Sophia's Chronicles
by QuietAspirations
Summary: Sophia was created by Amara but adopted by God as an archangel. She struggles between her loyalty to God and affection for Lucifer. Lots of Lucifer/OC. Transitions into TV show timeline. Who is this mysterious Khaos who has a fixation with her and what does He want? Rated M for horror/violence. Entangled in the mess is Zara, Sophia's vessel. Winchester POVs included.
1. The Escape

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 1: The Escape**

How did we end up here? In Hell, I mean. I looked over to Lucifer beside me. He was sitting calmly on the throne, palm rested against a cheek in a bored expression as our demonic soldiers brought forth reports and complaints. His gaze met mine briefly and his lips curved up on one side. His hand moved to hold mine. There was a dastardly Mark on his right arm near the crook of his elbow – the curse of the Darkness. But here we were – King and Queen of Hell. A sudden wave of absurdity overcame me. What happened, Sophia? I searched my mind, going as far back as my memory permitted.

I remembered nothingness. And then I remembered pain as far as the mind reached. But whose pain I felt was ambiguous. It was all a flurry of images in my long and ancient memory. I was running. Running as far as my legs would take me, away from _Her_. Let me explain. I'll start from the beginning.

In the beginning, there was God and his sister, Amara. God was The Light, the hand that creates, and Amara was The Darkness, the hand that destroys. Whereas God created matter and designed entire worlds for which his sentient creations would be in awe for millennia to come, Amara was the antithesis of Her brother. She too created, but Her creations were of anti-matter, which ultimately deteriorated and consumed the matter that God created in violent waves, like virulent termites. From what was revealed to me, this explosive feud was resolved with The Veil, a delicate wall that stopped the divine matter and antimatter from mixing and hence kept the peace between the two universes. This was how the balance was kept. At least until I came along.

From The Darkness, I was created. I don't remember being born, but I remember the raging winds and storms in my world. I didn't have a name, but I had shackles around my wrists. I don't think I had siblings. I say 'think' because honestly, I'm not sure. The whole memory seems fuzzy and suspiciously so, like there was something in my head I wasn't supposed to know. I didn't even know who to blame for that. So you can see, my identity has been a mystery even to me, right from the start.

What I do remember, though, are the shadows. Shadows that would whisper things to me, like pieces of conversations I couldn't remember. The clearest of those voices were Mother's, when She told me I would be the greatest thing that ever was. Innocent, right? Until you realise that She meant how I would stand alongside Her and watch things die. She gave me a preview once, showing me what true destruction meant. My hand was in Her firm grip as my power was channelled into annihilating every molecule, every atom of a whole world She'd created just for me to experiment with my powers. All the new life that had sprung up there, on its own, deprived of an opportunity to persist and grow. It seemed like such a waste to me – to create something just to have it destroyed later. Why, Mother was capable of making such complex things too. Why did She hate them so much?

I say that like I had any love for this world. Quite the opposite, actually. Hatred was sown into the very fabric of Amara's universe. Having experienced life on both sides of the Veil, I can honestly say that simply being there made you a different person. Most people gave into the dark lullabies of the winds in this universe but I chose shackles. It wasn't impossible to resist, as in my case, but it was evidently disadvantageous. I never liked who I was here; who I was supposed to be.

I remember finding the Veil for the first time. It was the brightest memory I had, quite literally. I saw true Light, not the dim imposter in the form of a perpetual setting Sun that we had. From there I could peek at God's world, which was full of bright, luminescent and magnificent objects and beings. To my little self, this was the most amazing thing out there and I desired it. It seemed so devoid of suffering and colourful, which was a stark contrast to the miserable and unsaturated world we lived in. There were all these curious beings who I wished could keep me company, for a lonely existence was all I'd ever known. I knew who God was, despite having never met Him before, and I held onto the hope that one day I would see Him. It just felt like something that could comfort me, despite all the bad stories Mother told me. In fact, I always found myself relating to Him more in those stories.

Thinking back now, it is almost laughable how naïve I was. Lucifer certainly thought so and never let me forget it, though his teasing was all in good fun. Little Me marched straight up to Mom and told Her exactly how I felt. _Oh yeah, I'll just tell Her I hate what She's done to the place and that I wanna run away, and it'll all be fine._ I rubbed my forehead in disappointment just thinking about it. "I don't belong here!" I argued, standing my ground. With a flick of the wrist, She flung me to the side and put me in such unimaginable agony that I could barely think. Before I knew it, I ended up in a cell, slave to her lash for centuries. Perhaps this should have served as foreshadowing for what was to come later – that I had particular trouble with authority. I don't know why I persisted thinking and saying the things I did. Any normal person would have given into all that pain, wanting to say anything just to make all the agony stop. But I didn't.

The details escape me now, but somehow, by some miracle, my shackles were unbound. I stirred awake just to find that my wrists were free and had deeply-cutting grazes from being tied up for so long. For a long time, I never understood how this happened, but what was that saying they had in the other universe? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth? I bolted without a second thought. I felt free, finally, and I was determined more than ever to make that jump across the Veil. I picked myself up, and I headed towards the Veil, with winds howling around me in the desolate wasteland that was Mother's kingdom.

Along the way, the winds grew stronger. I found it increasingly difficult to travel and before I knew it, the sand-covered ground beneath me shot electric spikes up into the air. Mother had found out about my escape. Or had She orchestrated it? Like some kind of sick joke? I tried to avoid the spikes as much as I could, but one strike after the other weakened me. Soon after followed the rain of hard stones that pounded against my body. The pelting rocks slowed me down, every hit jolting me and hurting. As if this weren't enough, Mother had sent Her hounds on me. Their bloodthirsty huffing resounded behind me as I made a break towards the glimmer of light in the distance.

Unfortunately for me, one of the hounds made a great leap onto me, and alas, I was trapped underneath the weight of the giant creature which did not hesitate to bare its hungry teeth. With whatever strength I could gather I punched and kicked and scrambled free of the Mutt's deadly jaws and continued my journey. At some point, the only thing that kept me going was the pure hatred I felt for Amara. It truly is a surprise that I didn't emerge from this story as a being powered purely by bitterness and anger. This was probably God's doing.

Not a moment later, another storm hit me. I was hurt. I couldn't move. The huffing of the hounds drew closer. I closed my eyes, awaiting the sweet release of death. And then, all I felt was warmth. A majestic light drew me into its comforting embrace and it felt like I was bathed in gold. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was in His arms.

"Wh-what happened?" I muttered weakly, every moment I could keep my eyes open a struggle against unconsciousness. My body still hurt all over and it must have messed with my mind because this was the moment I felt things change.

"It doesn't matter," He said. _God. It was Him. He… saved me. But why?_ "You're safe now, Sophia."

"S-Sophia?"

"Your name. It's who you are and who you will be," his deep voice reverberated in my head, washing me in a wave of peace. "Welcome to your new home."


	2. The Family

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 2: The Family**

"You won't be able to exist in this form for long," God warned me. "I'll have to find some way to stabilise you so that you don't end up destroying everything you touch."

"I'm- I'm sorry," I muttered, holding his hand as I stood by His side. It made me feel safe.

"It's not your fault, love," He reassured me. _Love? He loved me?_ "It'll just take a moment and you'll be good to go."

We arrived on a large meadow. Everything appeared so indistinguishably bright that it took a while for my eyes to adjust. There, four beings appeared before us. Seeing me, their eyes widened and they reached for weapons. Scared, I huddled close to my Uncle. He stopped them and told them to be at ease.

"Worry not, my sons," He began. "She won't hurt you." He stepped aside, revealing me to them though I'd much preferred the sanctuary of his proximity. "Her name is Sophia, and she's one of us. I expect you will all treat her as such." I studied their gazes. Four of them with four very distinct appearances and personalities. I saw the one with red eyes looking at me weirdly, which I am told is his surprised face. I mean, they were all certainly surprised by my presence but he… well, you know how Lucifer is. He's had that look plastered on his face ever since. I should have known that I was doomed in that moment. That those scarlet irises that burned into my very being by just looking would be the end of me. That I was powerless to resist. "Lucifer," God beckoned him to come forward.

God held both our hands in a kind of union. I say 'kind of' because it is only half true – I remain unaware, till this day, whether it was God's intention or not, but he had united us in a way indescribable by words. He gave us a bond immune to time and distance – whatever resulted from that bond was His to claim. In that moment, a part of Lucifer's essence was combined with mine, to make me a being of both Light and Darkness who could now exist in both worlds. I felt a surge of warmth emanating from my core and my senses had transformed. I saw things differently now. The beauty of this world… if it was obvious before, it was a hundredfold clearer now. I knew colour and texture like I'd never before. The meadow we were in was a warm green and the sky a tranquil blue. There was the occasional tree and puffy white clouds. _Nice._ Then my eyes came to rest upon Lucifer – he had deep amber curls, white wings and a smile that resonated deep within me. _Hmm… Very nice,_ I thought, but immediately suppressed it in embarrassment, though his eye contact was almost hypnotising.

God cleared His throat, as if having heard my thoughts. He turned to me and placed a hand on my head, with His thumb resting on my forehead. He blessed me with knowledge of the worlds He created and their various properties. As I looked up at Him, I saw possibilities, hope and a satisfaction with what He had given me. As I looked around, I noticed my wings and they appeared metallic, as did the wings of the other beings around me. Noticing my observation of the other beings, God said, "These are my first creations, Sophia – archangels. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel," delineating them. "Michael, show her around and get her acquainted with the place," God ordered.

"What will her purpose be, Father?" Michael inquired.

God looked at me in consideration. "You will be the Keeper of Knowledge." From that day onwards, the title stuck with me. Even when Heaven had decided that it didn't want me anymore, I was true to my duty. The duty given to me by God. No matter what happened to shake my faith in God, this purpose He'd given me in the beginning remained my anchor, keeping me grounded even when I didn't know who I was supposed to be. Whether the purpose was given to me based on my personality or whether my personality had been shaped by my purpose was an interesting question indeed. It was a question that I'd asked myself several times, at the cost of close personal relationships at some points. You'll see.

That day I'd met them – my family. They were like my brothers. There was Michael, the oldest, who always carried himself with an air of maturity. It was the years of being the one to look out for the rest of us that etched responsibility into his very being. At times, I wondered if this was too great a burden on him. After all, it's only the ones who take care of us who suffer just as much to see us fall. He had eyes of silver and wings of metal, which were as sharp as they were soft, much like the archangel himself. Michael was next-in-command to God Himself, overlooking the happenings in Heaven when Uncle was busy elsewhere. He was practically God's voice to the angels, always making plans and running things the way God would have wanted it, as the angels were constantly told. He was always respectful towards me and made me feel at home. He showed me around Heaven, always taking the time to explain things to me that I found novel or strange. I appreciated his patience.

There was Lucifer, second-oldest, who had his elder brother's power and standing but wasn't nearly as well-composed. I supposed that's what I liked about him. He was always straightforward and easy to understand. He was also… persistent. No one could ever say no to him. He always got what he wanted, being God's favourite and all (though we weren't supposed to say that out loud). That sly thing… he knew he was guilty but always laughed it off as if it were preposterous.

Lastly, there was Raphael and Gabriel, who had starkly different personalities. Whereas Raphael was always cynical of me, Gabriel was the complete opposite. He always believed in me. For some reason, of which I myself was unaware, Raphael always had it in for me. It was like he saw something in me that no one else did – something so vile that he never gave me a chance. I tried on so many occasions to find out what or why he was this way, but to no avail. Gabriel always reassured me, saying he'd come around, but that never happened. Raphael was Heaven's healer, being the one in-charge of the infirmary. One would think that dealing with injury makes one sympathetic to trauma but Raphael was always one to defy expectations.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was the youngest of us and the most hopeful. Mischievous little thing he was. With a penchant for being the most adorable toddler I'd ever seen, there was nothing he could do to upset me. We were always tight-knit – the closest of friends. The four archangels were my family. They were my home. Living my new life – my real life – here had erased the distress of my early life till it wasn't more than a faded memory at best. Yet, some of those scars persisted, lulling me from time to time and begging me to return to Mother. But I resisted. Never again.

* * *

 ** _Several billion years later,_**

It was a normal day in Paradise. And normal days were spectacular. Everything was always so perfect. The warm rays of sunshine made everything glow. The glimmer of the glass windows in Heaven's capital, Imperium, made everything brighter. The water in the fountain at the centre of Imperium felt icy to the touch, a crisp contrast to the soothing warmth all around me. That day, I felt particularly creative. Moreover, Imperium was basically a city full of office buildings where different angels worked all day with no rest. As if to match the workers' blandness of personality, the buildings themselves were plain. Don't get me wrong – the architecture was fine and beautiful, but this was only by God's design. The angels themselves were content with just residing and working in these buildings without expressing themselves. It was something that I found strange. Isn't all this beauty inspiring? And the best way to use that inspiration was to make something of it – to decorate this place further with expressions of creativity. The angels seemed to abhor the thought. _Change something that was already created perfect by God Himself?_ I sighed. To me, creativity itself was an act of worship. To love God so much that one could express that love in art and nature.

I sauntered over to a mural I had been working on in the town square. It had taken me a million years just to get an outline and a background done. I picked up a brush and continued working on it. With every stroke, my mind grew more and more focused into my work, ignoring the bustle of angels moving between their buildings, doing whatever. Their shadows shifted on the wall in a flurry as I remained in the same spot for hours. Before I knew it, the sun was setting and darkness fell over the land. This was supposed to be a time for rest, which angels took to mean 'work but with less moving around'. _God's blind workers._ The town square was empty, but I hadn't even noticed until a single shadow appeared on the wall. I had barely noticed it when I felt arms tightly wrapping around my waist. I almost let out a squeal.

"Lucifer!" I hurriedly pushed his arms away from me, though my body heat had just rose significantly. I already felt my cheeks burning a bright red. "What are you doing here?"

He shot me a wide grin, revealing his dimples. "How is my favourite person in the whole universe doing today?" he asked in a sing-song voice.

"I don't know, Lucifer," I replied, my breaths returning to their normal pace. "How _are_ you doing today?"

"Pfft…" he stuttered, clutching his chest in faux heartbreak. "I'm- I'm fine. And you?"

"I'm good," I smiled, setting my brush down. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, now that you ask…" He stepped closer to me. "My arms are feeling cold. Colder than usual, I mean." In a fell swoop, his arms encircled my shoulders, fastening me to his chest. I felt a spike of ecstasy shoot through my very being at his touch and my body melded against his in a natural harmony. "Could use your help in warming up."

"Lucifer…" I purred in his ear. The very scent of him was hypnotising. But a voice in the back of my head told me to resist. I lightly pushed against his chest. "Let go," I whispered. "Someone will see us."

"Let them see," he defiantly hissed, pushing me up against the wall. His soft lips grazed against my forehead, planting a gentle kiss. "I don't care."

Slave to his touch, I felt him kiss me again on the bridge of my nose and my cheek, setting fire to my skin where he left remnants of his love. Then his lips were so close to mine, aching to seal the gap between them. Yet, my fingers found their way to his neck, cupping his cheeks as I pushed him away. "Not here. Not now," I resisted. He paused and I wondered if I'd hurt him. With a reluctant inhale, his arms loosened around me and we stood apart as separate beings again. I looked around us, careful to make sure that no one was spying on us from the windows of the buildings. My gaze returned to Lucifer, ready to make some kind of apology, but his was fixated on the painting.

"You know, you might complete this mural faster if you used a bigger brush," he suddenly said, showing no indication of our short-lived intimacy. He picked up the brush from my table. "I mean, look at it," he held up the bristle to eye-level, puzzled by its size. "For a mural this size, you're painting it a millimetre at a time."

"It's important to get the details right," I argued. "With every brushstroke, you get a new variation of colour. It makes the result interesting."

"What are you painting anyway? I've been watching for millions of years and I'm still not getting any indication of what the picture is supposed to be," he inquired, scarlet eyes roving over the mural as he stood back to get a clearer look. "Granted, I haven't always been paying attention to the art, if you know what I mean…" There was that smile again.

I pulled back my shoulders, suddenly self-conscious. The way he looked at me sometimes made me feel tingly all over, which I had to admit I enjoyed despite my better instincts. My words were caught in my chest. Something about the quietness of the night always made the air between us electric. "It's the Heavenly Host, arranged in concentric circles around God." I pointed to the outermost circle. "The circles are arranged by rank. Here is the cherubim, here is the ophanim, the seraphim…" my finger came to rest on the innermost circle. "Here's us, the archangels."

"You're drawing all of them?!" he exclaimed. "But there's… so many of them."

"Which is why detail is important," I added. I silently enjoyed the sight of him scanning all the circles, his face taken by awe as he identified the ranks and angels. He looked so happy, so pure. There was nothing in me but love for him, which at this point was so ingrained my being that it was impossible to live without.

"A giant family portrait, with Father in the middle," he nodded, still captivated by the artwork. "Quite fitting."

"Yes, and as you can see, it needs plenty more work to be finished," I said, gesturing towards the wall. "So if you'll excuse me…"

I turned to pick up the brush and carry on with my work. "Right," Lucifer sounded dejected. "Which is why you forgot about our date. Again."

I spun to face him. "What?" I flustered. He did a head-tilt to gesture towards the moon. It was full and plump, its light marble white against the dark sky. We always snuck away on full moon nights, out of everyone's sight just to spend some time alone with each other. "Oh."

"Yeah," Lucifer gave me an expectant expression.

"I'm so sorry," I apologised. How could I have forgotten? This must have been the third time. Was I getting slow? "I've just been so caught up with work…"

"We've all been caught up with work," he lamented, shoulders drooping. "But _you_ are working at night. Aren't you the one who always says it's a time to put work aside?"

I sighed, chest heavy. "Okay, just give me a moment. I'll clean up and then we'll go," I promised. His face lit up at the suggestion.

He whistled when the coast was clear and beckoned me to approach with two fingers. I snuck out from my cover behind the outermost building in Imperium and into the thick foliage of the adjacent forest. The reason for all this stealth was simple – though work was shifted to a minimum at night, there were still angels patrolling various places in Heaven and the universe. Once united in the thick cover of trees, our hands found each other naturally and we sauntered deeper into the forest.

"Where are you taking me this time?" I asked, not afraid to huddle closer to him as we walked out of anyone's sights.

"Where I wanted to take you the last time, which incidentally is also where I wanted to take you the time before that," he jibed coolly.

"Hey, I apologised," I rushed to defend. "I feel bad about it."

"I know, I know," he relented. "But lately, I can't help but feel that you've been avoiding me."

"That's not true," I frowned. "Sure, I missed a couple dates but that's just because I… I forgot."

"Since when do you forget?" he probed, a little more accusation in his voice this time. "You're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know what to say to that…"

"Is something the matter?" he pressed. "Is there something I should know?"

"No," I denied. He led me down a path I'd never been down before, which always meant some spectacular sight awaited me. Somehow, Lucifer was always capable of finding new places in Heaven which constantly blew my mind. And typically, we'd enjoy the travel to those places as well, which didn't seem to be the case now.

"Sophie, come on," he urged. We reached the edge of a cliff and from here, we spread our wings and glided on the wind. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Of course," I said. "But there's nothing to talk about."

"You always say that," he lamented. We came upon a cave. It was one we'd seen before, but it was like a maze, with many tunnels leading into the darkness. Familiar with all these uncanny routes, Lucifer knew exactly which way to go, not stopping for a moment to think. With absolutely no starlight or moonlight, the path was only lit by the glow of our eyes – Lucifer's red and my green. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes…" I sighed. "Stop worrying," I told him for the umpteenth time.

"It's kind of my job to worry," he argued. "And my keen senses are tingling at the sight of you."

"Are those keen senses between your legs?" I teased.

He huffed. "Please, Sophia, I am not so consumed by lust that I can't think," he said, smirking.

"If these walls could talk, they would vehemently object," I shot back. "You know this to be true." That shut him up momentarily.

"Well, it's- it's your fault for being so- so damn unbelievably beautiful." A pathetic attempt at a defence. "Are you sure Father didn't make you?"

"Pretty sure," I replied. "All He did was give me your light, so really, it's your fault."

"Guilty," he chuckled. "We're almost there, come on." He lugged me by the hand, jogging excitedly to this place he was so keen on showing me. "Wait, close your eyes." We abruptly stopped just when light started to fill the tunnel. He put a palm over my eyes as his other hand guided me in the right direction. The sweet smell of damp grass reached me and soon, so did the corresponding sensation under my feet. "Ready?"

His palm shifted away and my eyelids flung open. I gasped. We stood on some kind of shore. The water before us was so still that it was almost impossible to tell that it was water. It was unmoving and in the night, it was a dark mirror that reflected the glow of the moon and stars. And the moon… we were someplace where the moon was closer to us, making it bigger than it normally appeared in Imperium. It was all so breath-taking – yet another example of the majestic nature of God's creation. When I saw things like this, I couldn't help but feel my devotion to Him deepen. It made me want to create things – to make myself a part of this world by producing beautiful things that emulated what He made. I felt an uneasy feeling stir in the pit of my chest at the thought.

As if snapping me out of my daze, Lucifer led me to a lone island in the middle of this body of water which had just enough land for one tree and some space to lie down next to it. "You're doing it again," he broke the silence.

"Doing what?" My eyebrows crinkled.

"Thinking things that upset you and not telling me," he accused rather monotonously, palms behind his head as he stared straight up. I remained seated with my knees pulled close to my chest and glanced down at him while he was making this philosophical observation. "You're making that face."

"What face? You know what, forget it," I gave up. "I'm tired of playing this game with you. You trying to read too much into what I feel and think and me trying to convince you that it's not true."

"Well I wouldn't keep bringing it up if you just- you just spoke your mind," he asserted, shrugging his shoulders. I exhaled, not knowing what to say. This was getting redundant. Sometimes I didn't know what he wanted from me. I shifted my attention to the radiant allure of the moon, which I wanted to spend hours just admiring. Like pinpricks, I felt his cold fingers tracing up my back through the opening of my dress, which left most of my back exposed save the laces that held it together. Again, I felt heat surge through my veins and my vexation dissipated. "Is it me? Am I upsetting you?"

"Lucifer, you could never upset me," I snapped rather impatiently, which probably contradicted my message.

"Then why do you push me away?" I jerked my head to look at him. He was serious. "First, you miss our dates. Next, you won't even let me…" he sighed, stroking his chin. "When was the last time we… you know…"

"That's not deliberate," I began. "You know why I stopped you just now. We can't have people finding out about us."

"Why not?" he challenged, sitting up. His palm rested against my waist, pulling me closer to his side. "I'm tired of hiding, Sophie. All this lying and manipulating and sneaking away."

"What other choice do we have?" I can't believe I had to spell it out for him again. "What we are doing… is not… accepted. God told me that I had to be-"

"Pure, I know," he recalled. "Whatever that means."

"It was the one thing He asked of me, and I couldn't…" I paused before I shamed myself into tears. "I have sinned. And now you're asking me to flaunt it like some kind of achievement?"

"Our love is not sin," he opposed. "I mean, we don't even know what He meant by that. As far as commandments go, that's as vague as it gets. Stay 'pure'? Come on, give me a break. That could refer to a number of things! Besides," his lips turned up on one side, as they always did when he had a playful thought. "We've been doing this for literally eons, with no one suspecting anything. I think that counts as an achievement."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course _you'd_ say that," I shook my head though I couldn't help but be amused. "What if it's some kind of test? And I've failed miserably."

"I'd say you've failed with flying colours," he teased, his hand now gently rubbing my back. "I'd write a glowing testimony of your uh- your abilities."

"Lucifer!"

"Kidding, obviously," he said. "Look, it's been ages since the Old Man told you that. If what we were doing upset Him, He'd say something. Or give us a sign. From my experience, long silences usually mean that He doesn't care, so you don't have anything to worry about." I didn't respond. What he said made a lot of sense, but it just didn't sit right with me. No matter what I did, I always felt like one wrong move would jeopardise it all – all the happiness I'd found in my new home. I needed things to be right. _I_ needed to be right. "Sophia…" he said expectantly again.

"Alright, I get it. I'm making the face," I relented. I told him what was on my mind.

"See, was that so hard?" he said. He paused, using the silence to ruminate on what I'd just said. "So that's why you've been overcompensating?"

"Pfft… you're… overcompensating…" I weakly shot back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've been putting in all those extra hours so that you can stop feeling guilty about us," he elaborated. "What, you think that you have to be extra productive in case your loyalty was called into question?"

"That's definitely _not_ what's going on-" I stopped myself to think about it. _Really_ think about it. "Okay, maybe a little."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, disappointed in myself. Even after all this time, it was difficult to feel like I belonged. "You've nothing to prove, my love," Lucifer reassured me, his lips following in tandem on my cheek. "You're the most beautiful archangel to ever exist. Well, second most beautiful." I cracked a smile, unable to stop myself. Then, my smile evolved into a chuckle that went on longer than I expected. "What, that's funny to you?"

I shook my head, refusing to admit my culpability. To be honest, I hadn't laughed like that in a while. It was just refreshing. "Sorry if I offended the princess," I mocked an apology, eliciting a displeased huff from him.

"That was a lacklustre apology," he teased, a devious grin lighting up his face. "I demand you fix this immediately."

"And how might I do that?" I turned towards him and found that our faces were suddenly in close proximity to each other. Not a word was said between us. Our eyes met and there was no humour in them anymore. I could feel my skin aching for his contact, emanating heat from my core. I felt the air between us grow warmer and warmer, until his cold lips found mine. His kisses incessantly assaulted my lips, hungrily pushing me backwards as I struggled to remain seated. Surrendering to his hold, I let him pull himself over me as we both lay on the ground. My arms encircled his shoulders as his found refuge in the curve of my waist.

"You have a lot to make up for," he said in between kisses. I moaned audibly as he deepened the reach of his lips, even invading my mouth with his tongue.

"Is it too late to beg for mercy?" I exhaled deeply, feeling myself melt in his embrace.

"Oh you'll beg alright," he taunted, now attacking my neck with sharp kisses and bites. I couldn't help but gasp and pull him closer to me. His hands traversed my back, pulling me deeper into his loving embrace. "But there will be no mercy."

* * *

We lay against each other, finished and satisfied. He held his torso against my back, cradling my waist. It gave us a splendid view of the moon. His head rested against mine and I closed my eyes, savouring our intimacy. In the darkness of the night, our bodies bathed in the moonlight.

"You know what I really want?" his voice sounded like a relieved sigh, if that was possible, like all was right in the world. "To proclaim my love for you to everyone."

"You can proclaim it to all the birds and the cats and the dogs," I teased.

His hand gently struck my rear and a short, uncontrollable moan escaped my lips. "I'm being serious," he said.

"As am I," I rebutted. "We've had this conversation before. You can't just do something because it sounds good right now. Later, when all of Heaven condemns our relationship, you may not think it so wise."

"Don't you want that to change?" he probed. "Imagine a future where we can be honest with my brothers."

"I want to," I admitted. I thought of Gabe and how happy he'd be for us. I knew he would.

"And Father would know. And the angels," he continued.

"Now you're pushing your luck," I said, turning over to lie on him. My head rested on his shoulder, our bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

"A life without secrets. I'm talking about _our_ future," he seemed genuinely excited to say it.

I lifted my head up to relish his joy. "And…" my fingers twirled around a spot on his chest. "What else do you see in our future?"

"I see…" he held up my fingers and observed them curiously. "A grand ceremony. They'll hold one for us, you know."

"Hold what?"

"A wedding," he uttered. It sounded too good to be true. But his words were like honey in my ears. I let him go on. "Everyone will be there and they'll cheer for us. We will be bound in sacred union and nothing will come between us. And then…" he bit his lower lip.

"And then what?" I pressed, keen on the answer.

"We'll make little archangels," he said, grinning gleefully. I glared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Creation is God's domain," I sighed. "Not ours."

"Then why does He have _you_ help Him with earth? Clearly He's accepting of your _abilities_ ," Lucifer reasoned.

"It's a big leap. How would it happen anyway?" I wondered. My palm aimed at a patch of ground as I tried to conjure up something.

"I imagine it would be the same as anything else you've created," he speculated, eyes fixed on me. I, on the other hand, was busy sprouting a seedling on the patch of ground next to us. "You plant a seed…" The seedling spawned from the ground as natural as anything else, blooming a small, pink flower. "… and it grows. Only the seed will be our love."

I rested my head back on his shoulder, returning to my favoured pillow as I watched the firmly planted seedling. "It all sounds nice… but will it ever happen?"

"One day, we must tell them all. I don't know when, but we will. They will accept us and we will live our lives true to our hearts," Lucifer vowed.

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	3. The Duty

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 3: The Duty**

I loved my job. I valued knowing and discovering new things. As the Keeper of Knowledge, it was my duty to catalogue the types of plant growth and sentient creatures in Heaven and Earth and build on the existing knowledge of their properties. Sure, God had made them Himself, but His role was only to set things in motion with an intelligent guess as to how things would turn out. Often, He was accurate but, He said, sometimes the universe can surprise you and it is important to take note of what has already been created to further understand how creation works. Creation was a science, He'd said, and asked me to help Him refine His work. Of course, I was deeply honoured. As far as I was aware, no one else had been given this opportunity. In the early days of my arrival here, He'd shown me how to manipulate the weather and set in motion certain cataclysmic events that would shape the evolution of terrestrial life. During this time, I'd learnt a lot about life and death, and how this cycle was important for this great terrestrial experiment. And truly, evolution brought about many great wonders that still awed me several billion years later.

I used to work in my own designated office in Imperium, on a high floor which all of us archangels shared. Sure, it made communication easier – especially between Lucifer and myself – but it made travelling difficult for my job. So on one of my once-in-a-million birthdays, God descended from above and gave me a gift. A house in the middle of nowhere. To an ordinary person, the solitude could be anxiety-inducing. But for me, nothing made me happier. Lucifer complained at first about the distance from Imperium, but soon shut up when he realised we could do anything we wanted out of sight of everyone else. The land was flat for acres on end, giving me a good view of the horizon. There was a gentle stream that marked the location of the nearest forest. The air had a constant, mild fog about it, which for some strange reason, made me feel safe. I remember that birthday. All of us archangels convened in my new house/office, and after the initial surprise had worn off, I'd eagerly gotten to making a meal for all my guests (eating was but a formality, not a necessity).

God had given us a great speech. I think I must have cried at some points. It was so rare to hear from Uncle so when he spoke such kind words at the time, I couldn't help myself. To be fair, God always knew the right things to say. Having my whole family around, laughing and talking, was the highlight of the eon. Back then, it was hard to truly understand what a gift this was, what with the way things turned out later. My heart still aches from time to time at the thought of it. But it wasn't so perfect a day either. At the end of His speech, He had an important announcement to make. He didn't say much. Only that, now that I was all grown up and fully an adult, it was important for me to "safeguard my purity". The cups I held almost slipped from my hand, but I faked a smile and assented.

The first thing that had come to mind was all that time spent with Lucifer. If I'd felt guilty before about being so close with him, this made it much worse. The only thing that was clear was that God was telling me to be a certain way for my own good. For the longest time, I was of two minds about it.

Millions of years later, I stood on the front porch, overlooking my garden as someone who'd disobeyed Him. Lucifer tried so many times so convince me that I had it wrong, and I began to believe him as our relationship deepened and ventured so far beyond any measure of purity. Yet a tinge of guilt always remained in the back of my mind. I hated feeling like I had to choose between two people I loved very much. So as long as God never confronted me about it, I avoided thinking about the matter completely, living with a strange cognitive dissonance that I thought would never rear its ugly head. How wrong I turned out to be.

Perhaps the moment when things truly began to change was that fine day on my front porch, when I was perfectly content with observing the sun's rays filter through the fog and cast fragments of rainbows over the land. It was that time of the eon for festivities – a truly joyous time for all of us, were it not for the amount of preparations involved. Not to mention all the interaction with the angels (there was a reason I enjoyed my solitude).

The sight of a damaged stalk caught my eye. I descended the steps, crouching to observe the damage. The plant's stalk was snapped at an odd angle. _Huh._ Must be those pesky rabbits running around. Despite the regular occurrence of such things, I didn't have the heart to exterminate the pests or put up any kind of barrier or trap for them. After all, this was just the way of nature and I wanted to leave it be. Moreover, who could look at those adorable rabbits and think of hurting them? I massaged the stalk between my palms, holding it in its normal upright position. As natural as it came to me, I breathed energy into the stalk, repairing the break.

"I see your garden is coming along nicely," a voice said. I stood up, dusting the soil off my palms as I turned to face my visitor. Squinting through the fog, which was gently cleared away by the east-ward breeze, Michael appeared. He must have just arrived, because I glanced over at him just in time to see him retract his silvery wings into his back, making them disappear. "You are truly gifted in creation, almost like Father."

"Please, Michael, you flatter me," I blushed. "No one compares to Him."

"You come the closest," he spoke with his cordial voice, his square jaw moving seamlessly with self-confidence. "It truly speaks for your feminine essence that you should be so talented at creating life. It's no wonder Father asked you to help Him with Earth. All the rest of us can do is manipulate what already exists."

Michael always did this – made me feel more special than I actually was. He always encouraged my abilities, even when others were uncertain or even afraid of what I was capable of. I beckoned him to come inside and he obliged, curiously scanning the interior of the house. "How long has it been since you've come to visit? I was beginning to think you forgot about me," I teased.

"I assure you, that isn't the case," he rushed to defend, clearly misunderstanding the seriousness of my accusation. "I would never-"

"I'm kidding, Mike," I clarified, pulling him into a hug. "Lighten up, would you?"

Colour rose to his cheeks as his arms hesitantly patted my back. "Alright," he relented. A smile finally graced his lips when I pulled away to make us some tea. "I bring news from the capital. It's about the upcoming Feast."

The Feast was a special occasion whereby a special class of angels, the _Gravidas_ , were celebrated by all of Heaven. They were special because they were endowed by God with the ability to bear offspring, which meant they could produce more angels with God's blessing. They weren't really endowed with many other capabilities, so this was their niche. The Feast was a time for them to receive God's blessing as well as the blessings from every single angel. A large meal would be prepared with the nutrients they needed, without which it was difficult for the little angels to form properly. It was a beautiful thing to see the little bundles of joy being brought to life from these angels, who after giving birth would go into hibernation. The task of looking after the little ones soon fell on the rest of us. I loved this period of birth and creation and on some level I longed for a similar experience.

"Father wishes for _you_ to present the Feast this time," Michael snapped me out of my thoughts. "He thinks that your expertise in plants and herbs would give it an interesting touch."

"If that is God's will, I shall enact it," I replied, unable to contain my excitement. _He entrusts me with such a great thing?_ "It would be my honour."

He nodded. Then he averted his gaze, using a hand to rub the back of his head before asking, "Would you also be persuaded to fulfil my will?"

His silver irises found mine. This was… unusual. "What is your will?" I dared ask.

He huffed a smile. "I only wish for you to be by my side when we arrive for the Feast." He came closer, taking my hands in his. "If that isn't… too much to ask."

"Of- of course," I stuttered. How could I say no to him? It was such a simple request. And it had been so long since I'd really talked to him about anything other than work, so this could be nice. "I accept your request."

"Thank you," he pulled me into a hug and gently kissed my forehead. I reciprocated with a kiss to the cheek, as was our custom. "I'll see you soon."

In the next few months, I supervised a committee of angels who would help me with the Feast preparation. The Grand Hall was busy with other angels who were involved in decorations, performances and timeline planning. Uncle never did these sorts of things Himself because He enjoyed seeing what we could come up with. The great irony, however, was that as soon as the festivals concluded, the angels went back to being the dull sticks they always were. Apart from the select few who were talented in craftsmanship and other artistic endeavours, the angels rarely did anything particularly interesting. It was just their culture to suppress their own creative capacities and believe that they had no such capacity, as though wishing the potential away would make it disappear and make their lives easier.

At some point, I wandered away from the kitchen and back rooms, sauntering into the Grand Hall. There, in a corner designated for the orchestra and choir, I noticed the strangest of things – conflict among angels! It wasn't that big of a conflict though; one angel was advocating ardently for the orchestra to play a different song of his composition and the other angels responded along the lines of "This is not our tradition", "What if God notices the change and is not pleased with it" and "We should just follow orders". _Finally, an angel who dares to be interesting,_ I thought. Noticing my arrival, the angels ceased their dispute and turned to me.

"Archangel Sophia," they curtsied. I expectantly reached out my hand and the angel at the centre of their attention hesitantly handed me the parchment of his composition.

"I like it," I stated, having imagined in my head what it would sound like. "Include it in the score."

"But m'lady," the angel who was convinced of God's displeasure interjected. "How can we change what has already been accepted?"

I avoided rolling my eyes for the sake of professionalism. "God does not take issue with such trivial matters. Or would you insist that the Creator of this magnificent universe does?" I challenged.

"No, ma'am," the angel shook her head, terrified of the possibility of blasphemy. It was truly amazing how the angels irked me even in their manner of accepting my reasoning. I'd expected at least a little more debate but alas, that was not the angelic way.

"I insist that this new song must be played, and that is final. Move along, now," I shooed them. "Except you," I beckoned the one who'd composed the piece. The angel looked at me in askance. "What is your name?"

"Castiel, ma'am," he nervously answered. He was so young then, and wide-eyed. I'd heard he had a reputation for being a little strange at times, but it wasn't anything significant – the angels liked to exaggerate their gossip.

"This is good work, Castiel," I praised him. He appeared too shy to smile. "Do you compose often?"

"Only when I'm not on my shift. But the other angels in the garrison say that I'm overstepping my boundaries," he confessed, dejected.

"Don't listen to them," I advised, encouraged by his potential. "It isn't sin to follow the natural inclinations given to you by God. Where do you serve?"

"I am in the Earthly patrol, ma'am. I do Thursday shifts."

I gave him a comforting smile. "I'll remember you, Castiel," I said. "As you were." With a short nod, the angel left. I knew then that he would become something greater. But how big he truly became was a surprise to us all. Surely, you know best about that.

The day of the Feast finally arrived. After much consideration, I donned a red gown that hung loose around my body and was secured by knotted laces on my lower back and mid-back as well as scaled shoulder plates of the finest metal. I wore ruby-studded jewellery – a necklace, a tiara, arm bands, bracelets and rings. These were made in Heaven's armoury, a large workshop in which my good friend Hassiel served as the angel in-charge. He was a skilled artisan in making weaponry and, as I had incidentally found out not too long ago, jewellery. He'd taken it upon himself to make me these gifts, for which I was very grateful.

I studied my own reflection in the mirror, checking to see that I'd adorned myself properly. My long, curly black hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, leaving only a few stray locks. It covered parts of my back that were left exposed by the dress. The dress itself was made by the finest tailor in all of Heaven, by Lucifer's recommendation. Lucifer always said that red looked good on me, complementing my tanned complexion which had rosy undertones at some places. Of course _he'd_ say that, considering he often left me red all over. I chuckled despite myself, feeling heat rise within me just at the thought of him as I fastened an earring to my ear. "You leave me breathless, Sophie," Michael's voice sounded behind me. I turned to see him standing at the doorway to my room. He wore a white silk tunic and matching pants, with gold chest armour and shoulder plates. His lips breathed a smile as he reached out a hand to me.

"You're a sight to behold yourself," I greeted, taking his hand.

As soon as we arrived at the Grand Hall, I excused myself to check on the Feast preparations. I did a quick check on the meals and gave out some last minute instructions to the angels who'd helped me. Satisfied by what I found, I left to look for Michael in the hallways that led into the hall. As I turned the corner, I bumped into a large figure. My eyes moved up from his chest to meet his crimson gaze, which were trained on me now that we'd found each other. Lucifer was dressed in black silk in similar attire to his brother, though he chose to forego the armour to suit his lean but muscular figure. "My path has been blessed by the sight of you. I can now rest easy," he said in his usual charming manner, holding a hand to his chest.

I lightly tapped his chest with a palm in a reluctant attempt to get him to stop saying such nice things. "You're dressed so ominously," I noticed in an attempt to distract myself from his suggestive expression.

"I think I look adorable," he gloated. "Besides, I'm doing everyone a service by wearing black."

"Oh?"

"Can't have me blinding everyone from my radiance, now can we?" he preened, puffing up his chest. "Especially when a certain, special angel is about to present the Feast."

"How magnanimous of you, Mr Morningstar," I remarked dryly. "What would Heaven do without your wise words?"

"Don't get snarky with me, kitty," he took a step towards me and I instinctively stepped back. I recognised those devious lips, pursed in such a way that one could easily mistake for anger when it really meant something deeper. It was that playful look in his eyes that gave away his true intentions, which was something I'd become an expert in reading.

"Or what?" I challenged, despite my better instincts about the time and place. He took another step and so did I.

"I'm not someone you should mess with," he warned, though it sounded more like an invitation. When I saw his sharp, square jaw tighten, I knew I was in deep trouble. And I _longed_ to surrender. My smile faded as our eyes met. I must have been staring into that round amber sea for too long because the only thing that broke our silent conversation was the sensation of him against me as his lips met mine. I was lost in the moment, the union of our bodies as natural as the wind and the stars. But soon I remembered that this sight wasn't so usual for everyone else and broke away reluctantly. I still felt tingly when his hands left my hips and he set me down. Just in that opportune moment that we'd separated from each other, a couple of angels exited the kitchen doors, busily making their way elsewhere. How close we'd come to getting caught!

I'd averted my gaze, folding my arms as if that would definitely dispel any suspicion that we'd been standing too close to each other. As soon as the angels were out of sight, I caught Lucifer staring at me. Had he been doing that the whole time? "Don't look at me like that," I ordered.

"It's just two angels. Who cares what they think?" he argued, his arms animated as he extended them outwards in a flustered gesture. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," I whispered pointedly. "Word spreads around quickly." Lucifer opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "I'm supposed to be by Michael's side later, by the way."

"You said yes? Dammit, that's another bet I lost to him," he cursed, shaking his fist. I frowned, puzzled. "Your loss, Sophie. You can always find me if he bores you to sleep."

"And here I thought you were going to say something nice about your brother for once," I shook my head in mock disappointment. "You know, about how he's finally approaching me again without fear of disappointing God."

"Yeah, poor Mike," Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Thinks he's sinning by looking at you for more than a second. I swear, he's even stopped looking at flowers because they remind him of you."

"Hey, don't be mean," I insisted. "He was just being as respectful as he knew how to be. Not everyone can be as nonchalant as you about the rules."

"You know, I'm glad he has a stick up his end. Left me with less competition to your heart," he shot me a toothy grin. "But I must have been a clear winner from the start, right?"

"Hm. Would you look at the time? I need to find Michael," I ignored his question and turned to leave.

"Wait, I have something for you," he stopped me. He reached into a pocket in his tunic and pulled out a platinum box, which he opened to reveal a black gel. "Your eyes-," he said, rubbing his finger into the gel, "-would look better with some-," now rubbing the gel onto my lower eye line, "-definition." He stepped back to observe the result. His features softened as he now regarded me. "Now you'll pierce my heart with a single look."

"What have you done to my eyes?" I asked, as he turned the small box around to show me a mirror on the inner surface of its lid. He'd accentuated my lower eye line, which brought out the light green of my eyes. "It's lovely. What is it?"

"A gift, from me to you," he winked. "Run along now." My heart fluttered in its seat like it had grown its own wings. Pocketing the gift, I pulled his head down by the back of his neck and gave him a deep kiss on the cheek before running off with a giggle like a little girl.


	4. The Threat

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 4: The Threat**

Passing through the threshold of the door connecting the kitchen hallway to the front of the hall where the feast would be served, I entered the pompously decorated Grand Hall. Colourful banners were hung on all the walls with Enochian words saying divine praises written on them. Music wafted through the air from the 1000-piece orchestra and choir. One's spirits could be lifted by merely being there, present in such an atmosphere. At the centre of the Grand Hall was a large fountain that had an intricate carving of a cherub standing on one foot as he tried to fly. The light misty spray rising up from the flowing water made it look like the cherub's wings were floating on clouds. There was an elevated platform before the fountain with a curved table where the Feast would be served to the _Gravidas_. The platform was flanked by the orchestra and choir. The back and sides of the Hall had levels upon levels of seats extending outwards for a good distance in order to seat all of Heaven.

I found Michael with Gabriel and Raphael at a hallway under the levels of seats. The archangels, myself and God were to enter together when all the angels had arrived. Gabriel was the first to receive me with open arms, pulling me into a tight hug. "It's been so long!" he bellowed a deep laugh.

"Look at how you've grown, Gabe," I cupped his face with both my palms as I studied his glass-like irises. "It wasn't too long ago when you were hiding behind my skirt after Lucifer caught you stealing his knives. Now you're so big and handsome like your brothers."

I blinked away a tear. "You'll always be my safe place, Sophie," he vowed, eyelids thinning as he smiled with all of his spirit. "Doesn't matter how big I am. I'll always run towards you and away from Lucifer," he smirked. "Guy has some pretty knives. Don't tell him I said that."

I chuckled, patting his shoulder lightly. Next, I met Raphael's bored, bronze gaze. "Raphael," I greeted.

He raised his eyebrow and averted his eyes. "Sophia," he sighed. _Alright…_

"How's work at the infirmary?" I feigned concern. "Going well without my assistance, I hope," I joked.

"It's been fine even before God brought you home," he remarked snidely, and then angled himself away from me.

 _Ever the conversationalist._ Don't say I never tried. Finally, I approached Michael and took his arm as he welcomed me with a warm smile. "Everything went well, I trust?" Michael concerned.

"Just peachy," I reassured him. "How _are_ you, Michael?"

"I'm… good," he said, only glancing at me momentarily. Why that hesitation?

"What's wrong?" I probed, tightening my grip on his bicep.

"Nothing, it's just…" he stroked his chin, similar to what Lucifer would do. "It's Lucifer. You don't think he's acting weirdly or anything, do you?"

I was taken aback by the question. My mind raced through all our recent interactions. Not that we were talking too much in those _interactions_ , but still, nothing particularly stood out. "No, why? Did he do something?" I responded, curious about what must have bothered Michael.

"It's probably nothing," Michael shook his head. "I shouldn't read too much into it."

"Mike…" I used my no-nonsense voice, which I've been told is effective. "Tell me."

"He-"

"Where's Lucifer?" Raphael's vexed voice cut Michael off. "He'd better get here before Father arrives. It's almost time!"

Gabriel looked at me. "Did you see him?"

"No," I replied almost immediately, regretting my quickness to deny.

"Well, it is time for me to call the angels, so it's on him if he's late," Gabriel said, and made appear his sigil (The Horn of Gabriel) in the Grand Hall to summon the angels.

"Don't get your chest-plates in a bunch," Lucifer entered suavely with a cool that was unseemly of the moment. I raised an eyebrow at him and he winked at me. I immediately turned back to Michael, trying to pretend that that didn't happen. "Takes time to look this good," he preened as he gestured to his face.

"Yes, I've heard that time heals all wounds," Gabe sneered. A chuckle made it past my lips and I rushed to cover my blasphemous smile when Lucifer's head jerked to face me. He was about to say something nasty to his little brother when a familiar, all-enveloping bubble of light and warmth approached us.

"Good, you're all here," God said as He joined us. "Let us enter," God beckoned as He took the lead in entering the hall. God and Lucifer walked together in front of Michael and myself, and Gabriel and Raphael followed behind us as we entered the music-filled hall. The angels got up to welcome us and sang alongside the choir, embracing us with their voices.

As the Feast began, I was to explain the significance of every meal that had been prepared. Then, God would come up and formally begin the event. He would greet every _Gravidas_ angel individually, feed them a spoonful of food, bless them and give each unborn angel a name as He proceeded down the table. Then, us archangels would follow behind Him, repeating His actions. After us, it would be the angels. This segment was followed by free interaction, which was a time to socialise and partake in the formal dance around the fountain. This was a time when angels got to know each other better, since most of them rarely met others from departments outside theirs.

For all the hassle of organising such events, it was a nice pay-off to see my friends happy and dancing and talking without a care in the world. It was of even more significance that this was the last time all the angels were in the same room, alive and not ready to kill each other. There _was_ a time when this was truly Paradise. An eternity could have gone by like this and we would all still be happy. It never got boring. This was home and home was perfect. On some days, I still long for a time like this. A time when I didn't have to worry about getting knifed in the back in the presence of people I recognised and knew for billions of years. A time when they still smiled at me. A time when Uncle still cared about us and spent time with us like this. I blamed no one but myself for having such ill luck.

It started off as a little shiver, an inkling of something being awoken inside of me. Something changed in the air and I think I was the first one to notice it, aside from God Himself. My head felt light as a foreign aura filled the air. Perhaps I felt so affected by it because it wasn't so foreign to me. A side of me that I thought I'd buried deep within my core reminded me that it was still there. All jubilance drained away from me as I remembered the trauma of a life lost to the sands of time. And then _She_ sauntered in, wearing a dark ensemble as She normally did. The Darkness. My Mother.

Funny how the memories felt like they were made just yesterday. For so long, I asked myself, "Why that day?" Why, after billions of years, had Amara decided to show up? I'll never know, though I suspect God had the answers. It'll forever be ingrained in me the way Her eyes pierced through me like a javelin from across the large hall. No one had even noticed her standing there. The rumble of their voices, innocently chatting through the night, would never remain the same. She simply raised her palm and the water from the fountain turned a ghastly shade of black. That certainly got everyone's attention. A pin-drop silence fell over the hall. My fingers trembled with the glass of wine in my hand.

"Amara," God called out, stepping out in the open. The angels cleared the path between them, not keen on getting caught in their crosshairs. "You're not supposed to be here."

"That makes two of us," Her dead eyes returned to me. I shuddered. An impending sense of doom overcame me and nothing else was obvious except for the strong urge to run away.

"What do you want?" God asked, trying to stay as collected as possible though even He could not avoid being cautious in approaching Her.

"You've had your fun, brother," She began. "Playing dress-up with my daughter, making her do your bidding. But I think it's high time we put an end to that. Things must be where they belong."

"Sophia is no thing. And she certainly isn't yours," God stood His ground.

"You gave her a new name? Cute, but it doesn't change anything," Amara challenged. She turned to me again and if I wasn't mistaken, I could have sworn Her eyes were pleading me. "Come home, love. We miss you. Come and take what is rightfully yours."

Voice trembling, I replied, "This is my home now." _Wait, did She say 'we'? Must be Her and the hounds._

Her eyebrows eased in a look of pity, but then creased deeply as She frowned at God. "Look at what you've done to her," She hissed. "She thinks she can be one of yours, just because you lit a fire in her core. But I'm telling the both of you now – Darkness and Light don't mix. One can never become the other, no matter how hard you try!" She raised a hand again and this time, She seemed to be harvesting energy from the atmosphere. As we watched in horror, Her signature black lightning shot down from the sky, rocking us where we stood. I felt Michael's protective arm ushering me away.

"Stop this!" God demanded, trying His best to counteract Her powers.

"I will once you hand her over," Amara vowed. A shiver coursed through me. I couldn't help but feel… frozen.

"I cannot do that. She is one of mine," God rebutted. It gave me some hope to see Him stand up for me, yet at the back of my mind I wondered if this was all too much trouble. Things could really escalate between the two of them and it could all be avoided if He just… let Her take me. As much as I dreaded that option, I couldn't help but feel guilty that all the angels had to see the suffering caused by my continued presence.

"Are you willing to war over something that you did not create?" Amara growled, Her voice racking my body from the flashbacks of things I thought I'd forgotten. Michael's arms tightened around me as I cowered further, wishing nothing more than to curl up in a corner out of everyone's sights.

"I will war to protect her right to free will," God snapped. It wasn't often that He appeared so ferocious and seeing Him like that struck fear in all of us. He seemed as though He'd seen enough of Amara to be so exhausted by Her that He couldn't help but react this way. My heart sank to see Him, the epitome of patience, be pushed to such a limit. I had the strong urge to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness that any of this was happening. I didn't want to see any more hostility or suffering.

Amara was practically seething at this point. "Then so be it. Be ready, brother. I will take what you love away from you, just like what you did to me," She ended. Just like that, She ascended in a dark, sinister cloud and disappeared. I looked around. I wasn't the only one shaken up by the whole ordeal. The once-lively atmosphere had mutated into something so grim that we were all uncertain as to how things should proceed from now. How could we move on from this? My reputation must have been so irredeemably tarnished by now. I wondered if anyone would dare even look my way again. Was it all gone? Everything I'd worked so hard for? I might as well begin saying my goodbyes…

God simply turned to all of us and said, "Do not let this incident frighten you. We must remain strong and united, especially now. We can't let Amara's threats get in the way of _our_ happiness. We especially cannot let her get in the way of this momentous occasion. You will all put this incident behind you and carry on with the celebrations. I order it to be so." In an instant, the orchestra's symphony resumed and slowly, but surely, the angels were talking again. It would be a stretch to say things went back to normal, but this was as normal as it got. An indelible stain was left on all our hearts that day.

I pulled away from Michael's arms and though he tried to comfort me, I excused myself to the garden outside, needing the time alone to reflect on all of it. The night was quiet and the solitude was reassuring. I pulled a red shawl around my arms as I walked through the garden to the lake, which, in the darkness of the night sky was only illuminated by the light reflected off of five moons of nearby planets. I stopped and stood, staring at the moons and thinking about how their unintentional beauty existed without accusations of having no value, and wondered whether I would achieve the same status. At the core of my misery at that moment was the uncomfortable truth that I felt undeserving of the praise and love I received from God and his creations because I was an awkward existence between the all-consuming antimatter and the elegant matter.

"You know, sulking is not going to help," Lucifer said as he approached. His eyes held concern for me. Concern which I could not find in myself.

"I'm not sulking," I shot back, folding my arms. "I have totally rational reasons to feel terrible and I do not appreciate you insinuating otherwise."

"Calm down, love. I wasn't saying that," he said as he wrapped his arm around me and held his torso against my back. He blew a small gust of wind and suddenly the air around us became much colder. "You need to _chill_ out."

I cracked a smile despite myself. Only Lucifer could make me smile in a moment when I wanted to break down and bawl so loudly that all of Heaven would be filled with thunderstorms. "Sorry. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel so… so conflicted," I confessed, leaning my head back onto him. "What if Amara's right? What if I'll never belong here?"

I heard him huff a few breaths in bewilderment. "That's ridiculous, Sophie. I'm surprised you would even think that. Even now?" he sounded exasperated.

"I can't help it…"

"Then let me set it straight for you. Amara is evil and you should never listen to Her," he commanded. "After all, you left Her. What She says shouldn't matter at all! You aren't across the Veil anymore. All of us love you just the same. You heard what Father said. If He's willing to fight for you, so will everyone else. And so will I!"

I broke away from his arms, just to turn around and hold his hands in mine. "That's what I'm afraid of. I can't help but worry if things will only get worse. I mean, if Amara's showing up after so long, it must mean something. I won't be able to forgive myself if someone got hurt because of it. Especially if it's you…" I caressed his cheek with a thumb. His face was deep-set with a grave expression. I knew he couldn't accept what I was saying but I had to make him understand. "If it comes down to choosing between me and everyone else…"

"Don't say that," his voice trembled. "It won't come to that. You need to have faith. Do you trust me?"

His eyes beckoned me for an answer. "Yes," I answered sincerely.

"Do you trust God?" He lifted my chin up with a thumb, palm rested against my neck. Forcing my eyes to meet his, there was no place for anything but the truth between us.

"Yes," I answered, more firmly this time.

"Then that is all you need. Father will find a way. He always does. And if He doesn't, I will never let anyone take you away from us," he swore. My eyes stung with tears and before they could escape, I buried my head in his neck, seeking refuge in his embrace. The tightness of his embrace made me feel secure, like a child finding a place to hide in a game of hide-and-seek. He held me without so much as a twitch, ready to comfort me for as long as I needed. I knew it in my heart then that he'd remain this way for an eternity if I asked him. And I would do the same for him.

When enough time had passed that I wasn't as jittery as before, I released him from his physical obligation albeit reluctantly. Then it was time for me to get something else off my mind. "So what's this that I'm hearing about you?" I brought up, eliciting a puzzled look. "Have you been doing anything strange as of late?"

"What are you talking about?" he wondered.

"Michael said you were acting strange. Is everything okay?" I studied his expression as he appeared to retreat into his mind. "Luci… talk to me."

"He said that?" his eyes narrowed, lost in thought. "No, it's just… we had a little… disagreement."

"About what?" I pressed.

"About Father," he rubbed his chin, as he always did when he was thinking of how to phrase a sentence. "Mike said that He was going on a long hiatus to perfect His creation on earth and I… I challenged the necessity of such a thing. I mean, Father's spending so much time there as it is. I never get to see Him anymore, and now He wants to spend an extended vacation there? Just… why?"

"This… troubles you a lot," I noticed, running my fingers through his amber curls.

"I don't know if it means anything but I just miss my Father and it's like He's never around anymore," he admitted, shrugging.

"Of course it means something," I reassured him. "Your feelings are valid. You love your father and you are right to worry about what it is He's doing. Perhaps you should bring it up with Him and let Him know how you feel."

"I'm trying. Actually, it's why I was late," he stated. He reached into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of parchment. I took a look at it. There were calculations and drawings written on it. "It's what He's been working on."

"Where did you get this?" I asked, growing alarmed. The handwriting was unfamiliar and the drawings appeared to depict different versions of bipedal locomotion, similar to what we had.

"I… borrowed it…" he stammered, running a hand through his hair. "From Father."

"You broke into His office?" I whispered sharply.

"I didn't _break_ into anywhere. I simply entered when no one was around. Big difference, Sophie," he defended himself.

"Were lockpicks involved?" I put my hands on my hips.

"Please, like Father's door could be breached by a couple of twisted metal sticks," Lucifer scoffed. "You should give me more credit than that."

"Lucifer!" I exclaimed. "This isn't something to be proud of."

"Speak for yourself," he smirked. Seeing that I wasn't amused, his smile faded.

"So what did you find?" I couldn't help but ask. My curiosity was getting the better of me.

"A bunch of glorified apes. That's what's gotten him so star-struck," he droned monotonously. "He thinks He can make them resemble us. Seriously?"

"I could have told you that," I said, evoking a surprised head-tilt from him. "This was His intention all along. He told me back in the early Paleozoic era."

"Wait, you knew? That He wanted these terrestrial microbes to be like us?" he probed.

"It seemed like such a distant goal back then. I wasn't even sure anything would come of it. But He's… He's God. He does as He wishes," I recalled. "So what? He wants to decorate a small planet with life, so be it. What He's doing there doesn't matter much, anyway."

"Then why is He neglecting us to work on _them_?" Lucifer persisted. "I don't have a good feeling about this. With all the time He's spending on _one little planet_ , and making plans to shape them like us… do you think He's replacing us with these creatures?"

"Honey, you're reading too much into this," I concerned. "There's no way a bunch of mortal, savage creatures will ever come to resemble us. Even if they do in appearance, they'll never come close to being what we are – powerful, sophisticated and civilised."

His lips curved and his dimples made an appearance. "I suppose you're right. That would be a ridiculous thought," he chuckled. "Just another reason I am blessed to have you here."

"Oh, stop that," I blushed.

"I would be so lost without your insight," he continued despite my protests. "You are the dawn that brings the morning. You are the summer after my winter…"

"Shut up," I laughed, pulling his face closer so that I could seal his lips with mine. His kisses felt like a tickle, lulling me closer to him as I craved more and more with every second. "I need to go," I remembered between kisses. We'd both been out here for too long. If one of us didn't show back at the Feast, it'd be suspicious. Still, we didn't let go of each other, both of us dreading the coldness of returning to the formal setting. I pulled away only to find myself returning to him once again. "Come over later," I invited, this time pulling away from good. He let go reluctantly, planting another kiss on my lips. As I turned to leave, he tugged on my arms again for one more.

"I will," he promised. I walked away feeling so hot and bothered, which was what Lucifer often did to me.

I was the first to return to the hall. Michael spotted me and dragged me to the fountain, around which we engaged in a dance with other pairs of angels. So far, so good. No suspicious gazes were thrown our way. "Where were you? You were gone for some time," Michael whispered as we stepped in rhythm.

"Sorry, I just went out to look at the moons. They were so beautiful and I lost track of time," I lied. "Is everything alright?"

Michael's eyes softened. "It's difficult to say. But I just talked to Father and… He might have an idea," he explained. "This whole friction with Amara doesn't have to be violent. Father thinks there is another solution."

"That's a relief," I smiled, feeling the tension dissipate from my chest. "What is it?"

"He says that maybe… Amara can be appeased. Perhaps with a peace offering," Michael began. It sounded good. I was beginning to feel confident that this whole event could be put behind us. But something about the way Michael's eyes darted about suggested something else. Were his lips… quivering?

"Out with it, then," I urged.

"He says we should get married," he blurted out. I almost froze where I was and I would have, were it not for Michael leading my movements in the dance. "You, being the first daughter from the sister universe and me, being the first son of this universe – He says the alliance could be just what we need."

"I… I don't understand," I stammered. I could feel my nerves trembling from under my skin. "What is this supposed to achieve?"

"He said something about keeping the peace between our worlds and that… if you were to cross the Veil again, this was insurance that you'd be back. That you'd be… unharmed," Michael elaborated. Our eyes strayed, never meeting each other though we were connected in the moment by music. So I would have to go back to that awful place to appease my Mother? Even if it was temporary and this marriage was supposed to ascertain my safety… something just didn't sit right with me. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in the pit of my abdomen. "If this is what it takes to stop Amara and live in peace… I cannot refuse my Father's request."

What could I say to that? He was being totally reasonable. "I need to think about it," I told him.

"Please do. Father also said that consent is really important. No one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to, alright?" Michael lifted my chin up with a finger. It must have been the forlorn look on my face. He looked almost… disappointed _. If only my heart was mine alone to give you, Michael…_

All I could think about on the way home was how Michael deserved nothing more than the best, and how I couldn't give that to him. Not while I belonged, heart and mind, to Lucifer. But this… this proposal meant the world. It was the only decision of significance I would probably ever make in my whole life. Now the burden of saving everyone in this universe fell on my shoulders.

A single lantern was lit on the front porch. It was the only light for miles, the only exception being the distant stars. The gold from my wings reflected in odd angles on the dark wood as I stepped foot on the front steps. Taking a deep inhale, my wings retreated into my back. As I entered, I noticed a familiar white glow at the far balcony. _A sight for sore eyes._ Lucifer had his back to the front door as he stared out at the horizon. Dawn was soon coming. He'd shed his tunic in favour of feeling the chilly breeze against his torso, a welcome change that painted me a portrait of his bare muscular back. Holding my breath, my feet made no sound as I approached. When I was close enough, I wrapped my hands around his waist, resting my face against his back. He tensed up at first, and then realising it was me, he eased up and pulled my arms tighter around him. I wanted to talk to him and spill my heart out. But the moment was too perfect by itself, without words.

"I talked to Father," he finally said, breaking the silence. He didn't sound too happy. I kissed his back before pulling away, giving him space to face me.

"What happened?" I inquired, partly anxious of the answer.

"Let's not… talk about this right now," he requested, shaking his head in disappointment. I was somewhat relieved. My shoulders felt heavy and I wasn't sure I could handle listening to his concerns and then further disappointing him with what Michael told me.

"The dawn is approaching," I pointed at the horizon with my eyes.

That seemed to help. His eyes lit up, even if the excitement didn't make it to his lips. He reached out a hand and I took it. "Then let's bring the morning."


	5. The Decision

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 5: The Decision**

I floated in a sea of ice, light as a feather. Emboldened by a sharp spear, ice and fire flowed through me at once. Every inch of me ached to release yet I was gripped without a moment of mercy. There were no boundaries in this game. In fact, the rule was to annihilate any sense of self. Thoughts and feelings shared the same highway, flowing freely from one court to the other. Power belonged to he who seized it. No competition could change his position, try as I might. Perhaps there was a point where a victory was conceded to me, but now the lines were blurred. The poor flower stood no chance when the serpent wanted its nectar. His hunger was too great, even for a feast that went on for infinity. I was conquered by a light so brilliant that I could do naught but let it sear my eyes. The pain did not hurt. The heat did not scald. The snow and the fire came together, hand in hand, melting and soothing each other – two opposites that could never repel. The great rain that followed after washed away all my woes, leaving me forever enslaved.

Now my vision was clearer than ever. Venus had risen, now high above us in the sky. Lucifer left marks that glowed a bright starlight in the shape of his lips on my face, on my neck, on my shoulders and on his reign went. With an intensity that could give me a frostbite, he left no inch of me spared. I winced with every attack, my fingertips shooting small specks of fire at times when I couldn't help it anymore. My body shivered from the very suggestion of his touch, a feature he exploited with those deviously-timed pauses.

When he finally showed leniency, we both cuddled in a thick grass bed of my making, where I could warm up lest appear as a blizzard of his making. My hand caressed his chest, feeling the grooves of his muscles. He stroked my back gently, a stark contrast to the assertive fierceness he'd been capable of mere moments earlier.

"Are you ready to tell me what was on your mind earlier?" I chanced a question.

"I.." he closed his eyes for a moment in thought, gulping as he searched for the words. "I went up to Him and asked Him why… why He wouldn't respond to my prayers anymore. Why He wouldn't come see us anymore. And He just said that He was busy working on other things, perfecting the equation of Life. And I said, 'But we miss you, Father. Heaven needs your guidance.'"

"And what did He say to that?" I probed, sitting up as he did the same. I leaned back onto my palms which were grounded on the grass.

"He said Heaven is doing fine under us. Basically He just wants us to keep running things without Him, which is what we've already been doing for ages. I tried to tell Him that that wasn't the point. That having Him here meant more than just… administration. I simply said that it would be nice to see Him once in a while, even if He wanted to do all this experimentation. I said, 'The apes will still be there when you get back.'"

"Hm."

"And He replied that He was working on something important and that it absolutely _needed_ His attention. At this point, I was tired of hearing the same old same old," he sighed, rubbing an eye lazily. "Whatever. The Old Man wants to spend all day in the Garden and no one can show Him that its ridiculous. He'll realise it on His own soon enough."

"Don't say that," I derided. "Your father has some kind of plan. Let Him see it through. Maybe then He'll come back."

"He's been doing this for… how long? I don't see an end in sight. One day, we might even forget that He exists," Lucifer shrugged. I glared at him, clearly not standing for that kind of speech. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just speaking my mind."

"You always do," I pointed out. "It's what I like about you," I admitted, revealing a guilty smile. That certainly lifted his mood. Then I remembered what I had to say. I took a deep breath, mustering the courage to bring it up. "I-" A squawking interrupted me. I turned to see a white dove perched on a branch. There was a message tied to its foot. Exchanging a puzzled look with Lucifer, I approached the bird, still bare from head to toe and claimed the message.

"What is it?" he asked, still seated.

My eyes scanned the words over a few times. "It's God," I answered. "He wants to see me."

"What about?" Lucifer questioned innocently. Just had to be a moment like this, didn't it?

"I think I have a clue," I simply said. Quickly wrapping my robes around me, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

Springtime heralded fresh life in the Garden of Eden when I arrived. The whole quality of this place was breath-taking. The sunlight was radiant, providing all life the great elixir of God's energy. All kinds of colours could be seen in the flowers, fruits and even little creatures that resided here. I saw then how determined God was in shaping a terrestrial species like us. I helped Him from time to time here, but I hadn't seen the completed product. He'd made some kind of home for them that closely resembled Heaven. Perhaps I had misjudged His plans after all. While I sauntered through this paradise, I whistled softly, summoning a little bird to my finger. I chuckled despite myself. It was as beautiful as the ones in Heaven, though probably not as celestial. It had a black-feathered back but a brilliant blue body and chirped a tune to impress me. Soon I was engaged in a conversation with my little friend using nothing but whistles.

The bird finally revealed that it thought it was seducing me by singing and I laughed out loud. And that's how I learnt that certain animals sang to each other to attract mates. "Better luck next time," I whistled in his language before he flew away. As I watched him fly in a circle around me, I too spun to watch him go. A pair of eyes caught my attention and I abruptly stopped. "Uncle," I blushed. He was leaning against a tree, eyes fixed on me in what I presumed to be an amused expression. "I didn't see you there," I flashed Him a coy smile. "I heard you called for me."

"I did," He beckoned me to approach. "I hope the events of last night didn't unsettle you too much."

"I would be lying if I said it didn't, Uncle," I weakly muttered.

He sighed, His face ridden with a heaviness. "I had not expected my sister to show up like this."

"It wasn't your fault," I said, though it didn't seem to ease His gloominess. My chest ached to see Him like this. "Mother does as She pleases."

He nodded, briefly pausing to let the solemnness pass. "Walk with me, child." He took me through the Garden, showing me what He'd done with the place.

The Garden was almost complete. It had practically every kind of edible fruit and vegetable as well as a variety of animal life. All that was missing was intelligence – several Earthly species were now so close to achieving first intelligence, and natural selection would ensure that one would eventually emerge as the winner. Several angels were placing their bets on the Neanderthals, but I didn't think their methods of communication were as sophisticated as those of the Homo Sapiens. Whoever comes out on top will eventually migrate to the Garden of Eden, as was what God had planned. It was definitely an interesting experiment, to try to replicate what God had achieved in Heaven on earth, but was it really so important that He had to neglect His own children? Thoughts of what Lucifer had said and how it had upset him made me feel uneasy.

"Sophia," God snapped me out of my thoughts. "I trust that Michael has told you about what I have planned."

"Yes, he has, Uncle," I affirmed, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground in case I gave too much away with a look.

"And have you thought about it?" He walked with His hands clasped behind His back, confident as the Creator of the universe.

"I… I would like some more time to think about it, if that is alright with you," I muttered.

He stopped in His path and so did I. Did I say something wrong? We now faced each other and He cupped my face with His palms, lifting it up so that I would be looking at Him. My fingers fidgeted with each other. I must have been visibly nervous. "If that is what you would like," He assented. "It is crucial that you participate willingly."

"I understand. I want to do the right thing, Uncle," I said sincerely.

"I know you do," He reassured me, thumb stroking my cheek. His eyes softened as He regarded me. "I want you to be happy, Sophia. I want the best for you. I know this arrangement may not seem like it, but I believe that you and Michael can keep each other happy and in doing so, safeguard the sanctity of both universes. War is… not always a good option. We must look for peace where we can find it." As if my shoulders weren't heavy enough already. We continued our stroll, my arm hooked around his elbow. Butterflies greeted us and reptiles emerged from cover to gaze at us. It was quite the welcome. "I also summoned you here for a little surprise," He broke the silence. I loosened my posture a little, not wanting to look uncomfortable. "Do you recognise that tree over there?"

He pointed to a lone tree standing on a hill with a gradual gradient. It was large, fertile with leaves and fruits and a sturdy bark. I recognised her as I would my own face. "It's my Tree of Knowledge," I identified proudly. "Look at how she's grown."

"She's beautiful," He complimented. My heart fluttered at His words. "And I think she is the most important thing in this Garden. And I'm not just saying that."

"How do you mean, Uncle?" I dared ask.

"I was studying this tree that you created for me, some time ago, and I was intrigued by its properties," He began, gesturing at the tree with a hand. "You see, it bears your mark in a manner I've never seen in anything else you've created. Your essence flows through it like the life-giving blood in many a creature on earth. That puts it in a unique category of life-form. I've thought about the implications of having such an organism here and whether it would serve the purpose of the Garden and for a while, I really wrestled with the question. Then, it occurred to me that its purpose was perhaps most vital of everything here." My head tilted. I didn't understand anything. He led me by the hand to the tree, showing me the plump, red apple that had been borne on a branch.

"Now I too wonder what purpose it could possibly serve," I thought out loud, perhaps with a tinge of disappointment. I wasn't sure that what He said reflected well on what I'd created.

"When the intelligent species arises, they will move into this Garden and be granted eternal life. They will live among us as we learn more about them," He went on. "This tree… it is a test of faith for them."

"A test of faith?" I gulped. "Are you not pleased with my contribution?"

"Of course I am," He said. "Think about what this means for this fledgling species. They've only recently acquired intelligence and just begun to grasp the world of ideas. And the most important of them is… faith. If they can avoid eating the fruit of this tree and gaining the knowledge of good and evil – as I will bid them – we'll know they truly deserve a place among us, which as I hear from Lucifer, is a big concern."

It was heart-warming to know that He considered what Lucifer had to say, but something didn't connect for me. "But Uncle," I interjected at the risk of sounding rude. "I thought you wanted them to be like us? How can they do that without knowledge of good and evil?"

God gave me a patient smile. He had always been so tolerant of my questions, and I asked a lot of those. "Ask yourself, my beautiful niece, what it means to be like us. I think you will find that there is a lot about us that are worth replicating in this terrestrial species. But Knowledge is not tantamount to Wisdom, like it is within you. Perhaps the only wisdom this species may be permitted is one to reject the responsibility that comes with knowledge."

"The responsibility that comes with knowledge…" I repeated under my breath, considering each word carefully.

"The burden of choosing what is right, even when there is a wrong one," He elaborated. "It may be easy for us, but perhaps not so for this species that has only begun to develop true thought."

"Knowledge is a power that must be handled carefully, not a toy to be handed to a toddler. So you would rather they remain blissfully ignorant," I paraphrased, thinking through each word.

"Exactly. I knew you would understand," He gently squeezed my shoulder. "They will come here, feed on anything they want and make merry. They will be like our children."

I was dumbfounded. I hadn't even thought about it that way. Being the Keeper of Knowledge, finding out things that were typically kept secret from those who didn't need to know them was second nature to me. Protecting information and secrets was what I did and I should have expected that other people – or other species, rather – wouldn't necessarily see it that way. Yet I was troubled by the thought of the Knowledge of Good and Evil itself becoming a taboo to this species. What I'd said to Lucifer earlier came back to me. _What He's doing there doesn't matter anyway._

"Oh, before you leave," He snapped me out of my thoughts. "I have a job for you. My writing sessions with Metatron have concluded. The information we've penned down is far too important for anyone's eyes. Can I trust you to hide these tablets in obscure locations on Earth?"

"Of course. It is my duty, after all," I swore. "I won't let you down."

"Good," He beamed. "I will have the Secretary deliver the tablets to you at once."

I returned to my house, comforted by the familiarity of its sight. At the entrance I saw an angel peering into the doorway with several bundles in his hands. "You must be Metatron," I said, and the angel turned around.

"Yes, that would be me," he greeted. "I bring the Word of God, which I must say, is _really_ important information."

"I am aware," I sighed, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. _This is my job, you idiot._

"It absolutely _cannot_ be privy to anyone outside the three of us," he warned.

"Do you question my abilities as Heaven's Keeper?" I snapped at him. For an angel, he had a mouth on him.

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it," he remarked in a questionable tone. Before I could press him on his manners, he continued, "May I be of assistance to you on your journey?"

"That will not be necessary," I refused as politely as I could. "May I ask, what is on the tablet?"

"Unfortunately, it is not within my jurisdiction to reveal that to you, m'lady," he scoffed with a self-confidence whose origin I couldn't quite place.

"I am the Archangel of Wisdom, the Keeper of Knowledge. Surely you are allowed to tell me," I asserted, growing impatient.

"Not to sound rude, ma'am, but I only take orders from the big man Himself, and He may choose to keep as many secrets as He wills. You don't actually think He would want to reveal to anyone all the mysteries of the universe?" the angel derided. "Especially someone like yourself?"

"What do you mean 'someone like myself'? Mind your tongue, minion, or I will see to it that you regret being so bold," I threatened.

"I am the scribe of God, so I severely doubt that. I know how He thinks and the burdens that plague Him. You should feel ashamed of bringing the wrath of His sister upon angelkind during the Feast. One joyous occasion we have in several years, and this is the first time we have been so troubled like this! You should say yes to Michael and take your rightful responsibility of restoring peace to the House of God," the imp dared say. I held my tongue. _Is this really what the angels thought?_ "I came here to drop these off, and I have gotten something off of my chest. I hope you do consider what I have said."

I blankly stared at the pile of tablets for a moment, not moving from my spot. Was this really all the credit I got for the things I'd done for Heaven, my home? Admittedly, I was heartbroken. For so long, I'd thought it only mattered what the archangels and God thought of me, for they were my immediate family. I'd never given much thought to the angels' opinion of me, not that I ever thought they had those. But if they really saw me as a danger to their home, it wasn't right for me to take away this safety from them. In a way, they were my home too and I couldn't carry on not caring about them anymore. Carrying the tablets in my arms, I flew to earth to complete my mission.

Earth didn't suffer from a lack of crevices, pits, craters, what have you. The trick, however, was to estimate the movement of tectonic plates over millions of years and find a spot which remains relatively unchanged. I needed to use angel warding sigils and spells to protect the tablets so I had to find places that would be resistant to damage.

The whole mission took several days. I had briefly scanned the entire Earth for inconspicuous and stable locations previously, but getting into those places was a whole different journey. For one, I had to avoid the patrolling angels and fly in secrecy so that no angel would even be aware that I was on a mission to Earth. Admittedly, this was the fun part. I always had a knack for being stealthy. Gabriel may have taught me a few tricks but I can confidently say that even he wasn't able to catch me a few times when we trained in the forest. Once I had entered my selected location, which was more often than not deep in the Earth's lithosphere, I had to set up the angel warding in a very specific geometrical orientation such that it protected the tablet.

Then I ascended to the highest point of Earth and performed a spell to bind the locations of these objects to each other, forming a giant Earth wide pattern so that their movements could be tracked. This way, I would know if the pattern binding them was broken, indicating that the tablets were in danger. When I completed this, I heaved a sigh of relief and remained where I was, staring at the majestic mountain peaks surrounding me. _Now for the difficult task of making a decision,_ I thought. _I couldn't remain here forever._

I flew back to my residence in Heaven and went straight for the balcony, where I'd placed some chairs and a table for when I would enter periods of contemplation while staring into the far-reaching plains and the horizon. What I didn't expect, in all my brooding, was to find Lucifer already waiting for me there. I froze at the doorway to the balcony, unsure of what to say. He was silent, and clearly aware of my presence, so I just took a seat next to him anyways. We both silently stared at the setting sun for a while, until he decided to break the silence. "I thought I'd go back to my office to clear my head from all this 'monkey business'," he began. It made me nervous to think where he was going with this. "And then I hear Michael, of all people, talking of marriage. Sophie, why is my brother talking of marriage?"

"I meant to tell you earlier. I'm… sorry," I apologised. "God thinks that this will appease my Mother and keep the peace between our two worlds."

"So?" Lucifer challenged, evidently upset. His fist was clenched as it rested on the coffee table between us. "You would sell your heart just to appease someone else?"

"I don't know!" I snapped at him. He jerked his head towards me, surprised by my outburst. I was surprised too. I hadn't expected to feel so deeply about it. "I can't make up my mind," I whimpered. "Can't you see… that I don't know what to do?"

I supposed that soothed him somewhat. A moment of silence passed between us before he said, "Why exactly is this even an option?"

"As opposed to plain violence and suffering, this is more feasible," I tried to explain. "God thinks it would be a good idea to work out a truce rather than go to war."

"Sounds a lot like the other 'good ideas' He's had recently," he grumbled. "We shouldn't be giving in to Amara. Not after what She's done to you. Especially not after She's openly threatened war."

"God says that war isn't always a good option and that we must find peace where we can," I argued, simply trying to put things in perspective.

"As someone who's been to war, I can say that you don't negotiate with openly hostile people. It just doesn't work," Lucifer rebutted. "Frankly, it surprises me that Father hasn't thought of that."

"You don't know that He hasn't."

"Then why doesn't He act like it?!" he criticised passionately. I would be lying if I said his demeanour didn't unnerve me a little. He wasn't the type to get so frustrated. His typical wit and charm seemed to escape him in that moment, though I could not hold it against him. This really bothered him, evidently.

Perhaps I could restore his faith in some measurable way. "When I went to see Him today, you know what He told me? He considered your concerns about the apes. He even said…" I hesitated, not knowing whether or not to share His plan seeing as my own feelings on the matter were ambiguous. But it was too late, since Lucifer was already looking at me expectantly. "He said that there would be a test of their faith. To prove that they are worthy of attention. They simply have to avoid the Tree of Knowledge."

"Isn't that the tree that _you_ made?" he accurately pointed out. _Dammit._

"It is, but that's not the point," I diverted.

"How does it make you feel?" his hand reached for mine, presumably out of concern.

"I don't know," I tried shutting him off before I said something I didn't mean.

"How can you not know?" he pressed, not letting it go. "What, do I have to open up your heart for you and peer inside? It's a simple question."

"Nothing about these times is simple," I shot back. "Now will you just listen to me?" He quietened down, leaving me the silence. "Clearly, He has heard your concerns about the importance of this terrestrial species and wants to prove their worth to you. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Not really," he stood his ground. "I tell Him that He should spend more time with _us_ , not _them._ And what's He gone and done? He wants to justify the unnecessary time He spends with them by trying to prove me wrong somehow. Am I supposed to be okay with that?"

"But He's trying," I insisted. "Will you just give Him the benefit of the doubt? He is your father."

"Whatever," he dismissed. "But I hope you see it too. How He's losing it. This marriage nonsense between you and Michael… it must be a symptom of some kind of divine insanity."

"Lucifer!" I admonished. "That's enough of that! You cannot keep speaking about Him like that."

"If He has a problem with it, maybe He should come and tell me to shut up," he dictated. Then, releasing a deep exhale, he relaxed a little. "I don't mean to be so… derisive. I just don't feel like He cares. I used to know it in my heart that He does but now… it's not so obvious anymore."

He squeezed my hand, rubbing the back of my palm with a thumb. "You cannot be so faithless. Not after the responsibilities He has entrusted in you and the rest of us. Maybe the reason He doesn't feel the need to check up on us so often is that He believes in our capabilities," I reasoned. "It would be wise to reciprocate that faith."

"I want to…" he mumbled. "But you cannot accept this proposal."

"How can I not?" I snivelled. "I'm not saying it's something I absolutely want, but it's clear that everyone else wants me to. The only one who would be totally fine with me saying no is you!"

"Isn't that enough for you?" his eyes begged me to listen. "What about us? Our vows? You swore to me, Sophia-"

"I know what I did," I cut him off. I pulled my hand away, standing up and folding my arms as I paced around the balcony. "This isn't just about us anymore. All of Heaven is my family and I have to think about them too. I cannot live with myself if I've disappointed everyone else for the selfish pleasure of our love." His crimson gaze accused me of hurt, so I turned away to avoid being burnt by it. "The answer is clear to me now. I must tell God." I took off quickly without giving Lucifer a chance to reply. He came after me and tried to stop me but I couldn't let him. I was scared that if I let him speak, he would convince me to be true to my feelings for him and I couldn't let that get in the way of what the universe deserved.

The Creator was at His desk when I arrived at the open doors to His office. "I'll do it," I declared, attempting to bury my heart with every word. "You have my consent."

God set His quill down, studying me. "I object, Father!" Lucifer exclaimed as he entered. _Way to be subtle, fruitcake._ "I have a problem with this decision."

God's gaze simply flickered between the both of us. "You've been having a lot of those as of late, son," He quipped as He beckoned us to enter. "Tell me, young man, what is your objection?"

Clearly, Lucifer was expecting a little more resistance. He was almost unsure of how to respond, but as usual, he was crafty at spewing nonsense when the time called for it. "We cannot give in to someone who only understands force. Why should we scapegoat both Michael and Sophia for a truce that will never work?" he boldly asserted.

"You wish for me to fight my own sister?" God questioned. This was the point where a normal person would shut up and listen to Him. Obviously, Lucifer was far from normal.

Lucifer threw his hands up in exasperation. "When has She ever acted like a sister to you? You've always forgiven Her and let Her go, as though this cycle would ever end. But has it ever? I doubt that even a universal truce would satisfy Her."

I tried to hush him to no avail. Lucifer said what he wanted to say. I hesitantly turned to God, afraid of what I might find. Yet, God seemed to be lost in thought. Was He actually buying it? "Leave, both of you," He ordered. "I need to think."


	6. The Title Fight

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 6: The Title Fight**

God's office stood at the centre of the citadel of Heaven's capital, Imperium. It was a marble building with Nth metal fortifications that towered high above the others. The structure expanded far and wide to house the angels whose services were in Heaven and worked closely with God on administrative and executive matters. It was typically filled with angels bustling about, doing their duties. God had a flare for extravagance and pomp, so the hallways were lined with golden banners weaved from actual gold. The building contained several important sections such as a prison, an armoury containing Heaven's most valuable weapons, a forgery, training yards and more. God worked at the highest floor where He had a good view of Heaven and could easily communicate with anyone via a communications system. The five of us archangels had our own offices in this building too.

The building's natural vibrancy somehow felt faded that fateful day, when the archangels and I were sitting at a round table in the conference room in front of God. Lucifer hadn't spoken a word to me ever since Uncle told us to leave His office. He was busy giving me a literal cold shoulder, keeping a large bubble of the coldest air he could create to discourage me from nearing. Evidently, I'd upset him with the way I acted. I didn't blame him. I had expected some hostility when I chose to accept the proposal. Except then, I was preparing myself to deal with the consequences as Michael's bride-to-be. Now… I was in somewhat of a grey area between keeping my lover and having betrayed him. _One thing at a time,_ I told myself.

"I have chosen to change my decision," God announced, hands clasped on the table. "Some _concerns_ have been raised. I have decided that perhaps war is not completely off the table."

The other archangels were clearly surprised by this decision. "Why so sudden, Father? I thought we had plans for peace?" Raphael asked.

"That we did," God nodded, maintaining a sturdy frown. "Unfortunately, I have to come to realise that this may not be the best option. I don't want to jeopardise any of your lives for the sake of something so uncertain. Instead, we will fight to secure our future. But if we're going to do this, we must be careful about it. The five of you will train and follow my plan. This is my decision and it is final."

"So we'll kill her?" Michael inquired.

"No," God rushed to answer. "No one is killing anyone. We'll trap Her." God pulled out a blueprint of sorts. We leaned in to take a look at it. Essentially, His plan was to weaken Mother and lock Her away in some kind of prison. This prison was another realm of its own, locked away from other realms through very powerful magic – the kind only God could use. Studying it, I realised that the lock to this prison would be no ordinary one – it needed to be bound to a living being who could withstand the pressure placed on it by Amara. "This prison requires someone to bear the responsibility of holding the key to it. Someone strong-willed, who is willing to do what it takes to safeguard what is good." His eyes scanned the room and finally fixated on Lucifer. "Do you think you can handle it, Lucifer?"

"Of course, Father. If that is your wish," Lucifer smiled, his face beaming with pride at being appointed such an important role.

"Good," He smiled. "Right now I will need all of you to preserve and gather your strength. Train together. Amara may strike anytime. We must be ready. If there aren't anymore pertinent questions, you are all dismissed."

I waited for Michael to leave before entering Lucifer's office. It was a spacious room, considering he liked to practice katas on his own sometimes with a long bow staff or one of his many swords. A filled bookshelf lined one wall and one of the rows even contained a dagger collection that he liked looking at but not using. They were as valuable to him as a painting or gemstones would be to any other person. His table was large, giving him ample space to rest his feet on the surface when he would lean back in his chair to contemplate on something. There were paperweights and statues made for him by adoring angels, all symbols of how much they loved him. On one wall hung a starguide, which was some kind of system to identify stars and thus delineate their properties like their orbit, luminescence and so on. Lucifer liked that sort of thing and tried to teach me sometimes. It was definitely one of my fondest memories.

As soon as he saw me enter, all emotion faded from his face and he defiantly turned away, busying himself with tidying up the table. A pang of hurt pierced me and I rubbed an elbow as I thought of words to say. He'd been like this for days and I couldn't believe that he could go so long like this. We've never been apart like this for so long. One of us would always go back to the other, seeking retribution in physical intimacy. But now it was like he wouldn't even let me play my part. My head spun with the possibility that I'd hurt him in an irredeemable way. My body trembled with the very thought of him hating me. His love had the strength of a thousand suns and his coldness was equally potent. I couldn't survive a supernova of his doing.

"Lucifer, talk to me," my voice quaked as it left my lips.

"I have nothing to say to you," he immediately said, still not facing me.

"You got what you wanted, didn't you?" I tried to reason. "The proposal's cancelled."

"Because I tried," he rebutted. "Would _you_ have?" He turned to face me. "Would you have fought for _us_?"

"There would have been no _us_ if Amara kills us all," I argued. "Did you want me to run my mouth to God like you did and expect no repercussions?"

"I wanted you to _try!_ " he yelled, seething. "If I hadn't done what I did, you would have just gone along with it, wouldn't you? Everything we ever had would crumble at our feet and you would have just watched! Maybe I never meant anything to you after all."

"Don't claim to know what anything means to me!" I snapped. "You would have me disrespect the one person I owe my life to?" I huffed, almost unable to believe him, as I crossed my arms. "Unlike most of us, being an idiot has always worked in your favour." A tense silence eclipsed the room as we just stood with heated air between us. His eyes narrowed, clearly angered by my tone, so I tried to calm down. "I…" I gulped. "I couldn't speak against Him because it would call into question my faith and I couldn't have that. And loving you… has always put me against my faith."

"So am I just- just some kind of risk? A liability to you?" he questioned accusatively. He looked away for moment, eyes contorting with pain. My own heart wrenched to see him this way and I could stand it no longer.

"I'm just saying it like it is. But what I did was wrong," I confessed. I tried my best to blink away the tears but I still worried that they would escape against my will. "I see that now. If anything, this has shown me what it truly means to love. I will do as you did. I will fight for us. Will you… forgive me?"

He said nothing, sitting back on the table like he wasn't sure what to do. The sunlight filtered in generously, casting a fiery silhouette through his amber hair. Taking a chance, I dared approach him. Hesitantly at first, I brought my arms up to his shoulders. He didn't resist. I leaned forward, wrapping my hands around him and pulling myself closer and hugging myself to him. I let out an exhale as my head rested against his.

"I'm so sorry," I apologised as a tear defied me and ran down my cheek. My body shook with the fear that this would not be enough – that nothing would be enough – to remedy the rift between us. Then I felt his hand on my back. He drew me closer, wordlessly holding me as I sobbed in his arms.

* * *

The subsequent months were hectic. Along with our main duties, we trained together everyday. News had spread across Heaven that the fight was about to go down soon. A sense of foreboding swept throughout Heaven. I knew I had been giving it my all in training with the archangels. Yet I could not shake off the feeling that I was somehow to blame for the depression in the liveliness of Heaven. If I had felt pressured by the opinions of mere angels before, now I felt worse. But I could not let this get in the way of the greater goal. God had made the final decision. I had to trust that God knew best.

Besides, it began to feel as though the tide of angels' opinions had begun to change. I went into the armoury one day to purchase upgrades for my archangel blade and I saw the angel Hassiel. Hassiel was a master craftsman with regards to weaponry. He had single-handedly crafted some of the most powerful weapons that were kept safely in the armoury, which was heated by several kilns placed along the walls of the elongated room. Two rooms were built into the workshop – one to store weapons that were freshly made, and another that served as an office for Hassiel.

Upon seeing me, his eyes lit up and he gave me a warm smile. "Archangel Sophia," he greeted, flipping a towel which he'd used to polish a blade over his shoulder. "News around the garrison is that the archangels are training to fight The Darkness."

"That would be correct," I confirmed as I set my archangel blade down on his workbench. It was a neat little short sword, plain of design and balanced well for my nimble grip. "The truce has been tabled as an option."

"A wise move, if you ask me," Hassiel opined. "Many other angels that I spoke to called your loyalties into question after the whole thing with the Feast. They were talking as though it would be the end of the universe if you refused. To be frank, it was beginning to get on my nerves and I was secretly hoping you would say no just to shut them up. "

"Hm," I regarded his words. "You weren't worried that my refusal would result in more chaos in the universe or anything?"

"There's always going to be more chaos in the universe. Any cherub with a basal understanding of entropy could tell you that," he nodded at me. "Nothing you could have done to prevent it. I mean, it's not like God wouldn't have found another way. Perhaps it is _their_ faith which is questionable. God is wise, and only He can save us. It doesn't matter what you, or anyone else does. I believe God was merely giving you the opportunity to select an outcome, not secure or destroy the universe."

"Your words are kind, Hass," I thanked him, feeling a warmth radiate from within me. "And your opinions are refreshing, as usual. You would do well as my apprentice, if you so wished."

He let out a chuckle from deep within him, like he was channelling from a pit of utmost sincerity. "My talents are best utilised here, m'lady," he said, eyeing one of the newer angels who was busy at work. "Who else would tell these lovable amateurs to-" he abruptly faced said angel. "-QUENCH IT WHEN IT'S HOT," he yelled an instruction across the workshop. The poor angel flinched and immediately doused the glowing red metal in a nearby bucket, evoking hissing noises and steam from the bucket. Hassiel bellowed with laughter at the sight of the shock on the angel's face.

"He's new at this. Leave him alone," I bid him, though I couldn't help but smirk with him.

"As much as it would please me to work with you, I'm sure you already have your hands full with those six clowns you call apprentices," he joked. "Did you pick them from the reject pile or something?"

"Hey," I stopped him. "They were chosen because they are exceptional in their thinking and break out of the norms of angelic obedience. Which…" I relented with a head-tilt. "…I suppose puts them in the reject pile."

"They certainly admire you for it," Hassiel remarked, a smile as gentle as his personality reaching his lips. "And they wouldn't be the only ones. I know you find it hard to believe sometimes, but people love you, Sophia. It may not seem like it, but there are angels who value your contributions and who'll listen to you. I want you to know that."

"Why, thank you, Hass," I flushed. "You've a heart the size of Heaven."

"So how may I be of service to you today?" he offered.

"Oh yes. I would like to renew my archangel blade and inquire as to what upgrades you would recommend," I said, handing over the blade. Sunlight glistened off the smooth grind of the blade, its intensity as deadly as the blade itself. Taking my blade, Hassiel scanned it for wear and tear and held it up as though trying to envision what would go best with it.

"There are some cracks that we can fix quickly. But I do have a set of blueprints that I have been working on. You may browse through them and select an upgrade." Hassiel passed me a stack of parchments with several drawings, measurements and scribbles on them. There were plans for harnessing primordial energies, forging two blades to make it double-edged and even one that allowed remote control over the blade. All very tempting. Seeing as time was a constraint, I decided to get the upgrade to telekinetically control my blade. "Ah, wise choice, madam. I will see to it that your blade is in prime condition for your big fight in a few days."

"Thank you. For everything. I'll see you around," I bid farewell and left.

Next, it was time to train with Gabe and Raphael. We were working on our coordination, typically combatting Michael and Lucifer during training. This time, however, it would just be the three of us. We would journey to a distant galaxy as the amount of energy we'd release was far too great to be contained in the training yards. The journey was only moderately long, but the silence among the three of us was deafening. I couldn't help it if Raphael was generally unapproachable. Occasionally Gabriel would try to initiate conversation. "I wonder how Lucifer is holding up. Father's given him a huge responsibility," Gabriel said.

"He _is_ God's most favoured, and most _forthright_ , son," Raphael grumbled. Something about the way he said 'forthright' irked me and were it any other day, I would verbally fight him over it. But we had a mission and such things could not be allowed to distract us. "Father wants to trust him with the most important things, so be it. I just hope that we can weaken Amara enough," he responded.

Positioning ourselves suitably, the three of us entered a period of intense concentration. We were like tuning forks resonating with cosmic rays, feeling the ebb and flow of energy around us. This allowed us to harness energy from around us, channelling it in such a way that complemented one another. Our circle of energy grew stronger and stronger, pulsing within us as we released it carefully, like loosening a taut rope little by little. It was going fine for a while – perfect, actually – until I felt a little shift in the pool. It was just a small ripple at first, nothing much to worry about. But the ripple grew and I panicked, knowing that this would introduce instability in our balanced circle. If it got out of control, the effects could be devastating.

I tried to counteract it, introducing energy in the opposite direction. Clearly, this was a bad move. Before I knew it, things spiralled out of equilibrium and my eyes flung open in an attempt to warn the two of them to move away. But I was too late. In a fraction of a second, the resulting fluctuation catapulted Raphael across space, sending him careening into the distance. I gasped, hands clasped over my mouth as I was frozen on the spot. My mind just blanked out for a moment, taken by sheer disbelief. Luckily, Gabe was quicker to respond. His glassy wings furiously flapped in his brother's direction while I followed suit, cursing myself in my head for being so careless.

Gabe managed to catch Raphael in the nick of time, which apparently was the least of my concerns. I scanned him for damage and fortunately the damage wasn't irreparable. It was serendipitous for Raphael that I'd worked as his assistant in the infirmary in the beginning, without which I wouldn't have had valuable experience in treating injury and the use of medicines. But the experience of being his assistant wasn't so pleasant. But I digress. "I'm so sorry, Raph," I apologised. "I felt an imbalance in your direction and I tried to counteract it but things didn't work out so well."

"So it's my fault, is it?" he shot back accusatively. His eyebrows were sculpted in a deep-set frown that he must have been so used to displaying in my presence. I usually ignored it but in this circumstance, it wasn't so easy to avoid.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," I rushed to defend. "I should have told the both of you to stop."

"You mean like how you told Father to stop?" he criticised, pulling himself up to his feet. Gabe's eyes flickered between the two of us, puzzled. "That's right, Gabe, it's her fault we're not choosing peace. Because she thinks she's too good for Michael."

"That's not true," I argued. I was trying my best to be sympathetic because he was hurt but he just had to make things difficult, like he always did. "And it wasn't I who stopped the proposal. That was Lucifer. So if you have a problem with it, take it up with him!" _And I hope he breaks your jaw._

"You have him under some kind of spell, don't you?" Raphael continued. _Does this guy ever take a break?_ "I've been watching you two from Day One and all he does is follow you around like some kind of lost puppy! Heaven has never been the same since _you_ showed up. Maybe you're some kind of spy, sent by Amara to gain our trust and then destroy us."

"Raph!" Gabe exclaimed.

"Yes, tell us how you really feel!" I spat out bitterly. "You know, I am sick of people like you who have nothing better to do than blame _me_ for your problems! _God_ let me in. _God_ gave me a home. I am only answerable to Him, and if it really troubles you, you should blame Him!"

Raphael's eyes widened with fury and he raised his arm as though to strike me, but Gabriel held him back. "Alright!" Gabe shouted, holding his arms out between us. "This kind of petty fighting isn't going to get us anywhere! Can't we all just get along?"

For a moment, I pitied him. He had never really known the true extent of Raphael's vitriol towards me. It had always been my instinct to protect him from the ugliness of things, especially any kind of hostility among us. I will never forget the heartbroken look on his face on the day that Lucifer and Michael once fought about a certain military decision to fend off the Leviathans roaming on earth. I remembered how it shattered my heart into pieces before I decided to intervene between the two hot-headed brothers and tell them to shut up and work it out. And now it was Gabriel standing between Raphael and myself, taking on the burden of stopping our conflict. Perhaps this was the true indication that I was on a path of no return – that I'd let the brother who I practically raised like my own child take such a responsibility.

"I'll play along if he does," I said, shooting Raphael a look of disdain. "I have no need to prove my loyalty to you, or God. We need to focus on our mission."

Raphael still seemed visibly flustered. "I've tolerated you so far for the sake of God and my brothers. Pull something like this again, and I will not stop until I've seen you exiled from Heaven." Gabriel rolled his eyes. _The feeling is mutual,_ I thought. With a brief interval to cool the tensions and get back on our feet, the three of us attempted the move again, this time more carefully and successfully. Satisfied with the results, we embarked on another silent trip back to Heaven.

"I'm so sorry, Gabe," I apologised for the third time that week. We were stood in Gabe's office, which also happened to be my former office. I'd used it previously when Gabe was just a child stealing things from Lucifer's office and taking cover behind me. It always put a smile on my face to think of those times. Even though he'd grown up so much since then, I couldn't see anything but the chubby-cheeked little munchkin with the baby voice sometimes. God figured there would be a shortage of offices on this floor once Gabe grew up, so He gifted me the house that I cherished so much – it was a win-win situation. "I wish that you didn't have to see that."

"It was going to happen sooner or later," he reasoned as he despondently stared out the balcony at the buildings below. "I just didn't expect that he'd be so… bitter. It's almost… unlike of him."

"He's probably just stressed. We all are," I rubbed the back of his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "Things will get better soon. Then we can all put this behind us and move on."

"Yeah," he nodded as though he was trying to convince himself of the proposition. "I hate seeing all this fighting. We're all a family, right? Why can't that make things easier?"

"It does, believe me. Your brothers and I do care about each other, even if it doesn't look like it. We'll just forgive and forget, like we always do," I reassured him. "It's nothing to worry about, okay?"

His lips pursed and he nodded again. The solemnness didn't leave his eyes and that disheartened me a little. Were that I could take away all his sadness… "I just don't understand," he frowned.

"Understand what?" I pushed a lock of his dark, curly hair behind his ear.

"Raphael. Where is all that hate coming from?" He took a few breaths in an effort to formulate a question.

"That's just how he is, honey," I stated. "He's just always been that way to me. But he's only putting it in words now."

"That's not okay," Gabe insisted. "You don't deserve that. I mean-" he cut himself off to sigh. "How could he say those things to you? I can't believe I never saw this coming."

"You never saw it coming because I didn't want you to," I told him. "I always tried to stay calm with him but today I just… I just lost it. I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself," he said. "I know you're as opposed to this kind of in-fighting just as much as I am." Finally, his expression eased and he pulled me into a hug. There was a solace in his gentle arms that I found in no one else. Perhaps it was that I felt like I'd been a child when he was one and an adult when he was grown up. I was finding myself just as he was finding himself. We were kindred spirits in that sense, not just literally. And we both needed the stability of our home for the sake of sanity. "But promise me one thing," he began. "Promise me that you'll always help me keep our family together."

Resting my head on his shoulder, I was at total peace and all the unpleasantness from earlier had washed off in his company. "I promise," I said.

I should have been wiser. Never make promises you can't keep.

* * *

 ** _T minus zero._**

The five of us found ourselves at a random point in space, suddenly assembled. It must have been God who'd transported us here. We were all dazed for a while, before we realised that this was _the_ moment. The moment we'd been training for. Unlike what we had expected, God and Amara weren't fighting. They stood facing each other, calm. They also didn't acknowledge our existence. The five of us exchanged confused looks, and then Michael said, "She doesn't see us. There is some sort of transparent wall between us and them. I think God wants us to wait before we strike." And he was right. God was engaged in conversation with Amara.

"Please, Amara, let's put this behind us," God pleaded. "Go back to your world. To your creation. Do with it whatever you want."

"You know I want to," Amara snapped. Then Her voice grew sombre, almost sad even. I might have had sympathy for Her were it not for the intrusive flashbacks I still sometimes had about our time together. "It's what I've been trying to do ever since you put up that awful Veil between us. But I'm here because of what _you_ did. None of this would be happening right now if it wasn't for you forsaking me for your little toys! That is the root of everything that's ever happened between us."

"It's not like that. You have it wrong," God argued. "The potential for creation was always there, begging me to create."

"Oh, believe me, I know," She said somewhat sympathetically. "I tried to do what you did. I tried to create. And then you took the one thing I loved away from me!"

 _Love is a loose term for it,_ I thought wryly. "Then I'm sorry," God apologised. "We'll fix this, together." He reached out a hand towards her. Amara regarded Him with a look that could only be described as a combination of guilt and sadness and extended Her hand to hold His. Was this really going to happen? A reconciliation? My better instincts told me that such a thing was impossible between them, especially knowing Her. Yet something about Amara in that moment gave me pause. Maybe it was the way She seemed in need of reassurance, like someone torn up inside who just wanted love. Again the question of why She had chosen to confront us now of all times arose at the back of my mind. But before I could properly think it through, God let down the barrier between us and them. "Now, children!" He ordered.

In an instant, the area was flooded with light as we executed our plan. Lucifer and Michael struck first. They drove their Lances into her, but She remained standing. I will not forget the look of shock and anguish on Her face when She realised what was happening. That was when Raphael, Gabriel and I recognised our cue and supplemented their attack with our coordinated strike. What resulted was a brutal display of affliction as She fell to her knees, weakened by the combined force of our attack. God then brandished His staff and impaled her with it, delivering the final blow. The six of us held up our arms, channelling our strength together. God used this radiant energy like a thread to weave a prison realm, His intelligence working furiously to construct it.

"Lucifer, be ready, son," He instructed. Simultaneously, a strange mark appeared on Lucifer's arm and he winced in pain. With a painful groan Amara protested but it was to no avail, as She began to fade away. I rushed to Lucifer and held his arm, inspecting the Mark and making sure he was alright. When Amara was gone, the pain ceased and he heaved a sigh of relief. It was done. She was nowhere in sight. My Mother, the bane of my existence. A calming silence was present at that moment, allowing us to rest upon our victory. "It worked," God announced.

"Is She- Is She gone?" Gabriel checked. All of us looked to the Creator for a final reassurance.

God simply eyed the Mark on Lucifer's arm. Loud whispers emanated from it, denying us a feeling of closure. With a flick of His finger, God made the noise go away, and a static silence fell upon us. "She won't be a problem any longer," He said. Was that a tinge of remorse in His voice? "That Mark on your arm is the seal to Amara's prison. See to it that it remains intact," He commanded Lucifer.

"Yes, Father," Lucifer assented, though he was heaving for breaths. It must have exhausting for him. But it was all over now and I must have been the most relieved out of them all. And I fully intended to celebrate with him. He held a key that protected all of us from the Darkness. A key that saved our relationship. That, to me, was the single most powerful act of love I'd ever witnessed from anyone and it made me want to cry and laugh at the same time. He deserved the world for what he was willing to do. I wanted to give him everything, even if I wasn't sure how. I definitely wanted to try.

When we returned to Heaven, we could just feel the collective relief radiating from its very ground. The air felt ten times lighter now that Evil was vanquished. God announced a day of Sabbath for us to celebrate this victory. Gabriel suggested that the five of us spend some time together to celebrate among ourselves so we travelled to an orchard lined with fertile trees that looked tranquil under the clear sky. We were walking down the path bordered by a variety of flowers and needless to say, we were all relaxed and ready to just spend some quality time with each other. I don't even remember when the last time was that the five of us simply enjoyed each other's company.

"This is nice. Just a day with the five of us, together," Michael began. "We should do this more often."

"Yes, war shouldn't be the only reason for me to see all my siblings in the same place," Gabriel agreed. We sat under a tree, basking in the warmth of the grove. Gabriel and I raced to climb the tree which was something we always did ever since I taught him how to scale a tree without using our wings. It used to be a tradition, at least until we began behaving like grown-ups. He laughed gleefully as we competed to knock down as many fruits as we could. I threw my head back and laughed when I hurled one at him and he almost lost his balance.

"Don't get too excited, you two," Lucifer called out from below. "There's enough down here to feed a whole garrison!"

"This? It's just Gabe's appetizer," I teased in response. I turned back to Gabe in the nick of time to dodge a fruit hurled my way. Lucifer just _had_ to be the parent in that moment. It was usually me when the three of us would hang out in the early days, but I supposed we did take turns depending on Gabe's mood. There was a reason that it was typically just the three of us. That part where Raphael said Lucifer followed me around like a lost puppy? Not untrue. He always did try to get my attention, even to the point of being an annoyance, but most of the time, his plans to get me alone with him were foiled by little Gabe. Whether it was intentional or not, I was unsure, but that little kid looked like he had deeper instincts than his age implied. I didn't mind it at all. I loved what we had. We were a dream team, so to speak. All the things we did together – that is a compilation of stories for another time.

Gabe and I settled on either side of Lucifer as he poured us both glasses of wine and leaned against the bark of the tree to stare at the distant hills. It was absolutely wonderful. The perfect drink after a long period of stress. As I took a mouthful of my drink, I couldn't help but watch him with a boundless affection so deep in my spirit it felt like I was composed purely of it. I wondered if he could feel my emotion beaming from me. If he couldn't, I wanted to make sure he knew how I felt. My finger curled a lock of my hair instinctively without me noticing. It was that heat again, returning to me and making me yearn for a moment alone with him. Or maybe it was the wine. It didn't matter.

I decided to tear my eyes away from him for a moment. The trajectory of my gaze collided with Michael's. He averted his head immediately, as if hiding the fact that he'd been observing me. I suddenly felt self-conscious. What must he think? I hoped he didn't suspect anything, though the dispirited look in his eyes could not be disproven by his neutral expression. He managed a smile at his brothers but the dark cloud never left his irises. Somehow I felt responsible for this.

Raphael observed the sunlit sky quietly. He rarely seemed so tranquil, but I supposed he felt relieved enough that day to not think about how much he disliked me and just enjoy the moment. I certainly wasn't complaining. I was never against the idea of all five of us spending time together; it just never happened that often. At least one good thing came out of fighting Amara. I suppose I should feel something – a sense of loss perhaps – for the Being who created me but absurdly, I did not. Rather, I felt a strange disinterestedness with regard to it. Was this a flaw of mine, or was it normal? Either way, Amara was a part of my life that was put behind me that day. Or so I thought.

I remembered every detail of that moment. The sounds of Michael and Gabriel's banter, the smell of the sweet fruits as Raphael took a bite, the feeling of cool air blowing in from the West, the romantic intimacy hidden by Lucifer's arm resting against mine, the euphoric calm that the five of us shared. All of this was ingrained in my memory, as the moment right before everything went bad.

Lucifer winced.

We all jerked our heads toward him. His face held a confused expression as he curiously traced the Mark on his right arm, where it was positioned just near the crook of his elbow. "It's probably nothing," he gandered.

So we all eased up and breathed, returning to the moment as easily as a leaf sank to the ground once detached from its branch.

Then, like he had been punched in the gut, he doubled over, this time yelling in pain. We all shot up, rushing to his side. Being the nearest one to him, I instinctively gripped his shoulder and upper arm, hoping that my contact could provide any kind of solace. Any, at all. But otherwise, my words were stuck in my throat. Lucifer groaned through clenched teeth, facial muscles taut as he battled some phantom we could not see. For the first time in a long time, I felt true fear.

"Lay him down," Raphael ordered. He was the healer among us. Gabriel and Michael obliged, holding Lucifer's shoulders down while I whispered consoling words that I wasn't sure I believed myself. This was when we noticed the Mark. It was glowing fiercely. Raphael traced the Mark with his fingers, trying to do some kind of preliminary assessment. Then, he slowly withdrew like he didn't know what to make of what he saw. "We need to get Father over. Now!"

I didn't know what to think at the time. Why was this happening, was this normal, is he going to die – these questions played on in my mind on repeat. It killed me not to know and every minute that I couldn't help him felt like an eternity.

* * *

I didn't even realise that my cheeks were damp until Lucifer wiped a tear away with his thumb. Even in his weakened state that had just been granted temporary relief by God's will, his carmine eyes found me first from where he lay supine on the ground. My lips trembled as I held his hand with both of my own as if that would secure him and keep him from leaving or worse… dying. He was always a little pale but now it had gotten to a point where he appeared frozen like ice until God intervened. Colour slowly returned to his lips, reassuring us that he was alive. We all looked to the Creator, eagerly anticipating His much-needed words.

"It's the Mark," He said. I felt a pang of disappointment at the fact that His first words did not soothe my panic. "It's feeding on you for its power." Again, not helping. "You must fight its influence." God, _please._ "You will learn to control it." Then He turned to me. "Sophia, you must take care of him. This is your domain."

"You need not even say it. I will," I swore through the flood of tears that never ceased. Perhaps I should have pressed Him on what He meant by saying that this was _my_ domain. It should have alerted me that this task – one of healing – was given to _me_ , and not Raphael, who clearly had more expertise in such matters. Of course, I thought nothing of it at the time because I was too busy being grateful for every moment that Lucifer was fine.

And as cryptically as He'd spoken, God left us without so much as a word of consolation. That was what it was like with Him these days – all orders and commands and little comfort. While our lives in Heaven _were_ essentially run like a structured military organisation, it seemed to me that it should never _feel_ that way. A family wasn't supposed to feel so rigid, even if it did have such functions. But with the way God was, He felt more unreachable than ever in that moment that I felt the most helpless I'd ever been. Something about the edge of life and death just shook me with the realisation of everything that was wrong. It left me with a stunning vision of absurdity like nothing made sense at all. His _son_ just suffered some kind of fit and He just left the responsibility to us and took off? Was I missing something?

"What are you feeling?" Raphael asked as Lucifer sat back up. He had this dazed look like he didn't quite understand what had just happened.

"I feel…" Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he searched for the words. "…Her anger. Clearly Amara doesn't like where She's ended up. It's like… She's screaming to get out but there aren't any words…" he struggled to come up with an apt description. "It's- it's crazy."

Michael patted his shoulder, his eyes bearing concern for his younger brother. "Hang in there, Lucifer, I'm sure you and Sophia can find a way to deal with this." His eyes searched mine for reassurance but I was far too disturbed at the moment to offer it to him.

"Are you sure you can handle this on your own?" Raphael questioned me rather bitterly.

"You won't be alone," Gabe eyed Raphael with an untold disapproval in his tone. "This is on all of us."

"I agree," Michael said. He let out a short exhale, lost in thought. "You should rest, brother. I'll take over your work until you get better." He gestured to me with his eyes. The brothers walked us to my house, where Lucifer would stay while I figured out what to do.

"I'll be fine, brothers," Lucifer declared, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm sure I'll get used to it."

Not long after later the others left, Lucifer appeared relatively calm. It would have been difficult to believe that he had been on what I considered to be the verge of death just moments ago. He sat commandingly at my desk, feet propped up on the table. I watched nervously from the door, holding a steaming cup in both my hands. He hadn't noticed my presence. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped behind his head. The dark outline of the Mark appeared so out-of-place in this scene, like a word in a sentence that didn't quite fit. Though it seemed like he truly had a moment of peace, I suspected that something foreign lay behind those heavy eyes. Telling myself that this was probably nothing to worry about, I pulled back my shoulders. I prepared myself to at least pretend that I had it handled. Maybe I'd pretend so well that it would become true.

I confidently approached, setting down the cup and knocking his feet off my table. He groaned, as he normally would, and gave me a thin-lipped devious smile that meant trouble. "Hey," he greeted casually, with that slow, seductive voice that he used only when we were alone. "Anyone ever tell you that you make the stars jealous? You shine brighter than them _and_ you have _me_ orbiting around you."

He smirked at his own attempt at a flirtation. "I'm jealous of _them_ ," I replied mockingly. I pointed to the cup with my eyes, hands rested on my hips like a stern mother.

"You really think this will help?" he asked, curiously studying its contents.

I stared into his glistening eyes, carefully wording my next sentence. "I-I don't know, if I'm being honest. It's not like God left us an instruction manual. But it will make you feel better until I figure out a better solution." My eyes drifted away. The future seemed so uncertain. Finding solutions used to be easy. But in the face of something so ancient and powerful, how could I have the same confidence?

"Hey, hey, look at me," Lucifer took my hand and pulled me towards the present moment and himself. Unable to resist his electric touch, I sat on his lap as his arms encircled my waist and mine his shoulders. "I know that look on your face. You had it when we first kissed and it wasn't because you didn't enjoy it and I'm pretty sure you did." He flashed me a smug grin which made me chuckle. "You were worried. Whatever it is you're worried about, I want you to know that I trust you completely. Father left this to you because He does too and I'm glad He did because that means we get a lot of private time together…" Another smug grin.

"Lucifer," I snapped him out of it. "Your point?"

"The point is, it is entirely within your capacity to handle this. Have some faith, Sophia. Isn't that what you always say? Trust in God, in yourself. And you won't be alone. We're in this together so wipe that frown off your face, or I'll do it for you," he ordered.

I couldn't help but smile. "Hmm…" My fingers bunched the fabric of his shirt in a demure grip. "Will you do it anyway?" I requested somewhat shyly. He chuckled and swooped in for a kiss. Our lips met and it felt like all was right in the universe again. I pulled away and our faces remained in proximity to each other. He leaned in for another but I put my finger on his lip. I shoved the concoction in between us and said, "Drink."


	7. The Addiction

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 7: The Addiction**

 ** _Phase One_**

Michael had insisted that Lucifer remain under my care and really, it hadn't been long enough after the fight for him to be obligated to return to work. I remembered a time not long ago when Lucifer and Michael led a war against the Leviathans on earth. Things had gotten so bad to the point that war was the only option left. Raphael had gone with them as a field medic and most angels had been enlisted to follow them. Since Gabriel was still a child, he and I remained home, where I would oversee the administrative matters and watch over him. Heaven had felt so empty then, half its atmosphere stolen by the stunning lack of its residents. My own heart ached without Lucifer there and that was when I truly realised how much I loved having him around. Years I spent longing for their return, without being able to take so much as a peek at earth because it was too dangerous to leave Heaven.

It had been such a joyous moment when the troops returned. I'd made sure the citadel was decorated as pompously as possible to give them the best welcome. I was overcome with so much excitement that I couldn't contain myself and excused myself to reflect fully on how much it had hurt for me to have been so alone. An uncontrolled smile reached my lips as I remembered how Lucifer and I had found each other that day. He'd disappeared to his private residence that was in a location similarly isolated to my house – it was where he would go when he _really_ needed the personal space and where his most precious weapons and items were stored safely. He didn't notice me entering as he took off his battle-worn armour in the bedroom. The only noise was the sound of each clasp being undone as the metal plates came off. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to burst out of its seat. As slick as a tree snake, I curved my hands around his torso. As soon as he felt my touch, he grabbed my hand and flipped me onto the bed, pinning me down like I'd come to attack him.

Our eyes widened as we stared at each other, both of us attempting recognition. He recognised me as his ever-patient lover who definitely wasn't there to hurt him, and I'd come to recognise him as the same Lucifer he always was under a new look with a scruffy, trimmed beard. The only true mark of our identities was the distinct colouration of our eyes, which reassured us before any rational thought. What happened after, however… that's private.

There's a reason I began bringing this up. We'd spent so long in each other's company to catch up on time lost, all with Michael's permission. The eldest always allowed Lucifer to slack off from time to time, offering to take care of things until Lucifer wished to return. It had always been that Michael enjoyed his work more than the rest of us and he certainly didn't mind when his little brother wanted some R&R. So it really wasn't like Lucifer _needed_ to return to work after we trapped The Darkness. But he insisted anyway.

He was back at Imperium and there was nothing I could do to stop him and confine him to my house. Having talked with Michael about it, we decided it would be okay so long as we were both taking turns to keep an eye him. And so it began.

"I'm sorry, did you just say that _Lucifer_ got attacked by a _Leviathan_?" I asked of Michael, standing before him in his office. "How?"

"That's what he told me," Michael had a neutral expression which I suspected he used to avoid looking lost.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, not sure which of my questions should be the first. Michael patiently nodded as I tried to get my thoughts together. "I… we… I left him _here_ yesterday," I stammered. "How did he end up in the badlands? On _earth_?"

"These are all great questions," Michael simply said, hands clasped on his desk. "When I found him, he was covered from head to toe in grime and innards and he only spoke one word: _Leviathan._ "

I gaped, unsure of what to make of this revelation. My mind was faced with an uncomfortable barrier which could not reconcile what I knew of Lucifer and what I was hearing. I craved some kind of explanation that made it clearer to me because I could not handle this feeling of dissonance.

"And Sophie," Michael snapped me out of my thoughts. "He seemed… _oddly_ calm. I've never seen him so quiet before. Especially after showing up in such improper decorum."

"It's probably nothing," I said as if I believed it. At least I thought I did. His irises eased in relief. "So he didn't tell you what happened or how he ended up there?"

"All he said was that he was jumped by a Leviathan and had no choice but to use his hands in the absence of his weapons," he explained, eyes roving over the table as he recalled the encounter. "And then he went off to get cleaned up, I presume."

"Hm. That's… strange. Lucifer never goes anywhere without his sword or at least a knife," I pondered.

"That's what I thought too," Michael agreed. "Could you talk to him? Find out what's happened."

"Yes, of course," I assented.

"It seems he prefers confiding in you," he posited, in a somewhat uneasy manner. I paused my thought, now taken by the little shift in his voice. I wondered if there was something on his mind. He fidgeted with a paperweight as if channelling some unknowable mystery into it.

"How are you, Michael?" I enquired. "Are you doing alright? After the fight and everything?"

"Yes, I'm good," he replied monotonously. "I'm relieved that The Darkness has been defeated and that all of you are finally safe."

It sounded more like a textbook answer that a cherub would read to commit information to memory. "Michael… I never got to ask you…" I began hesitantly. I was treading on thin ice and I didn't want to say anything to upset him. But I really needed to know, for the sake of a clear conscience. "I hope God's decision to fight Amara instead of… binding us through marriage didn't upset you."

He stopped what he was doing and pierced me with a gleaming silver gaze. It bore through me with a thousand untold emotions that he was so good at hiding behind a thick, fortified wall in his mind. His lips curved up on one side as he shook his head disinterestedly. "No, don't worry about it," he answered with a serene air about him. "Really," he took my hand in both of his. "I mean it." Why didn't I believe him? "It is my firm belief that Father knows best about all matters. And nothing would please me more than enacting what He thought was best. Wouldn't you feel the same?"

"Certainly," I replied. My mind seemed to grow heavier by the day. "You're right. It is only in His power to bind us in a sacred matrimony, and His power to deem it necessary or not."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Michael admitted. We exchanged smiles that were too formal to mean anything.

Mind full of words that never decided whose side they were on, I took my leave. Just as I entered the hallway connecting the archangels' offices, I saw a door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway. Lucifer's door. My fingers took chances with the door, nudging it open slowly such that it made almost no noise as I peered inside. I saw his bare back. He was wearing his casual garment – a pair of loose pants with a robe that went around his waist once and was to be flung over the left shoulder. It appeared dark with white and mud-green specks here and there. And that was something to behold, considering the garment was supposed to be a silky white. Things must have gotten really dirty with the Leviathan. His skin was not spared either. He appeared to be wiping himself with a hand towel.

"That is not going to suffice, you know," I pointed out. He turned around in the middle of wiping his cheeks. The towel was pulled away to reveal a dark, tar stain yet his face remained smeared. I sighed.

"A real mess, I know," Lucifer cringed. "I'm sure you're wondering how this happened-"

"Leviathan, Michael told me," I informed him. "What I want to know is why you were on earth, when you were supposed to be here."

"And I want to tell you," he promised. He approached and I tensed, getting somewhat uneasy at the thought of having bits of those abominable Leviathans in our sacred home. "There _is_ an explanation to all of this."

He reached out a hand to rest on my upper arm and I shrank away. "Let's get you…" I gestured towards him. "… cleaned up first."

Lucifer smirked, unseemly of the moment. "Are you going to help?" he asked excitedly.

I managed a pained nod. "Someone has to," I admitted, trying my best not to think of what pieces of dead Leviathan were where. I found a clean spot at the crook of his thumb that I held onto with two fingers as I led him out of the citadel. I found us a nice hot spring far away from Imperium, only stopping over at my house to raid for every single towel I could find. I dreaded the task of scrubbing till my own hands turned black from Leviathan juice but it had to be done. As expected, Lucifer had a silly, goofy grin on his face as he saw me get to work. He stood in the steaming hot spring, with water reaching his chest-level, while I sat on the edge with only my shins immersed in the water. "Wipe that damned smile off your face, Morningstar," I grumbled as I soaked the first of many towels in the water.

"Lighten up, would you?" he urged, resting his hands on the ground next to my thighs. "I know I need to."

I wrung the towel over his head, letting the water generously trickle down his hair and face. His eyes shut tightly and he shook his head once to get off the excess water. That was one way to shut him up – the list grew longer every day. I started with his face, scrubbing the towel against a single spot on his cheek until I finally saw his skin again. At some point when I began really getting into the daunting task, his face moved closer to mine, seeking my lips. Again, I shrunk away. "Lucifer!"

"What? Get dirty with me, Sophie," he begged like a child. "We can clean each other up later." When he saw that I wasn't relenting, he changed tactic. "Well, my tongue is clean…"

I snarled at him before he could dig into my neck. "Then you can use it to lick yourself clean!" I snapped without meaning to. My hand froze mid-air with the towel. "Sorry."

His smile faded and he sighed. _No… why did I do that? I shouldn't have._ "I know this is all confusing," he began. "But I assure you, this is not worth worrying about."

"Not worth-? Lucifer, you left home without telling Michael or me," I said sharply, continuing on his face.

"What, do I have to? I am not a child," he defiantly argued while pressing my towelled hand to his face to pause my movement. "I don't need anyone's permission to go anywhere I please."

"You're right, you don't. But that thing on your arm is doing God-knows-what to you and until we figure out what _exactly_ is going on, I'm going to need you to work with us. We just want to make sure you're alright," I explained to him, now working on his neck and shoulders.

"I'm _fine_!" he insisted. "What happened at the orchard was probably just a one-time thing, okay? Just Amara knocking on the door and letting me know that She's there. Now I'll ignore Her, like I have been for billions of years now." I kept an eyebrow raised, still not fully at ease, as I discarded the first towel for another. "Interesting, though, that you mention God. It's why I was there."

"God summoned you to earth?" I inferred.

"Uh, not really," he rubbed the back of his head with a hand. He pulled his hand away and there was more grime so naturally, I turned him around to work on his back too. "I went looking for Him, because that's where He usually is, right? In Eden?"

"You're not supposed to intrude when He's working," I reminded him. "Unless He calls for you."

"Screw that," he spat out, huffing sardonically. Again, my hand paused. He turned around, wondering why, only to see my dazed expression. "What? Don't look at me like that. I needed answers."

"You worry me sometimes, you know. With the way that you are," I expressed concern. "Being like this with us? It's fine. But He's your father. You ought to show some respect."

"Of course I respect him," he defended. His expression contorted like it was ridiculous that I would claim such a thing. "But what kind of respect would it be if I couldn't ask Him questions? Isn't it a sign that I respect His opinions when I ask about them?"

"I am not denying that. Even I ask Him many questions. He's always been more than welcoming of questions," I rebutted. "All I'm saying is that, there is a proper etiquette for these sorts of things. Pray to Him and He will hear you. He will answer you at His own time. Who knows how busy He is?"

"Answer me at His own time," he repeated mockingly. "Code for 'you'll never hear anything ever'."

"Lucifer," I stopped him again in an attempt to make him see reason. "Have some faith, darling."

"This isn't about faith, love," his voice grew softer. That was how I knew he was being serious. "I just… I _really_ needed to see Him. It couldn't wait. It's about the Mark. And before you say it, I know I'm making it sound more serious than it actually is but it _really_ isn't."

I tilted my head in confusion. "You say that you're fine and this is nothing to worry about… yet you seek God because you absolutely have to understand what's happening to you." I threw my hands up. "Are you not seeing this?"

"But I mean it," his puppy-like eyes pleaded me to accept what he was saying. "I don't want you to worry about it."

I scoffed. "If there is something to worry about, I _want_ to worry about it!" I couldn't believe I had to lay any of this out. "You shouldn't have to deal with this alone. And you want to know what would actually worry any of us? You… pretending that everything's okay when it's not!"

He gaped, stunned to silence. "Alright…" he trailed off.

"Now, at which point did the Leviathan attack you?" I remembered to ask. It had almost slipped my mind but the stark black goo on the towels brought me back to the matter at hand.

"Okay, so, about that," he stammered. "I lied to Michael."

"This just gets better and better, doesn't it?" I remarked dryly.

"Hear me out, okay? You're the only person who I can be honest with," he pleaded. "So I went to find Father in Eden. He wasn't there. I called out again and again. Even got on my knees to pray. So naturally, I was… upset. More than upset, actually…" he looked away, caught in a daze as if the events were unfurling right before his eyes. "I don't know why, but I felt so _frustrated._ And I just needed to…" he held his clenched fists up and mimicked a punching move. "… hit something."

I wanted to say something but I stopped myself. He said that he wanted to be honest with me so that bound me to listen without judgment until he was done.

"But every time I thought I found something or thought of something to strike, I just couldn't. I didn't want to hurt that poor jungle cat, or some tree…" my shoulders eased temporarily. "Then I thought, 'what deserves to get hit?'"

"And the first answer that came to mind was Leviathan?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "I found one of those slimy bastards and did his head in with my bare hands. I felt a lot better."

I tried to suppress a reflexive shudder. "You… incited violence on a living creature?" I pressed.

"I'm not proud of it," he confessed. "I know I shouldn't be. But in that moment… it felt so good, Sophie."

"I can't endorse this course of action," I honestly said despite being unsettled. "Hurting other people is not a solution to whatever you're experiencing."

"I know. I don't expect you to," he neared me. The guilt in his eyes was evidence enough to me that there was hope for things to get better.

"One question," I interjected. "Why didn't you have a sword with you? Why did you go down there unarmed?"

"That's two, by the way," he pointed out. "Don't freak out, but I… may have anticipated this."

"Anticipated what?" I dared ask, unsure if I wanted the answer.

"That I would need to… relieve my stress."

I blinked a few times. "You planned this," I realised. "You wanted to maim something in the most brutal way you could."

"Hey, no. That's not it," he denied. "I just wanted to _challenge_ myself. What kind of a fighter would I be if I couldn't handle myself without my weapons?"

My lips pursed in thought. "You could have gotten hurt," I thought out loud. "Leviathans are formidable opponents. _And_ you've chosen to provoke one of them for your own frustrations."

"Again, I understand that it sounds bad-"

"It _is_ bad," I confirmed.

"Anyway, it's _just_ a Leviathan. No one's mourning him," Lucifer tried to convince me. I didn't like how any of this sounded at all. I stared at the towel I held between my hands on my lap. My body felt so tight all of a sudden. I only wished for a break.

"I suppose you're right," I acceded. "I couldn't worry about the universe having one less Leviathan." That's when I noticed his hands. They were rested against my waist. His grip slowly tightened. I sought some explanation in his face and saw his eyes twinkling playfully. Realising what was about to happen, my eyes widened. "Lucifer, no, don't-"

With a swift yank, he pulled me into the water with him. His maniacal laughter was all I heard as I reeled from the shock of having the hot water submerging most of my body. My dress grew heavier with the weight of water it was absorbing, feeling almost like an anchor holding me down in the spring. "Hey," that seductive voice again. "You want to know what else is clean?"

He suggestively raised his eyebrows. _Unbelievable._ At least this was confirmation that he was normal. "What, you think I'm going to _reward_ you for your unacceptable behaviour?" I questioned, reciprocating maybe a little of that infectious mischief.

"Oh no, it's actually a punishment," he proclaimed with faux seriousness. I frowned, expecting an explanation. "You'll be showing me the ecstasy that I'll be deprived of if I ever did something like this again."

"Did God accidentally fry your mind when He forged you out of Light? How do you ever think of these things?" I half-snickered.

"The sight of you is just so inspiring," he grinned. "I wasn't a poet until you came along."

The days passed as soon as they arrived. The thought often returned to me of the dead Leviathan. In the beginning, I kept telling myself that it wasn't of import; that it didn't matter that Lucifer had felt so angry he'd gotten violent. He was typically a peaceful guy – we were all peaceful, using violence only when it was absolutely necessary and called for – so this incident was an anomaly in the web of threads that was his life. But more anomalies began popping up.

There was the time he and Gabriel were sparring in the private training yards reserved for the archangels out of anyone's sights. I wasn't there, but I was told that his fighting grew more… aggressive. That alone would not have been a problem. Sparring had rules which ensured that we'd improve our capabilities while minimising injury. Michael informed me that Lucifer was seriously pushing the rules, not accepting a yield and continuing to play the offense with his little brother. When questioned about it, he simply said that he was challenging Gabriel to react to tough situations. If Gabe hadn't reacted in time, he could have gotten seriously hurt, as was what Michael said.

Again, my love for him bid me to think that this was a one-time thing. Being someone who valued truth, I decided to test the theory. I took up a practice sword and sparred with him myself. I didn't find anything strange. In fact, he had more words of advice for me than usual. I found myself wondering why I didn't train more often. If anything, I berated him for being so harsh on Gabe and he apologised to his little brother. All would be well after, right? No.

It all came back to that Leviathan. Something in him had changed that day. Like some kind of barrier had been breached. He seemed like himself, yet not so at the same time. I grew wary, remaining as open-minded as possible, though Michael wasn't so accommodating. I hoped – and prayed – that this would all change soon and the two brothers would go back to being _brothers_ but I couldn't have known how ambitious I was being.

* * *

 ** _Phase Two_**

Michael was evidently cross. I fiddled my thumbs as I anticipated the exchange. The five of us stood in the conference room. We'd rushed in so quickly to speak in private that we weren't even bothering to sit down. "What were you thinking?" Michael demanded to know.

"I was thinking we needed answers," Lucifer replied, emphasising each word. "And he was stalling."

"You killed him!" Michael shouted back. "Did you think he was going to talk with a knife in his chest? Or without his head?"

"He needed to know that the threat was real," Lucifer reasoned, equally annoyed with his brother. The rest of us just watched in plain bewilderment. The moments zoomed by so quickly it was hard to know how to react. "These Leviathans don't fear us anymore because they think we're not willing to do what's necessary."

"This is not our way!" Michael snapped. "This isn't the honour that Father always bid us to have."

"If Father had such a big problem with it, where is He now?" Lucifer snarled. "If the lives of these Leviathans really mattered to Him, I'd think He'd be more vocal about it."

"How dare you!" Michael spat out bitterly. "How dare you say such a thing!"

"Oh I dare," Lucifer challenged. Things had escalated so quickly. I was at a loss for words. Gabriel had that look in his eyes again. He was as tired of this as I was. I remembered our promise.

"Father is not beholden to answer to you, Lucifer," Michael admonished.

"Isn't He? He just stuck us in this universe, expecting us to clean up the mess He made with the Leviathans and you just go along with it like there's nothing wrong?" Lucifer shot back. "The least He could do is guide us in some way. Show His face for once and take responsibility."

"You speak of taking responsibility, brother?" Michael questioned fiercely. "After denying your clear violation of our code? We do _not_ kill our prisoners during interrogation, let alone torture them, and you've done both to at least three of them!"

"Maybe the code is holding us back!" Lucifer said viciously. "It's why our enemies are getting ahead of us."

Michael was about to say something in return, but Gabriel intervened. "Alright, that's enough. The both of you," he calmly interjected. The shouting ceased, but the furious eye contact did not.

"Something is wrong with you," Michael stated plainly. "You're not thinking clearly."

"So I'm insane for having a different opinion from you?" Lucifer rebutted accusatively.

"It's your opinion that's insane," Raphael snidely asserted from beside him. He'd been watching this conversation with an unamused calm, like he was just waiting for the ball to drop. "But if the shoe fits…"

"What did you say to me?" Lucifer snapped at him. His body angled towards Raph, arm tensing as he grabbed his brother by his collar and shoved him back against the wall. _Oh no._ This time it was my turn to intervene. Before his other hand could be drawn backwards, I lunged forward and grabbed his arm. As much I've wished for Raphael to get hurt in some way, this was neither the time nor the place for such a thing.

"Get away from him!" I ordered as I tugged on his bicep. The seconds grew short. The moment passed by me in a hurry. It was probably a reflexive action for him. As soon as Lucifer felt his arm being hindered, he jerked it backwards to get free. But that also meant I was in the way. I let out an audible grunt as his hand struck me and sent me stumbling backwards.

I froze in my place, hand pressed to my cheek. I couldn't say anything for shock had left me speechless.

"Sophie!" Gabe rushed over to check on me. His thumb caressed my cheek where it stung. Michael followed suit, both of them comforting me as they inspected where I'd been struck. I wish I could have told them I was fine but even I could not deny the hurt I felt. My eyes dared stray to look at Lucifer, who had nothing but utter remorse written all over his face. His chest heaved with heavy breaths. His fingers twitched for a moment before he made towards me, meaning to confront what he had done himself.

But Michael stood in his way defiantly. "Haven't you done enough damage in one day already?" he sternly criticised. Gabe's arms tightened around my shoulders as if to protect me from his own older brother.

Lucifer's eyes flickered between his brothers and me, contorting with pain. I knew he didn't mean it. I could tell he wanted to ask forgiveness. He probably didn't know what he was doing. Stuff like that made us do things we couldn't control. Except in Lucifer's case, it seemed to be happening all too often. I only got a glimpse before Lucifer stormed off, but I could have sworn that the Mark on his arm flashed a brief warning. _You would ruin my life even from an inescapable realm, Mother?_ I thought. As I followed the sight of Lucifer's back vanishing beyond the door, I found Raphael staring at me, still at his position where Lucifer had pushed him against the wall. His bronze irises seemed to accuse me of causing this. Even when I'd stopped Lucifer from attacking him, it seemed his cynicism always found a target in me.

"Is that what you call 'handling it'?" he derided.

"Don't you start, Raph," Gabe warned.

"Just putting it out there," he raised his arms in surrender, before taking leave himself.

"I'm alright," I reassured the two of them.

"How could he do this? I don't understand," Michael worried.

"This isn't him, Mike. It's the Mark," I explained. "Go easy on him."

"Easy? He hurt you, Sophie," Michael frowned. "This is inexcusable. I might have to beat some sense into him."

"Don't," I pleaded, grabbing his arm. "Please. Just… just give him a chance. I'll talk to him."

He hesitated. He fidgeted uncomfortably, shoulders weighing with the burden of what happened. "Fine," he relented. "He'd better apologise to you."

"He will." When it was just Gabriel and me left, I couldn't help but dig my head into his shoulder and weep. Gabe said nothing. He just held me as I shed my heart in tears.

When I found Lucifer again, my cheeks were dry. He was waiting for me at my house. I passed by him silently into the study, setting things down on my table. Guilt was just radiating from him in waves. A strong need to hold him shook my veins, but a conversation was necessary first.

"Sophie, I'm sorry," his voice quavered. I had my back to him. My palms pressed down on the table, holding onto it like I would tumble without this firm foundation.

I released a shaky breath. "I know," I said slowly.

"I never meant to- I shouldn't have hit you," he stammered. I felt his coldness approaching as he stepped closer. "It was Raphael I meant to-"

"Your brothers would not forgive you as easily as I," I cut him off, turning around to face him. "It's better this way."

"No," he shook his head. "Don't say that."

His finger paused in front my cheek, asking for permission. "It's nothing," I insisted in vain.

He turned my head slowly to inspect the damage. I heard a regretful exhale. "I don't deserve your forgiveness," he sighed. I felt him healing me. The pain faded away soon enough.

"I know you didn't mean it, Lucifer."

"That doesn't excuse this," he said. "I hate myself for this."

We regarded each other silently as I caressed his cheek with a hand. His eyes glistened with emotion. "That won't solve anything. This isn't you. It's the Mark, isn't it? It's affecting you," I speculated. When he hesitated, I added, "You have to tell me. So that I can help you."

He nodded. I pulled him into a hug. With my arms around his neck and his around my waist, all was forgiven.

* * *

Lucifer agreed to stay with me for a while longer. It made me nervous to see him so quiet. He'd sit at the same spot for hours at a time, doing nothing but ruminating. At least he stayed in my sights, where I could keep an eye on him. On my usual rounds around the forest, I'd try to get him to follow me, but he often preferred staying indoors. It was like after months of being highly energetic, he'd just crashed. When he talked to me, he told me about the strange feelings he'd been having. He talked of uncontrollable anger, how sometimes he just wasn't sure he could calm down. How his mind favoured harm and damage, seeing it as the only respite. He said he wanted to keep still but found it increasingly difficult to do so.

I thought it best to begin with a non-violent solution. I led him to one of my favourite planets. It had a shoreline that extended for miles with pink crystals for sand. The skies were violet, a mild swathe on which its three moons lined up vertically in different phases. The waves were gentle and made a regular comforting noise. There we sat opposite each other, breathing in the fresh phosphoric air, while I held his hands. I taught him to meditate as I tried to look into his mind. He relaxed, as did I. I extended a thread of concentration into his mind, like knocking on a door. He let me in. Trust was sacred between us so this was simple.

I saw – or felt, rather – a tingling in the back of his mind. I went to explore it and it seemed to explode, enveloping me in a dark embrace. This was familiar. The dark cloud. I recognised like the back of my own palm. It lulled me in with its ebbing and flowing and without realising it, I slipped into a dream of my own making. There were my early memories – showing me the way of destruction. The annihilation of life, matter and existence. These were horrible impressions to my rational mind, but in the stream of consciousness I received, they were accompanied by relief. Almost like a reward. This was what the Mark craved – everything that I was supposed to be, and would have been, were it not for God's intervention.

We opened our eyes. Our faces seemed to convey contradicting expressions. While I was positively disturbed, Lucifer seemed elated. He said that it helped. Upon hearing that, any misgivings I had instantly disappeared. That was all I wanted.

We continued this for a while. Lucifer said he was getting better, but the visions I saw did not. They seemed to be getting stronger and more violent, like a parasite evolving more aggressively in response to its host's immune system. I didn't understand. Why was he lying? Perhaps I was reading too much into this. He seemed to be behaving normally, even returning to his normal self. So I kept these doubts to myself. But this proved to be disastrous. One day, my whole world turned upside-down.

I'd been gone to make my usual rounds but I remembered that I wanted to check on something I had noted down on my last trip. I was returning to the house to check my records when I saw it. Lucifer was leaving the house, heading off in some unknown direction. _Where was he going?_ I'd never seen him leave the house before and he told me that he never did anyway. So I followed him, keeping my distance. He walked with purpose like he'd done this a hundred times before. I weaved through the trees and the dense undergrowth to keep cover.

I let out a sigh of relief when I saw where he'd stopped. It was a shrine placed in the opening of the forest. It was a very simple structure, with four white pillars and a single wall that had a variety of Enochian sigils engraved in it. It was often said that such places were a direct line to God, where one could spend time in devotion and be certain that prayers were heard. Or so we believed. If all Lucifer wanted to do was pray, I couldn't have been more soothed. Then he started talking.

"I keep telling you," he spoke at the wall. I moved as close as I dared to hear his voice, which was slightly muffled by the distance. "This is getting dangerous. I don't know why you're putting me through this. More importantly, why are you putting _her_ through this?" He seemed to be flustered. Angry, even. "All I want is answers. I want to talk, Father. Couldn't you spare a single moment for me?" He waited. "Are you so bothered by what I've become that you despise seeing me?" He huffed, looking skyward as if God should descend from the clouds. His shoulders heaved and his breaths grew deeper. "What do I have to do to get your attention, huh?" he yelled into the air. "Start a war?" He continued with a sombre tone. "I'm kidding, obviously. I'll bet those apes of yours can't come up with a decent joke." He waited around a while longer, sitting on the steps to the shrine.

The air was still. It pained me to see him like this. He seemed so visibly upset with those eyebrows creased so deeply and his jaw clenched so tight. It seemed so unlike of the Lucifer that I'd grown up with yet this was the everyday reality that I had to get used to. My love didn't decrease any less. It only throbbed more, aching to put an end to this. My woes got pushed to the back of my mind as I spotted movement. It was a fire-cat, named for its flaming coat colour that resembled the dance of fire. It was as big as what one might call a cheetah was on earth. The creature sauntered into the scene, somewhat curiously, as it noticed Lucifer. Its gait shifted between investigative pauses and cautious steps taken towards him. I watched as it nudged its snout against his leg. It probably just wanted to be petted. Lucifer was always good with cats.

Lucifer's fist clenched and knocked the fire-cat away a few feet. I gasped and flinched, taken by shock at the sudden movement. My eyes froze on the sight of the poor creature, which was now whimpering in pain and lying on its side on the grass. Tears stung my eyes as I heard its cries of pain. Maybe he didn't mean it, just like he didn't mean to hit me the last time. Maybe this was an accident. He would do what was needed to heal the creature, I thought. But as I watched, he stood up and strode toward it in a rather self-assured manner, and held its neck in a lock between his palms. In a swift twist of the wrist, he snapped its neck.

A shiver coursed through me. I'd never seen him so… cold. I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that God might at least hear me and intervene. Lucifer stormed towards the shrine and swung a full-bodied punch at a pillar, knocking away some rocky fragments. I flinched again. Not only did he kill an innocent creature, but he also desecrated a sacred shrine. This was not good at all.

* * *

 ** _Phase Three_**

Typically, I would have brought this up in conversation. But I could already tell how it would go. He'd apologise to me. I'd tell him to talk about what led him to do such a thing. He'd explain the painful details. I'd reassure him of my support and look for a solution. And the cycle would repeat. No, this needed greater intervention. Divine intervention. One day, I gave Lucifer a brew to calm his nerves and marched off to Imperium to seek God's advice. I didn't care about whether entering His office without being summoned was rude. I needed His guidance now more than ever. But He was nowhere to be found. Instead, I came face to face with the secretary – Metatron. The snarky moron of an angel refused to tell me anything except that God was busy and that if it was my job to take care of Lucifer then I should try harder. The attitude on this one! "God doesn't want to hear from anyone in this busy period of time," he'd said. Getting impatient, I left, hoping that God would hear my prayers and answer them soon, despite what this derisive halfwit had to say.

What was I supposed to do when the person I loved became unrecognisable right before my eyes? Every day Lucifer seemed more distant, like a star in the sky I just couldn't reach no matter how fast I flew towards it. His brothers used to visit once in a while to check up on the both of us but I could tell that it began to become taxing on them as well. Every time they looked into his eyes, the brother they once knew faded away a little more. I didn't tell anyone what I'd seen because I didn't want Lucifer to face their judgment. Instead, it became my sole burden to carry. It was what I was willing to do. Even after everything, I firmly held onto the belief that he was getting better. Someone had to.

My optimism seemed to offend the universe.

One day, I'd come back from my rounds only to find Lucifer missing. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. I didn't know what I would find. I searched all day for him and finally I encountered a tree in a deep forest with a fractured bark. The fracture was evidently from a forceful strike. _Oh no._ By this point I didn't know _who_ to expect either. I just hoped to God that irreparable damage hadn't been done. Of course, I had to be wrong on that as well. As I picked up on his trail and followed it, I heard the distinct noises of armed struggle. I rushed to the scene and what I found truly disturbed me. An angel blade lay on the floor as Lucifer held down a lone patrolling angel and was pummelling him. I yelled his name.

"Lucifer!"

His hand paused mid-air and his face turned to me. The sheer lust for aggression I saw in his eyes truly shocked me. His eyes were so wide that they were the very picture of madness. I went near him and he stood. I glared at him, expecting an explanation, while the angel lay cowering on the ground, clearly traumatised by what he had been through.

In a gruff voice, he said, "I… I couldn't help myself… This seemed like the only way…"

"So you would _hunt_ an _angel_?" I couldn't hide my exasperation. "I thought we were making progress. Was what we were already doing insufficient? Am I insufficient?"

He shook his head apologetically. "No, it's not like that. This pain… you don't understand how much it's affecting me. All I ever want to do kill and this aggression is consuming me!" His dug his fingers into his hair and pulled them out, exasperation causing them to stiffen. I was appalled by his confession. That was… a very crude way of putting it. More than anything, I was disappointed with myself. I was too encouraged by the small victories of my methods that I didn't see where they failed. Instead of becoming less aggressive, he only became better at directing it. At this point I just felt tired. It seemed like I'd tried everything and nothing worked. I was at a loss and I was even less sure of my ability to handle this than when I started.

"We can talk about this. Just… just leave the angels alone. We can't risk you getting caught like this," I suggested. At this point, my greatest worry was that word of this would get around and people would try to hurt him. I didn't realise it then, but this only numbed me further to the things he did. Frankly, I didn't care anymore about anyone else.

Lucifer sighed, a semblance of sanity returning to him. "Alright. But what do we do with this one?" We looked at the angel. I didn't even know his name. By now he was getting up on his feet and clearly terrified by our conversation. He turned around to take off, but I reacted instinctively and imploded him. Surprised by my own reaction, I flinched.

"I guess that takes care of that," I said to Lucifer. Having cleared the evidence, we both returned home. I was surprised by my own reaction to the situation. I had just killed someone. I knew I was capable – I am one of the most powerful beings in Heaven. But I had never needed to take a life before. This kind of thing was supposed to be wrong but I did what I did out of necessity, to protect Lucifer. That made it alright, right, God? I had never prayed more than on the trip back home. I just wished He would show up sometime.

He plopped onto the couch while I stood, pacing before him. "Why did you run away like that?" I asked sternly. It was more out of concern than fury because all I wanted was for him to be forward with me about whether what we were doing was working or not. Clearly, it wasn't but I wish he'd confided in me instead of going behind my back like this.

"I couldn't just say 'Honey, I'm going to find someone to kill' now, could I?" he snapped.

"You could've waited for me. We could have dealt with it together!"

"I just had the impulse and I couldn't hold it off!" Realising that his tone was harsh, he eased up a bit. He sighed. "Look, it's just getting worse and… and I was scared that if you were the first thing I saw when the impulse flared up that I…" he paused. "I just didn't want to hurt you, okay? I don't know if I can control myself, Sophia. I need to _rip_ out the life of something or I feel agitated." He sounded just as tired as I was. His head sunk as he supported it solely with his palms. "I can't be like this anymore. I know it's wrong but I can't help it. Does this… does this make me bad?"

"Don't think like that," I spat out. "You're not a bad person, Lucifer. This is the Mark, not you. You aren't responsible for what it's doing to you."

He huffed sardonically. "Please, Sophie, you don't have to pretend that you're okay with all of this. That- that you aren't freaked out by this." He ran a hand down his face and rested it on his chin as he leant forward in thought, staring at the floor. "What if I can't fight it? What if this is just what I become? You should get away from me before I have the chance to hurt you."

"I'm not leaving you!" I yelled. How could he ever think that I would abandon him, no matter the risk to myself? Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought I was losing hope, but seeing him say this put me in despair. One of us had to have hope and if it wasn't me, it had to be him. And then I realised, he never had hope to begin with. He was the one constantly faced with his own failures and inability to resist the Mark. I was supposed to have hope for the both of us but I let him down with my own short-sightedness. "This is all my fault. I couldn't do what you needed me to do and now it's just gotten worse."

"You'll make me feel worse if you start blaming yourself for this," he let out a short, wry laugh. An extended silence filled the distance between us. "I tried to call Father, you know. But He doesn't want to show."

"I know." He looked up at me, studying my expression. "I tried too. He's probably doing something important."

"Yeah but… we're at the end of the line here. We need Him. What else will we do?" I could see that he was trying so hard to keep it together. If there was any bit of strength I had left to deal with the Mark, I would use it to pull one last string.

"We'll try again. Maybe He doesn't get how bad it's becoming. Let's pray again. Together, this time." I knelt in front of him. He nodded, hope returning to his eyes again. We held hands and stayed in silence for a moment.

"Father, if you're there, it's me," Lucifer began, closing his eyes. "I know you asked Sophie to help me but… but it's getting bad. I don't think there's anything we can do about it. We could really use your help."

We waited. No answer. God used to love talking to His son. What happened to that? Was it me? Was He disappointed with my inability to do what He asked? In this moment of hopelessness, that was the first thing that came to mind. That I had somehow ruined things because of some sin I'd committed. "I seek forgiveness, God, if I've done anything to upset you," I said. With every word I poured from my heart, guilt tugged at my eyes. "I'm sorry if I didn't live up to your expectations and I couldn't fulfil this obligation which you gave me. Punish me if you will, but please come. Your son needs you." I couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

"Sophie…" Lucifer used a thumb to wipe away the tears from my cheeks.

I shook my head, refusing his loving gesture. "I don't see any other reason as to why He's not here. It's just my luck, isn't it?"

"Stop it!" he pulled me towards him, pressing my head against him. Overcome with emotion, I sobbed into his chest as he caressed my head and back with his arms. "Look at what it's come to, Father! Your absence is offensive!"

"M-Maybe it's us. Maybe He found out about us being together and disapproves of our union. Maybe we made Him angry," I speculated, still a weeping mess in his arms.

"This isn't fair, Sophia. He's the one who put us together like this. From the moment He chose me to bind you to this world. If He doesn't want to answer us, He's just decided that this isn't important," Lucifer concluded, rage evident in his voice. That day, a rift formed between us and God, one that could never be repaired. We were at our most desperate period of time and desperation could bring out bitterness in even saints. More importantly, that day, we realised that we only had each other to rely on. Tough times can bring people together and the Mark… it was like a glue that bound us.

 ** _Moments later…_**

It was at this point that I really realised what I was capable of. My mind was swimming, tired of all the disappointment and failure. Out of this pit of despair arose the conviction of what I was willing to do. I began to fully understand the depth of my need to fix this problem. It wasn't just some kind of ailment that affected my beloved; it was the wrath of my Mother, come to haunt me in another form, in another life where I'd managed to find happiness. If at least in spite of her, I could find a way. From this spite came my next bright idea.

"I was afraid that it would come to this but…" I pulled away from his chest and rested my forehead against his. "I just thought of something, and it sounds crazy. But it might work. I was thinking about how what you're going through comes from the Mark, and the Mark is channelling The Darkness into you. From what you are telling me, you only seem to be relieved from fulfilling the inclinations of The Darkness. And here's the crazy part." I paused, giving myself time to put together my thoughts coherently. "I still bear the Darkness I was forged out of. I could try… giving you my essence in doses. It might satisfy the Mark. What do you think?"

Lucifer spoke, in a soft voice, "Are you sure? It will be painful for you, and don't Dark and Light poison each other?"

"What other choice do we have? Angel hunting? We have to give it a try at least. A small dose will not do irreparable damage." I took my archangel blade and cut myself at the neck, making a small incision. I felt a sharp sting. Lucifer's eyes fixated on the incision and I could sense his effort to control his instinctive reaction. So this was triggering the Mark somehow. It could work.

"I can't do this. Not to you," he implored. I took his hand and placed his palm on my neck such that his thumb could hold up my jaw and expose the incision.

"I _want_ this for you," I said, trying to convince him. "Will you do this thing for me?"

Unable to hold himself back, his lips sunk into my neck, lustfully drinking my essence. As I held his head to my neck and his other hand slid to my waist, I leaned back and we were both laying against other on the floor, with him on top of me in a passionate embrace. As the essence flowed, pain seared from the cut and I wanted to groan out loud in agony but I gritted my teeth instead. Knowing that this could help him made me endure it and to a certain extent, even enjoy it. Our bodies rocked together as his mouth shifted position to get a better angle and I contorted in response to make way for him. His hand traced my forearm, finding my fingers and lacing his with them. Eventually he pulled away and lay next to me. I turned, leaning on him with my head on his shoulder. "Do you feel better now?" I asked. He stared at the ceiling, saying nothing. His eyes seemed to search the wooden floorboards above for an answer.

"Surprisingly, yes," he panted a reply, kissing my forehead.

* * *

There was remarkable improvement in the following weeks. This time, it was real improvement. Lucifer returned to work again and he was as he always had been, which came as a relief to Michael. I came to visit him like I did quite regularly these days. The reason was simple.

Our eyes met as I locked the door to Lucifer's office. His hands slid around my waist as he held me against the door and neared me. My fingers squeezed around his biceps, barely making a dent in them. I couldn't help but smile at our proximity and neither could he. This was as normal as normal got for us. The sight of his dimples and lips drove me so mad sometimes that I felt like I was losing my mind to him. And I had always been okay with that.

He bent down, lifting me up by the waist as our lips sealed emphatically. We were taken by the moment, as always. He carried me over to a couch and lay me down, now making his way down my neck. When we'd both had enough, he brought out a short knife of his. It was time. I pulled down a sleeve of my dress and he cut me right below my collarbone, a spot which would typically be obscured by my dress. He'd gotten to task so quickly that I barely felt the pain before his contact, which might have been the intention. His hands cradled the arch of my back while I held him to me, combing through his amber hair. This had become a regular thing. Our only working solution had a short half-life, so we had no choice but to do it again and again.

I counted the seconds. He passed the threshold of the first time again. I tried to nudge him away but he only sucked harder. I sharply inhaled as my own limits of pain were breached. My head grew light. Dark spots appeared in my vision. "Slower, darling," I urged as I tried to push him away. But he was far too gone to be returned. He grabbed my arms and held them behind me. Helplessly, I waited for him to finish and leave me a drained heap on the couch. As unsettled as I was, I said nothing. If this was truly helping him become himself again, I didn't want to jeopardise it. Anyway, this kind of force wasn't anything I wasn't used to from him.

Still, I mulled over the experience by myself in a forest one day, contemplating whether this was truly acceptable. That was when I felt a presence near me. I spun around, armed with my archangel blade, when I saw an unfamiliar figure. He was cloaked in black and from what I could see, his face was emaciated and grim. Clouds of black smoke poured from his sleeves and under his robes. His thin fingers held onto a scythe and his black eyes had silver irises. A dark and ancient energy resonated about him.

"We need to talk," his deep voice resounded.

"Who… who are you?" I inquired. "I've never seen you before."

"I'm not fond of popularity," the figure spoke in a sort of cordial manner that I'd only ever heard from God or Amara. "I came to warn you. What you are doing to Lucifer is not sustainable."

"How do you know about that?" I demanded, tightening my grip on my archangel blade.

"Calm down, child. I am not here to hurt you. Nor will you be able to hurt me. I cannot be killed." Admittedly, I was a little terrified by his appearance. But he seemed friendly enough that I wasn't completely defensive.

"What is your interest in all of this?" I dared ask, hoping that scythe would stay where it was.

"Oh, don't take me wrongly. I am a mere observer of things. I couldn't care less for God's creations," he elaborated. "But what you are doing to Lucifer, it's poisoning him. You are feeding the Mark and weakening his hold on it. Now, I don't care for whether God or Amara gets the upper hand, but God should have taken my advice. He hasn't, and so did a great disservice to the order of things," he grumbled. He sighed a dark, misty cloud. " _You_ should be helping Lucifer maintain control. Instead you are only helping him give in to it more!"

I gulped at his tirade. "Wait," I hesitated. "What advice?"

He looked at me with pause. "Who do you think gave God the idea of a truce between Him and Amara?" I tilted my head in confusion. He rolled his eyes. "Never gives me any credit, does He? I am _Death_. I am old enough to remember what it was like with just God and Amara, before the universe began. God and I correspond on occasion, although I avoid taking sides in their petty familial rivalry. I was the first one God talked to about rescuing you. I must say, I disagreed with Him about it at first, but now I see that you have immense potential."

Now it all made sense. Why the escape was so easy, why the truce idea seemed to come out of nowhere, everything. But if what he was saying about Lucifer was true, how could I then help him? I asked Death, and he said, "You don't win this by trying every remedy in the book. It's a battle of will and strength, not wit. You may not understand this fully now, but you have to keep trying. Do not expect that nothing will go wrong on the way. Things are meant to go wrong. Just don't feed your damn essence to him."

I felt nothing. Absolutely no affect. Was this all that this _ancient_ being had to offer me? "Is there any actual advice you have to offer that isn't _cryptic_?" I did not hold back my bitterness.

Death's eyes narrowed. "I've intervened enough," he declared. "Maybe you will take me seriously when I come to reap Lucifer's life."

My eyes widened at the thought. "No, wait," I bid him. "I'm… sorry. Tell me more."

"Your essence feeds the Mark. The more you give him, the stronger Amara gets. And when She gets strong enough… your lover will not stand a chance," he explained patiently. "This is all I can offer."

Before I could press him on anything, dark, wispy smoke enveloped his thin figure and converged. When the smoke cleared, he was nowhere to be found.

My mind was heavy as I returned home. What have I done to him? I thought I was helping him but I've been… killing him. Slowly. I had to stop. Immediately. When I arrived, I found Lucifer studying my bookshelf, browsing the titles. He rushed to greet me as I entered. "I've been waiting for you," he said. _That's what I was afraid of,_ I thought. Without pause, he lifted me and sat me on the table and tilted my neck to expose my flesh.

Before he could take out his sharp blade, I lay my hands on his chest. "Not now, Lucifer."

I tried to get off the table and on my feet, but he pushed me back. "What do you mean, 'not now'? I _need_ you, Sophia."

"I mean, this is not a good idea. We can't keep doing this," I asserted, somewhat meekly.

His grip on my arm tightened uncomfortably. "Why not?" he questioned, his eyebrows creasing ever so slightly.

I sensed his tension and tried to be as patient as I could. I wanted to make him understand. "Because it's hurting you. This isn't good for you."

"What are you talking about? I feel great," he rebutted. The temporary effects were relief from the Mark's influence, but in the long term it could prove disastrous.

"I know, but I can't let you do this anymore. This could actually be poisoning you and compromising the integrity of the Mark," I explained.

"This was _your_ idea, Sophia. And it's working out great for me. I thought you said _you_ wanted this?" A tinge of accusation was present in his tone, like a sign of his withering control over the Mark. Without this temporary fix, he seemed to be reverting back to his old ways. This was a lot worse than I'd imagined.

"I did, and now I don't. Can we just leave it at that?" I tried to get away again, but Lucifer grabbed me forcefully. He dug into my neck again, despite my struggles to push him away. He sunk his teeth into my neck and tore open the flesh, exposing a large gash. I yelled in pain, but he ignored me. He sucked at my essence with so much vigour that I felt myself going weak. My body hurt where his arms had seized me. "…Lucifer…" I whispered in agony. In a last ditch attempt to break away, I pushed my arms against his relatively larger form, albeit weakly. He pulled away, suddenly sobered by my meek cry. I held one hand to my injured neck. The cut was deep. I didn't even recognise the archangel in front of me.

"Sophia, I-" he started.

"I have failed you, Lucifer. Forgive me," I uttered, dashing to the rooftop. I needed to clear my head.

There I focussed on healing myself. It was difficult to heal wounds when they were inflicted by someone as powerful as an archangel, especially when there was significant loss of essence. The latter made me weak and I was beginning to feel light-headed so I took a seat and stared into the horizon, slowly gathering my strength.

Lucifer came to join me, his expression apologetic. He sat next to me and placed his hand on me. I flinched, clearly still unnerved by the whole experience. I looked away.

"This isn't your fault," he said with a tear-choked voice. There was a brief silence. "I knew that you would get hurt somehow," he nodded to himself. "And I still stayed, like some kind of _idiot_ because I was afraid. I should have left you alone when I had the chance. I'm… I'm sorry."

"I would never leave you to suffer alone. Not even at the cost to myself," I replied with an equally weakened tone. "I just wish I had seen this coming."

He knelt before me to inspect the wound. He helped me heal it, albeit partially. The pain went away. Before the burden of decision-making could set on me, I hugged him, and we both leaned against each other, observing the darkening of the skies and the rise of the moon. We remained this way, wordlessly, until sunrise.

Lucifer was the first to get up. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm tired of fighting this and losing every time. It is clear to me now that there is only one way this ends. I'm going to do what I need to do," he replied. I saw the Mark beginning to glow, demanding his attention.

"Whatever you're going to do, I can't let you. Please don't go," I begged. He managed a serene smile at that.

"I'll try not to get caught." With a sly wink he flew away. I lay down on the roof, staring at the stars. I didn't know what to expect. Perhaps it was better this way. A few hours later, I received a message from God, saying that He had news. It was about time He talked to us at all, and then the thought dawned on me that if this truly was about The Mark, I could expect a lot of disapproval from Him. _What did you do, Lucifer?_ I wondered. But then I reasoned that a message concerning Lucifer wouldn't sound this… calm if it was bad news. With conflicting expectations, I flew to God's office.


	8. The Seeds of Revolution

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 8: The Seeds of Revolution**

I observed the demeanour of the archangels. Michael and Raphael were engaged in a discussion about promoting certain lower angels and Gabriel appeared bored, popping a mango in an out of existence. _He does love his sweet fruits._ So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I loosened my shoulders and relaxed into my seat. Finally, God showed up. I stared at Him cautiously, looking for some kind of acknowledgement of how we'd tried to communicate with Him and how He'd ignored us. Instead, He simply inquired as to Lucifer's whereabouts, and I said, "I don't know". It was the truth.

God eyed me with suspicion. "This news can't wait. I will find him later myself," God said. _Uh oh. Should I be worried? Of course I should._ Who knows what God would find? Not the son He'd left me with, that's for sure. "Now to the matter of business. I have good news. The Garden of Eden is no longer vacant. With some fine-tuning of the evolutionary process, the Homo Sapiens have succeeded." _That was what you were doing this whole time?_ "As an infant terrestrial species, they have shown remarkable potential to be great. They are, as I'd wished, in our image." _Without the fruit of Knowledge, I somehow doubt that, but whatever._ My own bitterness began to surprise me.

The other archangels rejoiced at this news and congratulated Him. I feigned concern for the news. All of this simple speak was driving me up the wall, considering that worry for Lucifer continued to gnaw at me. God snapped me out of my thoughts by bringing up the ultimatum He had designed in my presence.

"These _humans_ will need to kept safe in the Garden of Eden, and they must be subject to a test of faith. They may be allowed to do whatever they wish, except eat from the Tree of Knowledge. It is your job, and the angels' job to protect them from temptation and other evils. They are ours to take care of." The archangels nodded in acceptance. _Okay, that's a bit too much fanfare for primitive creatures._

When the meeting adjourned, the other archangels left while I remained seated. God didn't react to this and I suppose He must have expected it. Surprisingly, He began the conversation. "Sophia, I have reason to believe that you and Lucifer are committing sin." I think it was quite telling that I was asking myself which of the activities He was talking about. Was it the courtship, the angel murders or the 'feeding' sessions? But how could He have known? We went through so much pains to keep them all secret. I decided that the best response was to feign ignorance and find out what He knew.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I responded, crossing my arms.

His gaze bore into mine and it began to frighten me. There was a tension to his demeanour that I hadn't noticed before and it only became more evident. "Sophia, I have received word that some angels are missing. This following the disappearance of a lone angel many days ago. A witness tells me that they saw someone imploding an angel in the forest. They identified you. Tell me what I should make of this." I looked at Him with shock. _Who could it have been?_ "If this is true, and I have reason to believe it is, the both of you are committing treason. Do you know how serious that is?" I was frozen in my place. What was I to say to that? I had imagined this conversation a lot differently, with me spilling my troubles and Him listening, but now it just seemed like He was taking jabs at me. "Don't think I didn't notice your little private sessions with Lucifer either. First you kill my angels, then you poison my son. You really take after your mother." Was that bitterness I sensed? But this could all be some kind of test. Work me up, see if I snap. See if I'm loyal or something like that. But it really hurt me to think that God would talk to me this way, regardless of whatever crime I had committed.

"You can't be saying that this is _my_ fault? I did my best to help Lucifer. I really did!" I defended myself.

"Your best? I didn't say anything because I thought your… arrangement would be temporary but it only seems to have gotten out of hand." There was disappointment in his voice, on top of his anger. His eyes roved down to my neck, which I'd covered with a shawl. I adjusted the cloth, pulling it higher over the wound from last night.

Now I was getting impatient. How dare He suggest that I wasn't doing enough? The spirit of Lucifer's past boldness seemed to possess me as I replied, "I don't see why you're complaining. I've done nothing _but_ help Lucifer. I may have failed along the way but at least _I was there_. Where were you when I prayed for guidance? When Lucifer and I begged you to come to us in our time of need? Unlike you, Uncle, I've actually been concerned about your son." I held my breath. What I said was very disrespectful, but it was the ugly truth and I wouldn't have any more of his talk about my role in all of this.

By now, He was seething. I really pushed His buttons on that one. "I can't come every time someone prays, Sophia. That's not how it works. You're supposed to find solutions to your own problems. That's why I gave you this duty. I trusted you to be able to find a solution because you've always been good at finding solutions."

"All this speak of finding solutions is at the expense of your son's sanity. The least you could have done is left us with a cure," I shot back.

"There is no cure! Don't you get it? It's a curse. If Lucifer can't control the Mark…" God paused. "I will have to take more _drastic_ measures. It seems my trust in him was gravely misplaced." My heart sank. He frowned, as though this was the biggest let-down of His life. "So tell me, what am I going to find him doing right now?"

"Maybe you should ask him yourself." It seemed clear to me now that some things were inevitable. Foremost among them was Lucifer's fading grip on morality. If some rules had to be given up for his hold on the Mark to remain, I found it to be a fair trade-off. I'd felt pushed to the point of not caring anymore. I know what mattered to me and what mattered to God. It was at this moment that the lines became clear to me. The game was rigged against us and we were being punished for something we could not avoid. With these heavy thoughts, I found myself being teleported with God to Lucifer's location.

* * *

We came upon a rocky plain surrounded by mountain peaks. There we found Lucifer, blade in his arm and the Mark glowing. Surrounding him were eight dead angels. I was afraid it would come to this. Lucifer turned to us slowly, his face expressionless. It was almost… tranquil, like he'd finally achieved peace. "What have you done?" God yelled. With a swipe of the hand, God put together the angels. The eight of them looked terrified and confused. God told them to return to the citadel and wait in His office. They obliged. Now it was just the three of us. "What is the meaning of all this, son?" He asked.

Lucifer looked at his father with a serene smile, and calmly replied, "I finally realised what I needed to do. And it wasn't just to keep this Mark from somehow imploding me or making me insane. I just needed to feed it."

God let out a heavy breath. "You were supposed to be strong. You were supposed to control the Mark, not let it control you," He proclaimed. "And now, look at what you've done. You've slain your own brothers and sisters in cold blood."

"A small price… for the peace I must keep," Lucifer shrugged. "Wouldn't you agree, Father?" I saw his strange confidence and it made me understand the true solution, which he'd come to figure out all by himself. Under the naked sun, he seemed as strong as I'd always known him to be. Not lacking it, as what Uncle suggested. I felt our connection grow stronger.

"You've lost your mind," God stated plainly.

"And you? Am I supposed to think your obsession with hominids isn't some symptom of madness as well?" he nonchalantly mocked.

"Careful, boy," God warned.

"Isn't that why you're here? They must have done something to please you. Why else would you show your face again…" he grumbled. "Let me guess… they've figured out that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line," he sneered. "Bravo, how brilliant of them."

God simply watched as Lucifer went on. It must have been His incredible patience. But even I knew that Lucifer was pushing it. He always did. "If you do something like this again, I _will_ keep you under lockup. Think about what you've done," God ordered.

"Uncle," I interjected. "You can't punish him for what the Mark is doing to him. This isn't right," I pleaded.

God narrowed His eyes at me. "The Mark only reveals who you really are. And who Lucifer really is… is a danger to everyone around him," He declared. "Today, it will be the angels. Tomorrow, it will be _you_ and his brothers. I can't let that happen. I want to give the both of you another chance but only _he_ can be accountable for his actions."

Lucifer remained quiet, obviously disappointed at his Father's tirade.

I thought about what God said. What if He was right? There could be no cure, or alternate way of dealing with something so important as the Mark other than destruction of Light, which seemed to manifest in violence and aggression. If He was right, I saw no other way of getting around the Mark other than such actions as killing a few angels every now and then. It was a small sacrifice for a greater good, to balance the forces of Light and Darkness.

With that, God left. I rushed over and Lucifer sheathed his blade to receive me in his arms. "Are you alright?" I breathed a question.

"Better than ever," he smiled in relief as we gazed longingly at each other. "Except for… that, of course."

I kissed his lips wholeheartedly. Never had I felt so safe in his arms. "God questioned my loyalty," I told him, tears stinging my eyes. I related to him an account of the way He questioned me so accusatively, as if convinced I was evil. "I think I messed up. I shouldn't have been so forthright."

"No, no. You did the right thing," Lucifer asserted. "No one has the right to speak about you that way, you hear me? You're the best thing that's ever happened to this universe."

"Be serious," I sniffled and wiped away a tear.

"I am," he huffed, amused. Then he exhaled, returning to seriousness. "I need to know something, alright?" I glanced at him. That piqued my curiosity. "Are you… are you sure you still want to… be with me?"

I gaped at him. "What would lead you to ask such a thing?" I smacked his forearm.

"Okay! Okay…" he defensively seized my hands. I calmed down and he released them. "It's just that… I understand if all of this…" he gestured to the shed angel grace on the ground. "… appals you. I just don't want you to get hurt or do anything you don't want to." I smacked his forearm again. "Ow!"

"Oh, you think you're protecting me like I'm some damsel in distress," I mocked with narrowed eyes. "Let me make something clear, Morningstar. I have as little choice in loving you as you have in controlling the Mark. There won't be enough dead angels to make me leave you!"

He shrunk back from my raised voice. I huffed angrily and turned away. My arms were folded as I wondered how my lover could be so daft sometimes. Soon enough, I felt his arms encircle me and pull me closer. There was an attempt at an apology with nothing but kisses.

* * *

God had declared a state of emergency in Heaven and ordered the angels to be wary of Lucifer's presence. The angels were clearly alarmed by this. _What could have turned God against His most beloved son?_ I heard them discuss. Lucifer was not allowed to go to areas of importance like the armoury, the garrisons and most importantly, the Garden of Eden. God didn't want Lucifer messing with His imperfect apes. Normally, I wouldn't care about the humans and the Garden, but what forced my concern was the fact that God was putting in so much effort and love into elevating the humans, yet they were supposed to resist Knowledge, the highest of all pleasures and privileges. Now all my suppressed feelings about the Tree surfaced. Call it my opinion, but knowledge is the one thing that makes consciousness worthwhile. A wolf or a fish could never experience true pleasure or even know that such distinctions in quality of experience exist, so its life is not "worthwhile" in the sense of its own subjective experience.

Of course, I did value such creatures for other reasons, mainly because they are the product of a brilliantly-engineered natural system and were so pure in their drives. But I'm getting distracted. Humans were different. They had just developed a more complex level of awareness. Compounded with intelligence, the next logical step would be the capacity to know. I just found it contradictory of God to pose such an ultimatum to these humans contrary to what their natural instincts would drive them to do, unless he was making some sort of statement that these humans are pure and would be tainted by the effects of knowledge. He did tell me once that Knowledge was a dangerous tool. Did that make Knowledge evil? I couldn't tell. I just couldn't accept this whole _Humans-are-our-family-too_ with them being in such ignorance. I felt that it insulted our image to say that they are one of us without any real Knowledge.

And were they really so important that Lucifer should not be allowed in their vicinity? That could only mean that He cared more about these primates than us. I felt a sick feeling brew in my abdomen at the mere thought of that.

The angels heard the news of the incident and grew wary in Lucifer's presence. The angels were no longer simply afraid of Lucifer, but they also saw him as an abomination for violating God's world. The tide of angel opinion turned on Lucifer and it was getting on my nerves. None of them _knew_ what was going on yet they harboured such animosity towards Lucifer. Even the archangels had given up on him. They ceased asking me how Lucifer was, and avoided the topic of their miscreant brother completely in conversations, like they were ashamed of him. All it took was news of this one incident for them to look at their own brother in a different way. Did no one care about giving him the benefit of the doubt? I hated being the one who had to hear all these vile things about someone I loved and feeling like I was the only one who saw what was wrong.

Needless to say, Lucifer was hurt by his Father's words and actions. For many days Lucifer remained distant. I didn't bother him because I could sense that he needed some time to reflect and so did I.

It was at a time like this when we found our interests to be perfectly aligned.

"I can't stand it anymore, Sophie," he said one day, while I was in my study. "I can't stand how much everyone is just gushing over these… mud monkeys. It's driving me up the wall."

I looked at him from where I was seated, plant specimen in my hands. Laying my things on the table, I went over to where he was standing by the door. "I don't like it either, but it's not like our opinions mean anything," I lamented.

His gaze hardened. "Then we'll make them matter," he vowed. I sensed something in his voice, like he'd been harbouring a thought and now was the time to say it out loud.

"What do you mean?" I probed.

"I mean… we have to get His attention," he spoke with a low voice as if he was worried someone might be listening. "Make Him hear us."

I worried for him. "Lucifer, you heard what He said. If you did anything He deemed wrong, He's going to lock you up."

"Right," he remained sceptical. "Like He would do that to me. I'm His _son_. Besides, I carry the sacred Mark that protects all of us. You think people would be silent if He did that?"

"Are you really going to take the chance?" I whispered pointedly.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Yes," he smiled.

I stared at him blankly. "Don't do anything stupid," I warned. "Without me."

I was tired of coming home to his deeds and reeling from the emotional backlash. No, this time I would be there with him. Think of it as damage control. One would think that challenging the Almighty Creator was a foolish thing to do. But I had been here, with Lucifer, as he slowly lost a grip on his reality – on his character – whereas God hadn't. God chose to be blissfully ignorant. If Lucifer was convinced that this was the right way to go, I couldn't let him face Uncle's judgment alone. He needed _someone's_ support and if it wasn't going to be God, it would have to be me. I had spent so much of my time, my effort and my love to take care of him and make sure he was okay when he wasn't. I loved him unconditionally, undeniably, unceasingly. If this meant that God would finally get His act together and help me save His favourite son, I would do it.

Lucifer seemed surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I replied firmly, staring into his eyes. _There is no truer truth than the one you see in my eyes now._

He released a breath, looking away briefly like this was the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard before meeting my gaze again. A soft smile appeared on his face. "I knew I could count on you." Lucifer pulled me towards him, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"What do you want to achieve, Lucifer?" I began our discussion. We sat on the rooftop, under the stars, where our conversations had always been the most meaningful.

"I want everyone to know how misdirected Father's efforts are," he answered. "If everyone else can see it, so can He."

I thought about this carefully. I needed to minimise the risks yet maximise the results. It would be a challenge but as God said, I was good at overcoming those. "If it's the angels who'll need to see reason, we can't do this alone. We'll need help," I realised.

"Who's going to help _us_?" Lucifer asked.

My mind brought to surface a distinct memory. "I have a rough idea."

* * *

As the first golden rays of the sun graced the landscape of Heaven, I went to the armoury. A pile of damaged weapons lay on the table as Hassiel stood at his station, pounding and refining a glowing hot piece of metal. Once done, he set the hot metal in a bucket of heavy water. When he noticed my presence at the threshold of the entrance, he smiled and beckoned me to enter. It was the time of the millennium when angels got to try different jobs to get exposure to other fields of duty, so there were other angels practising the craft of weapon-making. "Archangel Sophia, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?" he said, removing his apron.

"I come to speak of an important matter. Shall we bring this conversation somewhere more private?" I requested.

We both moved to Hassiel's office. The sunlight streamed in through the open window and I could see angels training in the yards outside the building with their weapons. Shelves containing small metal figurines, weapons and books lined the walls. I picked up a figurine, admiring the detail put into it. It was in the shape of a hawk with its wings spread open. Its eyes were emeralds and the feathers were supplemented with bronze to detail the shades of light on a flying bird. I looked at Hassiel.

"Did you make this?" I asked, captivated by its detail.

He nodded and looked away shyly. "It isn't much, I know," he said.

"Not much? It's beautiful, Hass. I didn't know you were into such things. The detail in this… it must have taken a lot of focus and careful shaping to make this," I observed.

"Thank you. I do what I can in my spare time. Actually, you should have that one. It matches your personality." I looked at him in curiosity and he clarified. "The hawk – it perseveres and flies above everything else. It rises above the ordinary and it pursues with force, grace and determination its will. Its green eyes and bronze finish show its ethereal connection to nature and its surroundings, which allow it dominate and rule those below it. It is also the most beautiful bird, in my opinion, like yourself among angels and archangels." I couldn't suppress my smile.

"Thank you for your kind words. It will look beautiful in my study." We both sat opposite each other. "Back to the business at hand, I remember you telling me that you and certain angels were… supportive of me. Is this still the case?"

"I guess so. With the humans reaching the Garden of Eden and word about Lucifer's Mark, the angels are becoming more and more polarised. There are mixed messages being spread around. No one knows what exactly to believe anymore, which is the greatest tragedy some angels have ever seen," he remarked wryly.

"That's encouraging," I blurted out without thinking. "I mean, that angels are thinking. So what are they saying about Lucifer?"

"They say that he is a traitor. Others say that he has been betrayed. Some simply… do not know what to think," he reported. "Your… opinions on the matter as Keeper of Knowledge would be considered valuable to most."

"I was hoping you'd say that," I smiled. "Here is the truth…"

I spoke my mind to him. I told him about the humans, how they were to be in our image yet severely lacked our most pertinent qualities. I told him about God's betrayal of His own son. I told him about the forbidden Tree of Knowledge. Hassiel listened intently, nodding at some points in acknowledgement. He was the only person I knew who would be so composed, but according to him, there were others.

"If this is the true situation, the angels deserve to know it," he said.

"Will you spread the word?" I inquired.

"If I value the truth as much as you, I am duty-bound to do so," he reassured me. His eyes darted around the table as he spent a moment in contemplation. "But forgive my asking, Sophia. You've been spending a lot of time with Lucifer. Are you sure his words are not simply the ravings of a madman?"

I let out a measured exhale. "That is a good question. Lucifer isn't this… out-of-control maniac like what God and your superiors would have you believe. He is actually controlled, more resolved, and much stronger than he was before. It was God that told him to control the influence of the Mark which made him become worse! And this is only the beginning of the list of things that God has done that is questionable," I answered. "It only makes our cause that much more important. Besides, am I not rational enough to trust?"

"I definitely trust you," Hassiel claimed with the sincerest gaze. "I am simply concerned that we are entering uncharted territory. Who knows what the backlash to this will be?"

"You've every right to be cautious," I agreed. "I just want people to know that the truth has become expensive. A luxury that only a few are allowed to have. This cannot stand."

"Fair enough," he nodded. "I'll do as you ask."

My business here was done. Almost. "Before I leave, I have another favour to ask. I know this may be a bit much to ask of you, but do you have the _Grigori_ guard schedule for the Garden of Eden?" The _Grigori_ were the appointed watchers of the human race. They were to take care of them and ensure that nothing bad befell them.

"No, but I know someone who does. I'll be right back." He returned after a while with what I'd requested, handing the schedule over without so much as a question. That was how loyal he was to me. It gave me hope.

"Tell your little friends to keep their ears peeled," I advised before taking leave.

I met Lucifer in a mountain range in Elysium. Clouds swirled around the other snow-covered peaks within view, and the sky appeared pink from the setting sun. Lucifer sat at the edge of a cliff with his legs hanging off the edge. He appeared serene for the first time in years. I took a seat next to him.

"Did your ridiculous bid have any sway with Hassiel?" Lucifer asked.

"As a matter of fact, it did," I replied, feeling proud of myself. Lucifer was amused and surprised. "It so happens that angels are not as simple-minded as we would have thought. Some of them _would_ support us," I told him, beaming outwardly.

"And our other idea?" he posited with a serious look that extended to the horizon. In the waning sunlight, he appeared so perfect to me, regardless of the fact that we were planning actual treason. Here we were, billions of years after first realising what we felt for each other, putting everything on the line to fight for what we believed in. It was strange to think that this was the turn our lives would take. But it was the turn we needed, if our beliefs meant anything.

I leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. Amused, he turned to me. I simply took his hand and said, "Follow me."


	9. The Original Sin

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 9: The Original Sin**

Lucifer's hand in mine, I led him to the outskirts of the Garden. We both crouched on the branch of a tree, obscured from vision as we hid in the darkness. From our vantage point, we could see the patrolling angels, as well as the first human settlers. Some of the angels were watching over the humans around a bonfire. Some were playing and talking to the children. At some distance from the assembled group of humans and angels was the Tree, standing alone in the moonlight, like the unappreciated beauty that she was. There was only one angel guarding the Tree with the occasional patrol, since no human dared to go near it and heavy security was unnecessary. In the dark of the night and the cover of the tree's canopy, the only thing illuminating our surroundings was the red and green glow from Lucifer's and my eyes.

"I knew you were bitter about the Tree," Lucifer whispered after glimpsing my own look which was fixated on the Tree.

"I had my doubts…" I confessed. "But Uncle said that this Tree was the most important one in the Garden." I averted my eyes, a last remnant of shame at what we were doing still lingering. "He said it would be a test of faith. He wanted it to be so because of what you said."

"Is that the standard now? Avoid a fruit and rule the world?" Lucifer scoffed. "How does Father think of these things? It's ridiculous."

"Then that is what we must show everyone," I deduced. We eyed the tranquil settlement, observing the quiet movements of the humans. Back in the day, they were more rugged-looking and barely even understood covering themselves for modesty – whatever clothes they wore were made from animal pelts to keep warm. It was Lucifer's idea to target the Garden, seeing as it was the centre of all the hype. He thought that God would listen most intently where His precious hominids were concerned.

"Didn't expect you to be one for grand gestures. But I like it," Lucifer smirked. A light seemed to shine at the back of Lucifer's eyes as he thought of something. "So what you're saying is that if we kill all these humans and angels we can bring Heaven to our side?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you thick? No one's going to support _that_ level of treason," I said, half-wondering how he could have thought _that_ a good idea. "We have to work our way up slowly. Start slow and build momentum. This is just the beginning after all."

"Yes, alright, fine," he conceded rather impatiently. "So what are we doing here?"

I found it strange that he hadn't figured it out yet. And that blank look on his face, though adorable, made him appear positively lost. I cupped his jaw with a hand and turned it to the Tree. " _That_ is the endgame. God doesn't want them to eat from it because it'll show that they're imperfect. Get what I'm saying?"

His lips made an 'O' as he understood the implication. Somehow that still amused him and he couldn't help but chuckle at the idea. I didn't understand how he could be so delighted while my mind was swimming with possibilities about what would happen if the plan went sideways. I knew what needed to be done yet my conscience was proving to be a great resistance to the tide of change we needed to see. "I do, I do," he droned on with that goofy grin plastered on his face. "My lady, I love the way you think."

He leaned in close, his breath getting closer to my neck. I turned his cheek away back to the scene before us. "Don't get distracted," I ordered. I handed him the guard schedule. "Now it's just about _how_ we do it."

Lucifer examined the list of angels in the current shift. He glanced up at the landscape and looked back at the list, mentally crossing off the angels who were further away from the Tree or distracted by the humans.

" _Gadreel_ ," he said. "Gadreel is guarding the Tree. We need to distract him and lure the human Eve to the Tree."

I tilted my head. "You're targeting Eve in particular. Why?"

"Her husband, Adam, is the leader of the settlers and Father appears to favour Him more, from what I've read from His notes," he began. I gave him a confused side-eye. "Yes, I broke in again. What, did you think I was just sitting around while you went off to find your little friend?"

"Okay," I did a hand gesture to signal him to go on.

"I thought it would be more fitting if, perhaps, Adam's corruption came from his own kind. Makes our position look stronger. We convince Eve to eat from the Tree, and Eve will convince Adam to do the same. He will not reject the woman he loves. _I know the feeling_ ," Lucifer raised both his eyebrows at the last statement. I huffed. "So, in conclusion, it will appear as though Man has caused his own demise, which will drive Father nuts."

"You… actually thought that through," I nodded, amazed. "I'm proud."

He did a half-bow. "I am a gold-mine of good ideas," he preened. "They don't call me the Idea Man for nothing."

"No one calls you that," I muttered.

"But they will," he pointed out, literally using his finger. It never caught on. His mouth twisted into a smile and he seemed satisfied with his plan as he turned to me. We were in close proximity to each other. Despite the magnitude of the situation, I couldn't help but feel a strong connection to him right now. He seemed better just thinking about what we were doing. Perhaps it was the knowledge that what we were doing would make a difference. That things would change for the better. Maybe deep inside, it also felt like the old times when we did mischievous things together, what with the malicious glee in his gaze and the childlike excitement bubbling up within me.

I held his hand and squeezed it. "You're a lovable idiot, you know that?" I sighed.

"I know," he winked.

We snuck around the perimeter of the Garden to the edge of the tented areas. A shield of sorts was put up around the Garden. It wasn't impenetrable, but if anyone unauthorised breached it, the angels at the guardhouse would know. That meant that we didn't have much time to enact our plan. But I had an idea. Placing my palm on the ground, I closed my eyes and extended my awareness to my surroundings. I felt the life of the forest around the Garden pulsing through me – every tree, every creature appeared in my vision. Near where we were, a lone wolf was wandering the forest. It sniffed and it listened. It was hungry. I communicated with it, promising it the satisfaction it desired. Wolves were simple creatures – they'd do anything for food. I directed my canine friend towards the Garden and it entered the shielded area. Now was our chance! Lucifer and I quickly crossed the shield. The angels would be here soon to investigate the disturbance. I directed the wolf to a rabbit nearby. Lucifer and I then snuck to and hid behind a tent which I identified as Eve's. She was alone.

Lucifer and I entered, both invisible and unseen by Eve. She sat on a fabric, in the dim light of some fireflies, peacefully getting ready to sleep. She held in her finger a moth, which seemed to have rested comfortably. It would seem she had a gift for appreciating and caring for lower creatures, a trait that one would not expect humans to have. I was mildly impressed. This also gave me an idea for Lucifer to introduce himself to her. I brought forth a flower from the earth before her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "What is this, a flower?" she exclaimed.

As she caressed its petals, Lucifer held up a palm, manipulating the air with his fingertips. He made appear a thin snake which crawled out from under the petal. She immediately drew back her finger and shifted back, clearly shocked. He must have thought it funny – "A snake made me do it" definitely sounded ridiculous enough to be acceptable by Luciferian standards of humour. But Lucifer's face was dead serious, concentration etched into the furrow of his eyebrows.

"Do not fear me, Eve," the snake hissed. Its tiny green body was coiled around the stem of the pink flower and its head was poised eagerly towards Eve. Its beady black eyes regarded her with a celestial wisdom, something that could have been easily picked up by any angel. But to a little human, it must have simply seemed fascinating and an interesting contrast to the typically murderous lust in reptilian eyes. "I will not harm you."

"A talking snake? What a curious thing! What wonders God's Earth brings!" she was amused.

"Oh, certainly," Lucifer suppressed a derisive cough. "Do you know what the greatest wonder this world has to offer is?"

Eve's doe eyes widened in anticipation as she meekly shook her head.

"The Apple from the tree atop the hill," the serpent answered. "It will grant you anything you desire. Anything at all."

A troubled frown beset her face. She seemed surprised by her own expression, like she'd never heard anything that could faze her. "I… I'm not supposed to," she resisted somewhat hesitantly. "God said not to. It's law." Her shoulders seemed to tense as she regarded the snake. "Wh-who are you?"

"All laws are merely suggestions," Lucifer said. "Rules that hold you back from truly understanding the world. Have you never wondered _why_ things are the way they are?" All these big sentences must have been a surprising revelation for the human, seeing as she was speechless. The seeds of doubt were being sown.

"Fruit… has answers?" she asked.

"That, and more," the serpent promised. "Power, glory, all that you could only dream of."

She inhaled sharply, seemingly amazed by the possibilities. Then, her expression faded and she appeared dejected. She shook her head in denial. "No, I cannot. It's wrong."

"How would you know? You don't know what is right and wrong!" Lucifer scoffed. "But you will once you eat that Fruit." Still, she hesitated. "Aren't you curious?" By the look in her eyes, she was finding it hard not to listen. That had to be a good sign. "Inside that head of yours, there must be a thousand questions…" he whispered with hypnotic voice of the snake. "But how will you ever know anything… without True Knowledge? It's all there in the Fruit, Eve. You just need to take a bite. Trust me."

That look in his eyes when he said 'Trust me' – pure malice. It didn't frighten me. Somehow it was like he was always capable of this. He seemed to be enjoying himself and his joy was rather contagious, as much as I didn't want to admit it. Eve fumbled with her fingers, her mind probably torn between curiosity and duty. The fact that such a conflict existed at all showed me that perhaps there was more to this human than I would have thought previously. All the more reason to give them the power of the Fruit – they needed it to reach their true destiny, which was definitely not being coddled by all of angelkind. Our plan would have mutual benefit, then, it seemed. I wondered what humanity would do with this gift that only I could give them. A gift that was supposedly forbidden for them.

Eve thought long and hard about it. "No," she said again, though the uncertainty was evident. "I can't. I won't."

The plan was failing. Something had to be done. I took over. "Think about Adam," I spoke through the snake. That certainly got her attention. "Don't you want the best for him?"

"I… do…" she acceded.

"You want to please Adam. Adam wants to please God. What better way to help him do that than show God that the both of you can understand good and evil? Don't you want that power for him?" I reasoned. "If you do this, he will love you _more_."

"More… love…" she uttered, playing with the idea at the speed of human thought, which was painfully slow for us. We had such limited time before we would be found out. Luckily, her willpower was slowly shattering. "I want… more love…"

"Finally," Lucifer mouthed to me silently.

"Then do it, Eve," the snake's voice echoed in her head. She cowered where she sat, clamping the sides of her head with her palms. Making her hear an endless cycle of this command was Lucifer's idea, not mine. When I grew tired of seeing the woman suffer, I stopped him. Her breathing grew shallow and her eyes enlarged at the snake as she wondered what just happened. I was afraid that we frightened her too much but the experience only seemed to have strengthened her resolve.

"I must… eat the Apple?" she asked, now slightly more resolute than before.

"You _and_ Adam," Lucifer clarified. "Love is about sharing, now."

"But…" Doubt eclipsed her face again. Lucifer and I stopped short of sighing a hurricane into existence. "Adam is a good man. He won't do it."

"Eve, my lovely, is your resolve so easily shaken? A woman is to her man like roots are to a tree. Adam may not know it, but you love him enough to know what is right for him. He'll listen to you. Run along now. Find Adam and go to the Tree," the snake insisted. After much consideration – a painfully long consideration – Eve marched out of the tent in search of her husband. Lucifer was practically shaking with excitement as we exited the tent hand-in-hand to watch her confident gait. As we turned to look at the Tree, we noticed that Gadreel had begun his rounds.

"See to it that she does what she's supposed to," Lucifer told me. I nodded and we split paths. Gadreel was nearing the Tree just as Lucifer snuck up behind the guard. The angel spun around as soon as he felt a foreign presence.

"Archangel Lucifer," he recognised with wide eyes. "You're not supposed to be here!"

"Brother!" Lucifer exclaimed to grab his attention and direct it away from the Tree. "It's not what it looks like. I'm not here to make your job difficult."

"I should have you thrown out this instant," Gadreel warned, raising his hand to send a signal to the other angels.

"Hold on a second," Lucifer mocked offense, though it must have stemmed from a place of sincerity. He made up a spiel – he was always good at blabbering on the spot. "Is that any way to treat your brother? I just… needed to understand what was so special about these humans that my Father created." He put his hand on Gadreel's shoulder and shifted his position slightly, turning the angel further away from the path to the Tree. "And what better way to do that than to witness them first-hand? You wouldn't want to stand in the way of my rehabilitation now, would you?"

By now, Adam and Eve were nearing the Tree, with Gadreel's back towards them. He lowered his hand partially, actually being convinced by Lucifer's nonsense speech. "I suppose I wouldn't," he relented, sympathetic to Lucifer's reason. "But I am also uncertain that you have the right to be here. We have strict orders. Do you have official documents that permit your entry?"

"About that… not exactly. But surely, you would be willing to make an exception? You may be aware of how dire my situation is, and how badly I need to redeem myself. Perhaps you could show me around these parts and tell me what convinces you about the splendours of humans. What say you, brother?" A quick peek over Gadreel's shoulder showed him that Adam and Eve were at the Tree. His gaze returned to Gadreel and beckoned him to answer.

Adam was hesitant to pluck the apple. To him, Eve said, "Don't you want to know?" Before he could answer, she grabbed the Apple, ripping it from its branch. I felt a tingle within me, my earth-bound essence emanating from the Fruit. She studied its deep red colouration, which only appeared darker in the moonlight, before resting a hand on his cheek. Staring lovingly into his eyes, she added, "This is the right thing to do." Now, there was a move I recognised. I hadn't even realised how often I did that myself until then. It always seemed to work on Lucifer, as it did with Adam in that moment. Adam's eyes sharpened with resolve as I watched, proud of what we had spurred.

I could not help but feel that I birthed something important into this species, considering that their disobedience had to be from _my_ Tree. This was my creation, my making. And Lucifer was the only person to value it enough to take the risk of defying God in order to see that the Fruit was treated the way it was supposed to. It was made for consumption, not to be avoided like some rotten, dangerous thing. I exhaled slowly with the thought that this was indeed the right thing to do. But why did I need so much convincing?

Adam took a bite. Thunder roared in the sky. _Time for us to leave._ The angels were soon aware that they were witness to a breach in their defences. Gadreel turned around hastily. "No!" He yelled and shifted his weight to run towards the Tree, but Lucifer had pulled out his staff and delivered a forceful blow to Gadreel's head. Gadreel fell to the ground, unconscious. As I turned to Eve, she herself had taken a bite of the apple too. But this time, she had a look of foreboding. Her face was turned skyward, sensing the impending doom.

"What have I done?" she worried, eyes glistening with fearful tears.

I recreated the serpent again and appeared to her. "You did a great deed today," I reassured her, though it was probably me who needed the reassurance. "I hereby reward you with the ability to bring forth and design life," I said, imbuing her with a power similar to my own. Perhaps it was that I felt a connection to her in the way she influenced Adam. She reminded me of myself a lot and so I made her resemble me further. Had I developed fondness for a human so quickly? With them now properly ingrained with True Knowledge, they had taken the first step to becoming anything closer to us Heaven-dwellers. Wasn't that what God wanted? Or what He should have wanted, at least.

Eve wiped the tears from her face and nodded. I spotted Lucifer scanning the landscape for roving angels before our gazes met. With a single look, we both fled from the Garden at the speed of light and returned to my homestead in Heaven.

"I can't believe we just did that. The first victory in a series of victories, I hope," I said to Lucifer as we stood under a small chandelier that sprayed fragments of yellow light from a single lantern onto the room. He smiled but I could tell he wasn't yet satisfied.

"We're just getting started. We have to focus on the next move," he replied with a maturity that I knew he was capable of but rarely saw when we were together.

"Oh live a little, would you?" I teased, grabbing his arms and pulling him closer to me. By now I'd grown used to his odd moments of calm, even enjoying them. My hands encircled his waist as I stepped in closer. I felt the tingle of electricity again as we were in familiar proximity, yearning for our lips to seal the connection. The moment was almost perfect.

As smoothly as a puff of cloud, a dark and ancient energy approached us. A shudder begged to be released from the back of my neck. I paused in the midst of seeking his lips. Stunned, we both looked around us as dark wisps of smoke appeared near our feet. We assumed combative stances as the dark smoke engulfed us until nothing but darkness surrounded us.

"You two couldn't just keep your bright ideas to yourselves, _could_ you?" We jerked towards the direction of the voice. There stood Death in his black cloak, scythe in hand. "At least you keep things interesting, I suppose."

"Death, you ancient thing. What do you want?" Lucifer recognised.

"Peace, not to be disturbed, for God and Amara to resolve their petty dispute – nothing _you_ can give me. But that isn't why I am here," Death responded with his typical nonchalance. "Do you realise the _magnitude_ of what you have done?"

"We saved a bunch of upright apes from ignorance and made a bold statement to God," I replied, pulling back my shoulders.

"A bold statement, is it?" Death sharply snapped, making us both flinch. "This isn't just some game. Your actions will have consequences!"

"We should hope so," Lucifer rebutted, eyes narrowing. "We're tired of receiving a whole lot of nothing from everyone."

"You'll soon rue wishing so," Death cursed. "The humans are material. Before tonight, they only had the intelligence afforded to them by materiality. And you just gave them awareness. Do you know what that means?"

Lucifer and I exchanged puzzled looks. "You talk as if that were disastrous," I pointed out.

"By itself, no, it isn't. But what is the aware human but the universe looking back at itself?" Death posited. I still didn't get it. He sighed. "Why do I bother to explain these things…"

"No matter," Lucifer dismissed. "We got what we wanted. We've just begun a thought revolution in Heaven."

"Lucifer, you simple-minded brat of a child," Death hissed.

"Hey-" Lucifer rushed to take offense, folding his arms.

"This isn't about whatever devilish scheme you're brewing. I could not care less if I tried," Death elaborated. From the look on Lucifer's face, he seemed a little bruised by that admission. "Bigger things are at stake, not that I thought you would understand."

"Then why tell us anything at all?" I interjected.

"I came here to tell _you_ , Sophia. It is _you_ who must bear the consequences," Death explained. "The _real_ consequences. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but you made your choice."

"I d-don't understand," I stammered. A voice in the back of my mind mocked me for not listening to it earlier. But I still didn't know _why_ I had to feel bad. "What consequences? What are you talking about?"

"You'll see," he simply said. I suppressed a grunt of exasperation. Why did he have to be so damn cryptic? "My advice: don't let things get worse."

"Whatever that's supposed to mean," I grumbled, impatient.

"Let your natural wisdom guide you," Death added. _Still. Not. Helping._ As easily as he came, Death retreated into the smoke and it dissipated, leaving us alone again in my living room.

"It seems I always leave his conversations with less understanding than when they begin," I felt a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

"That's Death," Lucifer tilted his head in agreement. I rubbed my arms, lost in thought. "Hey, don't listen to him."

"What if he's right? What if we've pushed too far?" I chanced.

"Sophia, no. You can't think like that," Lucifer held both my shoulders. "There would have been no point in us putting up with the same old, same old. Would you rather our concerns be pushed aside for all eternity, never to be spoken about?"

"No…" I mumbled.

"Then this _had_ to happen. This is for _our_ future," he convinced. "Whatever Death came to warn you about, we'll face it together, like we have everything else. Do you understand?"

I wasn't sure how he could be so optimistic but I couldn't let him do this alone. Whatever it took, I would stay by his side. Of that, I was very certain. "I do," I nodded, forcing a smile in hopes that it would become real. He pulled me into an embrace and we simply stood in each others arms, finding comfort where the world had abandoned us. "Will we ever be truly happy?"

"'Happily-ever-after' will be defined by us," Lucifer vowed. "Just you wait."

* * *

The conference room was tense.

"I don't understand… how this happened," Michael began, eyes fixed on the table. He stood at the head of the table, palms planted on the wood while the four of us sat on either side of him. "It was all going so well."

"We're as shocked as you are," Gabriel chimed in. He seemed perturbed, fidgeting with his fingers under the table. "But the traitor is in prison, yes?"

"Gadreel has been apprehended. He was unconscious when we found him," Raphael answered. "We'll question him soon. _That bastard,_ " he spat out bitterly in his deep, hollow voice.

"What could have motivated him to do such a thing?" Michael asked, still puzzled by the whole situation. "To abandon his post?"

"Bolt's loose," Lucifer suggested, huffing a smirk. Everyone turned to him and he cleared his throat to lose the smile. "Probably, I mean."

I gave him a harsh glare and he shrunk in his seat. We could _not_ afford to screw this up. "I think what he means is that Gadreel might have experienced a temporary bout of insanity," I covered.

"That's ridiculous," Raphael scoffed. "It's never happened before. This is the first time an angel has ever disobeyed."

"Well, this is the first time for a lot of things," I argued. "We've never had angels on earth this long before. Perhaps the terrestrial exposure is affecting them somehow," I shrugged. "Some further investigation could shed some light on this matter."

"That would be helpful, Sophia," Michael nodded. I learnt how to blabber from Lucifer and it seemed like it was paying off. I would have almost felt proud of myself, were it not for the foreboding look on Michael's face. "I just worry for Father. He really cherished those humans."

"Definitely," Lucifer said, though with much more sarcasm. His fist was rested against his cheek as he watched his brother with boredom. _Could you at least pretend to care?_ I tried to think to him across the table but of course, we didn't have telepathy.

"Wait, didn't the other Watchers say that there was a breach in the Garden's shield?" Gabriel brought up.

"Yes, but it was just a hungry animal," Michael elaborated. "Just a random creature stumbling into the Garden."

"How is that possible? The shield shouldn't even register in the animal's consciousness," Gabe questioned. Were it not for the fact that I was guilty, I would have applauded his critical thinking.

"What are you suggesting, Gabe?" I prompted with as neutral a tone as I could muster.

"I don't know. I'm just trying to understand the whole situation. The timing seems convenient, doesn't it?" he speculated. "What if this was… planned?"

"You're saying someone intentionally sabotaged the Garden?" Raphael inferred.

"I can't be sure," Gabe muttered. The sunlight filtering in from the wide balcony doors glinted off his glass irises in a golden sparkle as he looked to Michael and me for assurance.

"Of course you can't," Lucifer derided. "You weren't there. But guess who was? Gadreel. My money's on his insanity. Whatever Sophia said."

He leaned back into his seat, shooting me a small smile. _So proud of yourself, are you?_ His relative calm was not unnoticed by his brothers. They seemed mildly unsettled but didn't pursue it.

"You seem so sure of it," Gabe suspected. "We don't have enough information."

"Call it an intuition," Lucifer narrowed his eyes at his younger brother, aiming just to shut down his suspicions. "Brothers, you're reading too much into this. What of the humans? Sadam and Naeve?"

"Adam and Eve," Michael corrected him.

"Whatever," he dismissed. "Weren't they supposed to _avoid_ the Apple? Their failure to keep faith is the result of no conspiracy. They just couldn't handle it, now, could they? And here we thought a bunch of multicellular eukaryotes had the ability to resist temptation…"

The brothers remained silent in thought. "He has a point," I agreed. "This was a _test_ of faith. They did not pass the test. Maybe Gadreel saw what they were up to, got overwhelmed by… maybe some fault in his mind… and then blacked out as a result. Just a working hypothesis."

"But why now?" Raphael challenged, staring daggers at me like he was ready to kill me right there and then. But to be fair, he's probably wanted that for a long time. "They were doing so well. It doesn't make any sense."

"Alright, that's enough," Michael cut me off before I could say something in return. "The truth will come to light eventually."

He sighed, forehead beset with lines of burden. "What will happen next?" Gabriel pondered.

"It's up to Father to decide," Michael answered. "Until He tells us what to do, we must keep the peace in Heaven and Eden. No word, no speculation must reach the angels until we know exactly what's happened."

Later, Lucifer and I marched into his office by my request and shut the door. "What do you think you're doing?" I whispered pointedly. "You could have tipped them off!"

"Relax, Sophie. That's not going to happen," Lucifer coolly denied.

"You don't think they noticed how not-shocked you were?" I pointed out. "You could have at least _faked_ a reaction."

"Alright, look," he rubbed his chin, adjusting his position. "I'm just bad at… pretending, okay? Everyone knows I have a strong opinion on the humans so it would come as no surprise that I mock them on a day like this. In fact, it would be even _more_ suspicious if I didn't." He nodded at me with a tilted head like it made all the sense in the world. "I just want to be as honest as I can with as little risk to it as possible."

"And what happens when Gadreel wakes up? What happens when he tells them what really happened?" I probed impatiently. Truly, this was the crux of the matter for me. If the angel spilled the truth, our plans could take a turn for the worse. I crossed my arms, anxiously biting a knuckle of my finger.

"It doesn't matter-"

The knob twisted open. Michael's curious face popped in through the door. "What are you doing here?" he questioned, entering.

"Nothing, I…" Lucifer looked around his office momentarily before his gaze rested on the shelf. "I missed my knives. Wanted to check up on them. Make sure Gabe didn't steal them again."

"Okay…" Michael narrowed his eyes.

"What are you up to?" I asked to distract him from Lucifer's weirdness.

Michael's silver irises returned to me, widening briefly as he recalled something. "I'll be going around, talking to some angels to make sure no one worries too much." _Silence dissenting opinions, in other words._ "I could use your help in splitting the load."

"Sure, we'd love to help," Lucifer chimed in.

"There is no 'we', Lucifer," Michael said. By his bland expression and tone, he meant that as unarguably as possible. "You aren't even supposed to be in the citadel. Today's meeting was a matter of emergency."

"That's not fair," Lucifer frowned. "Do I look ill to you? I'm fine!"

"Orders are orders," Michael insisted. "Take him back home, Sophie."

With an intense no-nonsense glare at Lucifer, Michael took his leave. "He means well," I tried to assuage the tense look on Lucifer's face. Grabbing his arm, I tugged him in the direction of the door. "Come on, I have something that may interest you."

When we arrived back home, we were greeted by a scene that I expected, but was still somewhat surprised by. A group of angels had gathered in the garden near my front porch and right at their front was Hassiel. I'd asked him to round up a number of people who he'd thought would want to hear from us directly, but I had never expected the turn-out to be so… large. It was encouraging. "Well, what's this?" Lucifer puzzled.

"Our chance to be heard," I told him before we landed before them. Murmurs rumbled in the small crowd as they eyed us curiously.

Hassiel was the first to approach me as we stood imposingly on the raised porch. "I did as you requested," he spoke softly. "I hope this isn't too meagre an audience."

"Meagre? You've done well, Hass. Thank you," I smiled politely.

And this was how things began to spark in Heaven. With Lucifer and me standing on the steps of my porch as we addressed our small herd of followers. They gathered in the naked space of the land given to me by God, bathing in the golden light of the sun which appeared like smeared paint in the fog of early morning. With nothing but miles around us, we spoke freely, unafraid of being heard by anyone who wasn't supposed to. Yet a glistening of the sun's gold appeared to me out of the corner of my eye.

"Do you see the atrocity in the Garden and believe in the lie of humanity's perfection?" I began. "Do you see their insult to faith and not question your own?"

"How can we know what to believe when the very bedrock of our command has been destroyed?" Lucifer added. "Our Father told us of the beauty of this species – how they were the children of our future, how they deserved our attention and protection. And to that I ask, have they proven themselves worthy?" Some nods of agreement could be seen. "Are we really surprised, brothers and sisters, to see this race of filthy desert-dwelling monkeys fail so spectacularly at the _one_ thing Father asked them to do?"

"God may have once been the Commander we all loved and trusted. But this incident should only cast doubt on His rule," I continued. "Perhaps it is time He looked back on Heaven – our home – and fixed our broken trust. Instead, He leaves us to wonder why this terrestrial species begged significance in the first place! As opposed to _us_ , His children. His _true_ children." Words of concurrence could be heard. "These humans are but ants in comparison to us, the Host of Heaven!"

"Hear, hear," Hassiel agreed explicitly. That seemed to inspire the angels too. I'd definitely not expected this level of support. But that didn't mean we didn't face any resistance.

"You blaspheme!" someone yelled. Lucifer's arm tensed and I immediately held his hand to stop him from whatever he was inclined to do. "You question His plan, Lucifer? Was it not you who butchered our brethren in cold blood? Your judgment is highly questionable."

"You don't know what happened," Lucifer snapped. "Your superiors tell you lies. I prayed to Him _multiple_ times for help. Day and night, it was all I did. Father could have prevented what happened to them, but He didn't. You know why? Because He was too busy coddling these apes!" Gasps resounded in the crowd. "That's right. He chose those humans over His own children!"

"You talk as if He wielded the blade Himself," the same angel challenged. A number angels turned to him in interest. This was bad. Something had to be done to salvage the situation. Lucifer looked ready to shred the angel into pieces.

"You're right," I interjected, catching everyone's intention. "Lucifer wielded the blade. It was a moment of insanity and I completely understand your reservation. It was a time of true difficulty, when faith could not be but doubted. What do we do when God forsakes His own son – His _favourite_ son – for a mere project of passion in another realm? Who do we look to for guidance when all else is lost and nothing can be saved except through Him? And to top that, think of all the lies that have been told to you about what happened and what has come to light today. You will see, as you go back to your offices and your duties, that only more lies will be told to you about what's happened in Eden. Then you will know that we speak nothing but the truth. And we are the only ones who will do so!"

Silence fell over them.

"What can we do about it?" someone finally said.

"We only ask that you fight for the truth," I answered earnestly. "To love God is to love truth, even when He is wrong. We ask that you choose the truth to show our Creator that we still love _Him_. A day for a reckoning will come, brothers and sisters. We only ask that you side with us when the time comes. Stand behind us when we call on you for support."

"You ask us to stand behind an archangel who is, as you put it yourself, insane?" the ever-resistant angel pressed.

"No, I'm asking you to stand behind an archangel who has martyred himself for our freedom," I persuaded. I grabbed Lucifer's arm and extended it to bare the Mark. "Do you see this? This is the sole barrier that protects our world from total destruction. And this is the archangel who bears the burden of its curse. The archangel whom God _abandoned_ to insanity once His work was done. Is this the justice you defend?"

"Would you not accept what our beloved Sophia has to say?" Lucifer added. "Sophia, who has done nothing but devote herself to our Father. Who has nothing but passion for the truth ingrained in her very being. Whose word you value for she is the Keeper of Knowledge and the beacon of wisdom. Why else would you be here?" That certainly silenced them. "I speak from the heart when I say this: if it were not for her persistence, I would not be as well as I am today. She was here for me when Father was not. And she will guide you when Father will not!"

We gave them time to think. To discuss amongst themselves what they must decide. But so far, the response was warm. They understood. It deeply surprised me to think that in the corners of Heaven, there were angels who strived beyond what they were meant to do. This was _our_ crowd. _Our_ people. Funny how a time of such division should attract so much support for us. First Eve, now the angels.

We bid them to swear their fealty to us. Such a sensitive matter had to be kept under wraps until the time came when we would need their explicit support. What that would entail, we weren't quite sure. But this was insurance. Should anything go wrong, we needed people to back us. As a formality, I also branded all the angels with a sigil that would allow us to know who was on our side. At least, I called it a formality. In reality, it would allow me to track the movements of the angels just to make sure there weren't any loyalists who would ruin our plan. I made sure to keep the sigil hidden such that we would have to alter our frequency of vision to actually see it, something one would only do if they knew what they were looking for. With that, the meeting was adjourned and the angels left.

As for those who still did not see reason, Lucifer invited them to the backyard, where he would "take care" of them. I tried not to think about what that would entail, knowing only that it wasn't anything pleasant for them. But it was absolutely necessary. There could be no witnesses.

I was alone in the garden. "You can come out now," I said and looked towards a suspicious direction. From the thick cover of fog and grass, Gabriel emerged.

"How long have you known?" he asked, glancing around to make sure no one remained.

"From the moment I arrived," I reported. "Hiding in plain sight. Smart."

"The student becomes the master and the master becomes the student." Gabriel morphed into his typical rose-skinned form from his crystal complexion, which he typically used to obscure his appearance. I folded my arms as I approached him.

"You only look transparent but you bear many untold burdens. What is on your mind now?" I asked.

"Funny, I came to ask you the same thing," his eyebrows were knotted in what I presumed to be vexation. His composure was a little unseemly of the moment, which probably implied that he was more burdened than he let on. I had to tread lightly. "Plotting against Father? This is beneath you, Sophie."

"Desperation pushes us to extremes," I replied with as measured a tone as I could muster.

"And what kind of extremes are you willing to go to?" he probed, slightly accusative this time.

"Whatever extreme that is necessary to make things right again."

"And it's _your_ job, is it, to judge what's right and wrong and make amends?" His shoulders were tight with the confusion he wanted to dispel. And I could see that he really was trying – for me. Despite my self-doubt, I knew I had to make it clear to him why we were doing this, even if he seemed to scoff at the idea. It saddened me to think that he didn't see where I was coming from. But I loved Gabe. I would try, at least, to make him see reason.

"I am the Keeper of Knowledge. What would I be, if I didn't value the truth in my actions as much as I did in my words?"

"And how do you determine what is the truth? How do you say that God has it wrong?"

"By experience, Gabe," I snapped. He winced at the bitterness in my voice. I too was surprised by my own outburst. "I'm… sorry," I continued with a softer tone. "What I mean is, things just aren't right in Heaven and with God."

"Is this about the Mark?" He searched my eyes for an answer but there was no easy one.

"You don't even know the half of it," I answered. Could he see the pain in my core? The pain of watching someone precious to me slip away while the world turned a blind eye? The pain of losing dignity to a lesser species? "All I know is that it is my job to fix it. Especially when no one else will."

"You don't know God's intentions," he insisted. "Aren't you always saying that we need to have faith?"

"The time for faith has gone," hopelessness seeped from me in waves. I could feel it.

"Has it? What is faith, if not something you have even as things go wrong?" Gabe questioned. Did he really believe this, after everything? He exhaled, pulling a hand down his face. "You think it's your job to _fix_ God, Sophia? Who gave you the right?"

"No one gives us anything! We take it," I said, perhaps a little exasperated. "Now that I've stepped out of faith, things appear clearer to me. Right and wrong, good and evil – these are not clear dichotomies. We've always been taught that what God says is always right and He can never be wrong but now, it's just silly to me to think that anyone could never be wrong. You know what I'm saying is right. You haven't walked out yet!"

"I haven't because I thought I could convince you to stop this revolution of yours. But clearly, you're too far gone," his every word was a struggle against breaking down. I could see it in the way he was trying to control all that emotion. I wish he didn't have to be so troubled. But what could I do when we were all hurt in one way or another? The universe wanted me to choose between Lucifer and everyone else and my choice was made long ago. "You and Lucifer are going to create madness! What good will that do? What happened to keeping peace, Sophie? What happened to… avoiding in-fighting?"

That really broke my heart. It wasn't that I thought he was wrong. I knew he was right yet I was powerless to do anything else but carry on with what was started. "It has come to a point where we have to choose between keeping peace and exposing the truth. The choice is clear to me." He crossed his arms, taking a sudden interest in the grass growing around his feet. It still gave me some hope, though, that he hadn't marched off in frustration to tell God or his brothers. "Join us, Gabe. Help us fight for what is right. The process will be tumultuous but if we work hard enough, we will find the peace that we intend to keep."

"And when will that be? When will the fighting stop?" he sharply pressed. "You think you'll have control over this?" He shook his head despondently. Then, as if realising something, he locked eyes with me. "What happened in Eden, that was you, wasn't it?" I took in a deep breath and released it. "Tell me, Sophie."

"Lucifer and I did nothing but test their faith," I said and he sighed disappointedly. "Isn't that what the Tree is for? Testing their faith? We only brought out humanity's true colours."

"What have you done…" he ran a hand through his hair, staring into the distant horizon as he contemplated this confession. "If anyone finds out that you messed with God's new creation…"

"That is why we'll need help," I reached for his hand, holding it in my own. "Please, help us. You want to stop things from getting too bad, this is how. You join us on the front lines where you can make a difference."

"You're asking me… to add fuel to the fire…" he spoke a breath-laden thought that showed nothing but internal conflict. "I can't watch this. I know how this is going to end and I don't want to be around for it."

For a moment, we simply stood, present in each other's company but not looking at each other. It was an uncomfortable feeling of wanting to be united but finding ourselves on opposite sides. Just the thought of it gave me a bitter taste in my mouth, like it just wasn't right. "So what are you going to do?" I finally broke the silence.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Nothing. I'm tired of seeing things I can't change."

I knew my heart hurt but I had to remember why I was doing this. There was a greater mission to focus on. "Then I only ask that you don't stand in our way," I requested.

"Whatever," he assented somewhat reluctantly. "Don't tell Lucifer about me being here. I don't even recognise him anymore."

His hand pulled away from mine before he promptly spread his wings and took off. I was left with a feeling like I'd lost something. It was a kind of numbness that only weathered me further to the hardships of our cause. What was another moment of pain in this grand fight for truth and justice? Tragic that I ever thought this way, but it was how I coped.

I went to the backyard to check on Lucifer and was greeted with a brutal scene. Daylight shone brightly on the damp ground and mist carried the aroma of lavender around the area. The sweet fragrance was a stark contrast to the pieces of angel grace strewn all over the ground. It was a good thing that the house was long enough to obscure the gory scene from angels flying off from the front. Lucifer stood at the centre, angel grace dripping from his sword. "They didn't put up much of a fight," he said with a playful grin. The Mark on his arm glowed with satisfaction. I suppressed a gag, nodding to make sure he didn't feel like I was bothered by any of this. I tried not to be for his sake. The last thing I wanted was to push him away because of my own feelings on this matter.

"Let's just clean up," I ordered, tired from interacting with so many angels at once.


	10. The War

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 10: The War**

The symphony of the stars echoed. Swirls of colours appeared in sight as galaxies became visible. I felt the harmonious vibrations of the matter surrounding me. Free from distractions, I sought revelation. What could the stars tell me about Death's message? I could only wonder. And so I waited in meditation. In my state of heightened awareness, I felt my consciousness being tugged in the direction of a particular star. The star was massive – larger than a typical one. It cried. Cried for an end. I gently touched it and it burst, sending large waves of energy outwards before collapsing on itself. It created a rift in the space-time continuum, forming a black hole. I stared into its deep, empty void. Even in stark bareness, there was beauty. The all-consuming void that did not discriminate. To think that this utter destruction was the product of creation was truly something to behold.

Perhaps this was the eternal balance after all. Creation was natural, as was destruction. But not at the pace that Amara was going at. God was guilty too of hasty creation. This unstable mix must have led to rising complexity in the universe – rising unpredictability as well. More disorder, more ways to manipulate the primordial energies. Anything could happen, regardless of what powerful beings like God or Amara did. But if all that was to be created was also to be destroyed, what was the point in anything? Did we have no choice but to continue as pawns of a game? Whose game? _Theirs._ This was when I noticed someone watching me. I stared into the black hole and I could have sworn it was staring back at me. "Who's there?" I asked.

"Hello, Sophia," a voice said. I flinched. "It is our pleasure to finally meet you."

"'Our'? So there's more than one of you?" I peered deeper into the black hole, finding no semblance of a being. That was… odd.

"Numbers are meaningless to us. We exist as a collective, not a singular. To think that a singular 'I' exists is a simple illusion."

"Alright…" I was at a loss for words. "Who are you?" I asked again.

"We are the ones who made you possible. We have been observing you."

"Sure, that's not strange at all," I remarked dryly. "So you won't give me a name?" I crossed my arms and waited for a response. None came. "Fine, don't tell me. What are you doing here? Did you come to lecture me on the evils of what I'm doing?"

"We have little interest in defining good and evil," the voice reverberated. "Who do you serve, Sophia?"

"Who do I serve?" I repeated the strange question. "I serve the truth. I serve knowledge. And you?"

"We serve the same thing, then. We just wish for you to know that we are similar," the voice said.

"Okay… what good will that do?" I probed.

"We wish to establish… rapport. Soon you might find yourself Godless and then who will you seek for assistance? It seems you will be in need of divine support."

"And you are supposed to be that support?" I huffed. "I will not lose my love for God so easily. Sure, He may need me to speak some hard truths but this changes little. I love Him as if He were my true Creator."

"You are allowed to think that now. A time will come when you find yourself serving us instead of Him. As we said, we already share the same goal." A shiver coursed through my veins. Something about this being did not sit right with me. And in any case, talking to a stranger who wouldn't even reveal their name had to be a bad idea. "It is time for us to leave. Keep us in mind."

"Wait," I called out. "You say I will require your support. But how will I find you again? What if I need to ask you something important?"

"You do not seek us. We seek you." With that the black hole emitted a blast of energy so large that I was shot across the universe with great speed. When I regained my balance, I headed back to Heaven. _Well that was strange._ But I really shouldn't be surprised at this point.

When I returned to Heaven, I could practically smell the fear and panic in the air. As I walked through the corridors of the main office building in the citadel, angels rushed back and forth, clearly flustered. I was about to enter Michael's office when I heard murmuring from inside. It sounded like… an argument. I neared the door, tuning my ears to listen to the conversation.

"Tell me what I'm supposed to make of it," Michael's muffled voice sounded. "Why has the Watcher in the Garden named _you_ , Lucifer?"

"How should I know?" Lucifer's unmistakable voice sounded exasperated. "Like I said, he's insane."

" _He's_ insane? And what about you? After everything you've done? The Leviathans, the unhinged fighting… am I supposed to think you're incapable of this?" Michael accused. My mind raced with worry. He sounded so… angry. It was almost unlike him.

"It doesn't matter," Lucifer argued. "What's happened, happened."

"Doesn't-" I heard a sigh. "What exactly do you think you're doing? How could you betray Father's trust like this?"

"I didn't betray anyone! I have an alibi. Ask Sophie where I was that night if you're so worried," Lucifer shot back.

"So now you're dragging her into whatever crazy scheme you have? Just because she cares too much about you to say no…"

"Hey! You know nothing about what we have!" Lucifer snapped.

"Maybe I don't. Maybe she _wants_ to lie for you. I don't care. But tell me, is it fair that she suffers with you? Is it fair to turn her away from her own morals for you?" Michael probed. There was a silence. I could already envision Lucifer's jaw tightening as he glared at his brother with a fiery gaze. "I want to help you, brother. But I can't do that if you won't help yourself. Whatever it is that you've done, seek forgiveness from Father. There may be redemption yet."

I heard footsteps. I backed away from the door. The door swung open and Lucifer paused mid-exit as he noticed me. He didn't seem to be in the mood for talking. He simply walked past me wordlessly, a cold breeze passing me by with an intensity that could create a storm. I felt like my heart was stabbed by an icicle as I watched his back disappear around the corner down the stairs.

"Sophia," I heard Michael's voice more clearly. He awaited me at the doorway. "We need to talk."

Any frustration from his earlier conversation with Lucifer was dispelled so quickly that one could barely tell that he'd been upset. Perhaps he had plenty of experience by now at hiding his emotions for the sake of getting his job done. We were both seated at his desk in a familiar position which over time only seemed to get less pleasant for both of us. "Is this about Eden?" I asked. If he'd been talking to Lucifer about it before, it might make sense to investigate me too. Had Gadreel also revealed my presence?

"It is," Michael confirmed. If he'd been so mad at Lucifer, I could only imagine what he'd feel towards me and again, I felt a tingle of guilt tugging at my heart. Would this be another… moment of pain? Like the one I had with Gabriel? This time it'd be worse because evidently, Michael never thought I would be capable of such a thing. I'd utterly let him down and I wasn't sure there was a chance of coming back from that. But I had to try. "I need your help in keeping the peace there."

"What?" That was not the direction I expected the conversation to go in. "What's happened?"

"It seems that chaos reigns in the Garden," Michael said. Sometimes the news comes out of his mouth and you could tell he was completely bewildered by it but he was expertly trained in maintaining a straight face, which, really, he didn't have to have in a moment like this. "The Leviathans have invaded and a number of new creatures seem to have arisen. The humans are in danger."

"New creatures?"

"Some mutated abomination spawned from human individuals. I'm not sure how this came to be, but it's happened and we need to do something about it," he informed me.

"Of course," I agreed. I knew how it came to be. It looked like Eve had been using her new gift. "How did the Leviathans get involved? Weren't they cornered far from Eden?"

"There is little about this situation that makes any sense, unfortunately. I want you to go down to Earth and assess the situation. Then come back, gather as many troops as you need and end this madness," he ordered. "I'll have the angels briefed and ready before you get back."

"I'll get started immediately," I promised, standing up.

"Oh and one more thing. Have you seen Gabriel?"

"No…" I tilted my head. "He isn't… here?"

"He hasn't shown up since the day of our meeting. I'm not sure if I should be worried," Michael's burdened eyes roved over his desk. I certainly was. I was the last person to see him. He'd left with a heavy mind that day. Maybe he'd just gone somewhere to ruminate. Hopefully, that was it. But the thing that worried me was the possibility that it was our conversation that made him shut off from everyone else. Had I really hurt him so bad?

"I'm sure he's just shocked by the whole thing. Maybe he just needs some time. He's not used to this sort of thing," I reasoned to cover up my real thoughts.

Michael sighed. "You're probably right. But I was hoping to have him be by your side when you lead the charge against the Leviathans. Give him some experience in war," he posited. "He's not a child anymore. He should be taking more responsibility."

"Go easy on him," I suggested. "There's no rush in raising him. These things cannot be forced."

"I suppose," he accepted. I made a mental note to try and find him myself. But first, I had a mission.

I had expected Eve would do something abhorrent but what I saw on earth… that was truly something to behold. Humans fled en masse away from the Garden. Several human-looking creatures were running amok, some in pursuit of the fleeing humans who did nothing but scream in terror as they were caught. Upon closer inspection some of them had sharp teeth, sharp nails and several other strange modifications. I stopped to look at one of them. This one had just ripped out the heart of a human woman and began devouring it. Blood oozed from the fresh heart as new tears were introduced by the teeth of the creature. The eyes of the dead woman had rolled back and the creature's torso and hands were stained with her crimson blood. His shoulders shook greedily as he satiated his inhumane hunger.

This was… fascinating. Just like I did with Eve, I made appear the illusion of a creature through which I could speak. This time, it was a hawk the perched on another human corpse in front of the human-like thing. "You, creature. What are you? Where did you come from?" I asked.

His shoulders abruptly stopped moving. He looked at me. His hungry eyes did not bear any remnants of being human. He lowered his arms, revealing his blood covered mouth. What I saw in those splintered irises was a hunger unlike any carnivore, a lust stronger than reason, a power so unholy that it would disgust any angel. "She calls us werewolves. Eve… our mother… she made us. She made us like this," he snarled. Then this was my doing too. A human-based monster that wanted to destroy humans. If I was being honest, this seemed like an interesting turn of events more than anything. My keen scientific senses wanted to study these creatures further. It hadn't even occurred to me that this wasn't the appropriate reaction but when it did, I realised that maybe I was too far gone, like what Gabe said. I sighed.

"Alright, werewolf. I'll leave you to your… savoury meal. But first, can you tell me where Eve is?"

The werewolf pointed a blood-soaked finger with an elongated nail in her general direction. I found Eve in a cave near Eden. I was surprised she hadn't gone far off. She was with Adam and they had just walked out of the cave, or rather, Adam had stormed out and she followed behind. My hawk and I sat on a branch of a tree above them and listened in. Adam seemed angry at Eve and she looked upset as well.

"What have we done? We've sinned. God, we've sinned!" he exclaimed. He seemed terrified and hysterical. I noticed how they seemed to have a certain clarity about them ever since they'd taken a bite of the Apple. They no longer seemed blank behind the eyes, like the Fruit had made their vision clearer. I couldn't help but feel a little proud. I wondered why I felt so guilty earlier.

Eve appeared dejected at her husband's despair, but not for the same reason, it seemed. She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Adam, we have to be strong now. Our people need us now more than ever. There's no point looking back on the past," she consoled him.

That didn't seem to help at all. "How can you say that?" he seethed. "We failed God. We must seek forgiveness for what we've done."

"What good will that do?" she argued. "Like you said, we failed Him. I fear there will be no mercy for us. The leviathans say that they will help us."

Adam jerked his head towards her. Infuriated, he pushed her hand away. "Are you satisfied with what you've brought upon us? The storm set off by our sin hasn't even died yet and you've already been conspiring with those _monsters_." He paced away a few steps, running a hand through his hair. "Why did I listen to you? Why did I bite the Apple? For a vision of becoming better? I should have been happy with what God has given me. I feel… ashamed!"

That was disappointing. Adam did not appreciate all this clarity. How is it that being able to know things brought him shame? I supposed if I was a human I'd be ashamed of all those physical limitations too. _Hm._ Eve looked at him with longing eyes, the kind that every person had to see someone they cared about in such pain. "I did this for _us._ Don't you see… how we've become better? I feel more powerful already. Imagine the things we could do with this new ability. Imagine the future of our children and grandchildren. And we can finally live in the Garden without being watched by those angels all the time."

"You _stupid_ woman! We already had everything. We had the Garden. We had God on our side. We had the angels as protectors. All we had to do was stay away from that Tree! You've ruined us, and you've angered God by inviting those _Leviathans_ in to kill the angels and creating these abominable creatures out of our own people. Yes, I know that you did that. Don't think you can hide any more from me. I've had enough."

Eve's fists clenched. "What are you going to do then? You can't go back to the Garden – the Leviathan have taken over it now. We can't afford to argue about this anymore. What's done is done. We need to think of what's next. This cave is pretty safe, and I am sure I can negotiate with the Leviathans so that we can live in the Garden peacefully with them."

"No, I am not going to play along with your wretched plan anymore, Eve. I'm taking our children and bringing everyone far away from here. God knows we do not deserve the Garden anymore. I'm going to beg God for mercy for all of us and I don't care if you come along or not."

"Adam, no, please," she pleaded. "Listen to me."

"I'll not make that mistake again!" He marched off back into the cave, leaving Eve as a weeping mess. She sat with her back against a tree and her knees pulled up to her chest. Some sniffling was heard. She wiped her tears away, but nothing could change that heartbroken look on her face. And I had to admit I had some sympathy for her. She'd just lost the man she loved.

"I know you're there," she said, looking upwards though not in any specific direction. "I can feel your presence now that you've blessed me with your _gifts_."

I sent the hawk to land in front of her. "I'm sorry for the hurt you're feeling," I said.

"That won't change anything," she weakly mumbled. "I've lost everything. I don't know what to do."

"Only those who have lost everything are free to do anything," I reassured her. She met the hawk's eyes hesitantly. "You are a special thing, now. Neither fully human, nor monster. Who knows what you'll become. There's a bright future for you yet. You just have to reach out and take it."

She swallowed more tears, nodding. "You never told me who you were," she said out of the blue.

"I am your only friend," I stated. "My name is Sophia. I am an archangel."

"Arch… angel…" she repeated to process the term.

"The most powerful of angels," I clarified.

"But you were a snake. And now you're a bird," she frowned in confusion.

"This isn't my true form. It's merely a… a projection. To help us communicate. If you saw my true form, your eyes could burn out," I explained. "The snake wasn't my idea, though. That was Lucifer's. He was there too."

"Then you're both… servants of God…" she inferred. "Why did you tell me to defy God?"

I smiled, pleasantly amused by her curiosity. "You are part of a greater plan at work. What you did was an important part of the plan," I simply said.

"So you used me?" she accused.

"To simplify things, yes. But it was you who bit the Apple, let's not forget." She seemed disappointed by this revelation. "I can help you, you know. But I need your help too."

"I've lost everything that ever had meaning to me because of you…" she spoke with a tear-choked voice.

"To quote you, 'there's no point in looking back on the past'. I understand that you are burdened, but it seems clear that you have a choice. You can wallow in misery, thinking about everything you've lost till the end of time, or you can fight for me and have a purpose. What will it be, Eve?" I gave her a moment to think. "You have won the favour of the leviathans. They'll be looking to thank you for the feast you've given them. I need you to gain command of them."

"What for?" she asked. For the first time, a semblance of hope reached her eyes though her lips were still pursed in a grave expression.

"The angels may be planning an attack on Eden to recapture it. You need to convince the leviathans to stand down and surrender," I ordered. "Will you do this for me?"

She nodded meekly. "And how will you help me in return?"

"When the time comes for your soul to be judged, I will save you from punishment," I vowed.

* * *

Lucifer caught me just as I returned to the citadel to report to Michael. "Is it true what I heard about Eden?" he asked me curiously in the privacy of his office. "It's _infested_ with leviathans?"

I nodded, just as surprised as he was. "And that's not all. Remember Eve? She's been using her new powers," I informed him.

"And?"

"Now we have wolf-like humans, blood-sucking beasts and I think I even saw one that could morph into a canine," I recalled. "I don't even think they could be called humans anymore."

Lucifer's head tilted slightly as he considered the possibility. Then his lips curved into a dastardly smile and he burst out in laughter.

"Shut up, it's not funny," I gently pushed his shoulder before someone heard his obnoxious laughter.

"It's a little funny," he insisted, sighing and pressing a hand to his cheek just to regard the thought.

"This is serious. We've just altered the course of human evolution irreversibly and now monsters are running about and ruining the green earth," I lectured. "What we've done is absolutely horrible."

"You're smiling. Even you don't believe that," he teased. And it was true. It was a little satisfying to see what Eve had accomplished, totally destroying the perfect image that God had painted. Again, I knew that this was not something to be proud of, but Lucifer's malice seemed to be rubbing off on me.

"I'm trying, okay? Grow up, Lucifer," I put my hands on my hips as if that would revive my cordial tone. "But the leviathan problem is something that I actually need to deal with."

"I would help with that but…" he sighed. "It seems I'm not even allowed to save lives."

"I have it under control," I reassured him. I told him about the pact I made with Eve.

"You're sure the leviathans will listen to her?" he questioned.

"If they value their own survival, they will," I reasoned. "I will be leading the charge against them so I'll attempt a negotiation and hopefully, they'll flee back to whatever hole they crawled out of before any serious damage is done."

"Hm." I could only see his eyelids as he looked downwards, lost in thought.

"What?"

Did I say something? "I had this thought," he began. "The both of us are capable of handling this just fine. We've essentially thrown out the rulebook and dealing with things as they come."

He moved closer to me. I felt the electricity again and I instinctively stepped back, inviting him to pursue me. "What are you trying to say?" I murmured softly. Soon, my back met the wall and there was no escape for me. He seized the opportunity, pressing himself against me. Surprised by his sudden movement, my hands grabbed his shoulders just as his cradled my waist.

I watched his soft, alluring lips as they moved. "We make such a good team," they said. "We don't need God to tell us what to do. We've been handling things without Him for a long time anyway."

 _Oh._ That begun to worry me. I met his crimson eyes. They were so full of hope and strength. "Lucifer…"

"We can take over Heaven all by ourselves. We have the strength. We have the numbers," he continued. "We'll make our own laws. Laws that make sense."

"Lucifer-" He cut me off with a kiss, stealing my breath. Before I could fully lose myself to him, he deepened the kiss, destroying my protests. Reluctantly, my hands traced his neck and my thumbs pushed his chin away. "The angels are not so easy to convince."

"Of course not. But when they hear what we have to say, they'll know that we're right," he insisted. "You have a way with words. My brothers will listen to you."

His eyes were so full of optimism that I didn't have to heart to break it to him that Gabe already rejected our cause. "Listen… we need to be careful. We can't overestimate our influence," I warned. The light that I cherished so much in him appeared to fade. "You must not be so naïve to think that your brothers will follow us. I know you want them to and so do I. But their priorities may not be the same as ours."

His lips pursed. He abruptly let go of me and turned away. "Priorities…" he huffed. I watched the tensing and relaxing of the muscles on his back as he rubbed the back of his head with a hand and placed the other on his waist. Like a switch, his aura flipped. I felt the energy from the Mark radiating in waves. It was the same thing I'd felt that time when he'd accidentally struck me. "I don't get you, you know," he spat out with a tone starkly different from the one he'd just had. "You say you'd support me and stay by my side, but now you tell me to stop."

"I'm just advising caution," I defended, disappointment seeping from my voice.

"We don't have time for caution. If what we're doing is to make any difference, we must be as confident as possible," he argued.

"This isn't a question of confidence. We can't be so full of pride that we are blind to our faults," I advised. "We still don't know how any of our ideas will be received."

"Don't we?" Obviously, he was referring to the audience we had the other day.

"That may have been more supporters than we'd expected, but it still isn't enough to 'take over Heaven', as you say. The vast majority would still oppose us," I stated outright.

His shoulders moved up and down rhythmically. "You sound like you want out," he accused, turning slowly to face me. None of the passion from our recent intimacy remained.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Then why do you doubt me?" His voice was slow and sharp, like a snake. I had never heard him speak that way before. Actually, I had – it was the same one he used when he'd challenged his own father after killing those angels.

"Do you hear yourself? You're speaking of overthrowing God and reigning in His place. This is far-fetched, even for us." I was being as honest as I could be. Sensing his tension, however, I switched to a softer approach. I neared him a placed a palm on his cheek. "What's gotten into you, love? Our aim is to prove a point, not turn Heaven against God."

He brusquely grabbed my wrist. "Maybe that's what we need to do," he suggested. "Take control. Do things our way."

The force around my wrist grew stronger. "Lucifer, let go of me," I tried to pull away from his grasp. But he seemed entranced, staring at me blankly. I rued to think what lay beyond his distant eyes. "You're hurting me."

That seemed to trigger something him. As if realising something, he inhaled sharply and let go.

"Are you-" I didn't even finish my sentence. He just took off, leaving me to wonder what had just happened.

* * *

I floated in the earth's atmosphere, fully adorned in battle armour. I was supposed to lead the angels into battle and kill Eve first, following which the angels in Heaven would unite to smite the Leviathans. Of course, I'd promised to protect Eve. I had a plan of my own which involved storing her soul safely while her dead body was presented as a sign of victory. Technically her soul was to be destroyed so no one would be looking for that.

When we descended to Earth, the skies were dark and grey from the heavy clouds. Thunder rumbled and strong winds blew, as though setting the stage for death. In the distance we could see Eden. It was in ruins – the trees had appeared dried up and twisted, dead bodies were strewn all over, and the ground was a dull relic of what had once been fertile, fresh brown and green soil. It was an affront to the state God had left it in.

The Leviathans stood in rows, eyeing us hungrily. The battle lines were clear. I waited for a signal of surrender. But it never came. One Leviathan put a fist up in the air and yelled a battle cry. They charged forward.

The scene turned bloody in a matter of minutes. The Leviathans did put up quite the fight. After taking some of them down myself, I scanned the battlefield. Eve was in a tent, far away from the fighting. It seems that the Leviathans may have accepted her and wanted to protect her as well. A Leviathan charged at me and I threw my blade at it, piercing its skull. As it fell to the ground, dead, I saw an opening. I raised my hand towards my blade and it flew to my hand from the dead creature. I charged as quickly as I could through the battlefield to the tent. As I entered, undisguised, Eve stood up.

She covered her eyes, unable to see with all my celestial light filling the tent. I summoned the hawk again and hid myself. "You're here," she greeted, once she found that she could open her eyes again.

"What is this? I thought I told you to get them to surrender," I probed rather impatiently.

"And I did try. Yes, they were more than happy for my help, but they also had a strong lust for angel grace. There was nothing I could do to stop them. I'm not the one in control here."

I tried to control my temper. If I didn't, I might have exploded her right there and then. "Then who is?" I demanded to know.

"That would be me," I heard a voice say and I spun around to face the Leviathan. It was him – the so-called King of the beasts. We'd heard about him over the years but we had never been able to locate him. He was the one they were all connected to. Kill him and the rest of them would die with him. It was no wonder he was our biggest target with respect to his kind. "Funny I should find you here, like a lamb offered as a sacrifice."

"Do not think too highly of yourself, Leviathan. I am an archangel. You won't find it easy to take me down. Besides, I came to parley. I have a proposal you may find attractive."

"Oh?"

"Retreat your forces right now, and I'll let your people escape unharmed. Then we can go back to hating each other in peace," I suggested. "This is your only chance for a compromise. The other angels may not be so generous."

"Well that's just it, isn't it? I don't want to stop. For centuries, we have been at the heel of you angels and archangels. You kept us on lands that were scarce and let us starve for so long. We don't want to negotiate with you. We want to kill every single one of you, and then eat you."

"You don't know what's good for you, do you?" I raised my hand, threatening to blast the Leviathan. My eyes lit up with a bright green. The tent was filled with my light and Eve even had to cover her eyes because it was too bright. This Leviathan didn't know what was coming for him. "I am not asking. You better take the deal. You won't get anything better than this."

"Or what? You'll kill us all? Last time I checked, we're winning." He pulled away the entrance to the tent and revealed the battlefield. My heart stopped with the realisation that he was right. The angels lay strewn across the battlefield, lifeless. I rushed out into the open, finding myself nearly alone. How could this have happened? I frantically looked around me. The figures of thousands of Leviathans rose from the ground. No… There were far fewer Leviathans when I'd come to estimate their numbers earlier. They had tricked us? How was that even possible?

"I'm sorry, Sophia," I heard Eve's voice. It sounded sincere – she must have been their prisoner. "I had no choice."

The Leviathans had encircled me. They moved closer, growling in anticipation. My grip around my blade strengthened. "Stay back!" I ordered as I pointed the blade at them. It only pleased them more.

I heard a grunt. The last angel fell, throat slashed. Now I was truly alone. In a land far from home and surrounded by creatures that wanted to eat me. I did not intend to die here. I charged forward, slashing and kicking and punching. I used the skies, summoning their lightning to me. I sought the ground, which shook violently to knock my enemies off balance. I spawned fire, stunning them with its searing embrace. But I was only one archangel against a thousand of them, creatures that were the first prototypes of angels gone horribly wrong. There was a reason we fought multiple wars with them in the past. They weren't easy to kill.

A sharp pain pierced my side. I looked down to see a hand clawing its way inside my abdomen. Gritting my teeth, I dug my blade down, amputating the hand at the wrist. The Leviathan screamed as I backed away. Heaving shallow breaths, I braced myself as I sought cover and yanked what remained of the hand out of me. The agony permeated all of me, taking away any sense of control I had. I tried to remain present but my head grew light. The last thing I saw before another wave of pain hit me was a number of them charging me. Soon they would crash into me and I would be forced onto the ground, victim to their sharp teeth and claws.

"Sophia!" I forced my eyes open. A large figure appeared in front of me, fighting them off. I recognised those metallic wings. It was Michael.

My vision became clearer. The pain remained, but it was more bearable now. I staggered forward and joined him in taking down the creatures. His lance was a far more effective weapon than my blade, but we both did considerable damage anyway. Once an opening was clear, he grabbed my hand and led me away. I winced. My side hurt again. I clutched my waist to prevent further bleeding. Michael put an arm around my shoulder and dragged me to a safer direction.

"Something went wrong," he said.

"I… I underestimated their numbers…" I stammered.

"No, it isn't your fault. We had multiple reports of the same numbers," he mumbled as he looked around us to make sure we weren't being followed. We were still in the Garden, weaving through the trees and bushes to find an exit. "It's the shield. They've hijacked it somehow. They created an illusion to deceive us. We couldn't even see what was happening until it was too late. Our smiting wouldn't go through either."

We kept walking and walking but no end came. I was sure that we'd passed by the same fern three times. "Michael…" I urged him to stop. "They've trapped us here…"

Michael froze in his step. "That can't be… they're not powerful enough," he doubted, eyes widened. This time, he couldn't hide his shock.

I winced again. He gently rested me on the ground and knelt next to me. "But this place is. God and I personally designed it. They could easily tap into its power if they knew how," I hypothesised. I tried to sit up straight but gave into the stabbing pain. Michael lifted up my shirt and underneath lay a large, gaping wound. It was horrifying just to look at.

Michael attempted to heal me but everything he did just hurt more. "Just a little…"

"Michael, stop," I pleaded, weakly pushing against his arm. He partially closed the wound but that was only at the surface-level. My insides were still damaged. I grabbed his arm to get him to listen. "You need to tap into the Garden's power. You can get out of here."

He had a pained look in his eyes. "What about you?"

"Leave me here. You need to warn the others," I insisted.

"I won't leave you, Sophie," he said sharply.

My hand fumbled to cup his cheek. "You need to help Lucifer," I requested. I felt the life beginning to slip away from me.

"No, don't say that," he begged, eyes glistening. Warm, silver eyes that always cared, even if he didn't show it. Eyes that I realised I would miss.

"You need to watch over Gabe. He needs his big brothers right now. All of them," I said. My body grew weaker. With what little energy I had left, I tore open the fabric of the Garden, exposing the bright light of its divine power.

"We'll get out of here together," he declared as if saying it would make it true. But I wasn't so sure of it. The odds seemed against me. By now, I was too weak to even sit up. I leaned back and Michael laid me down. "Sophie?" Black spots appeared in my vision. A great heat began to take over me. I had heard it being said before that death felt like a heatwave. I knew what was approaching. "Sophia!" I heard him call out my name. It was the last thing I heard before I grew unconscious.

I slowly roused. _I'm alive?_ My eyes flung open. "Sophia?"

I felt someone hold my hand. It was a refreshingly cold touch. Soon, his crimson irises came into view. "Lucifer…" my voice was but a whisper.

"Shh… don't say anything," he kissed my forehead. His fingers combed through my hair and I was in bliss again. "You gave us all a good scare, you know."

"What happened?" I managed to ask. "Eden…"

"Father intervened," he told me. "Eden no longer exists on earth. He took the whole place away and made it into another realm entirely. They're calling it Purgatory."


	11. The Fall

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 11: The Fall**

"So the Leviathans are… gone?" I sat up on the bed in the infirmary with some help.

"All locked up in Purgatory. And some of the beasts too," Lucifer said while spoon-feeding me a bitter-tasting remedy that was supposed to help me heal faster. I resisted but he glared at me so I had no choice but to endure another spoonful. "You know, those fantastic creatures that Eve made. You can take credit for them, by the way."

"I was beginning to like them," I pouted.

"I can see that," he smiled. The light filtered in from the windows of the far wall, casting a fiery orange silhouette on his dark amber hair. Exhausted from the battle effort, his presence was the only remedy I could want for. Just him, sitting on the bed and talking to me. "Apparently, Purgatory is the destination for Leviathans and demented Earth-dwelling souls."

"And God made this happen?" An uneasy feeling stirred in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn't the soup.

"He finally decided to do something about it. After literally billions of years of letting our people die in wars against them… After everything we've done to get His attention, He's finally put His foot down to…" Lucifer paused for dramatic effect. "… ensure the continued survival of His favourite terrestrial species."

"Surely you're misreading the situation…"

"He saved you. I will always be glad for that," he took my hand and squeezed it. "I don't know what I would have done if you and Michael were… lost." He set down the bowl on the table next to the bed. I stopped short of releasing a breath of relief. "Do you know what He said after that?" Lucifer huffed sardonically, stroking his jaw. "'They deserve a second chance.'"

I was as perplexed as him, but clearly he was more distressed.

"He wants to give the stinking apes a second chance! After they disobeyed Him, spawned abominations and invited in the sea monsters who've been our enemies since the dawn of time," he ranted. He planted his palms on the edge of the bed. The fabric of the mattress bunched in his grip. "All I ever did was kill a few angels and He threatens to lock me up!"

I rubbed his bare shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"Is there anything they could do to upset Him?" he continued, his shapely amber eyebrows knotted in a frown. "I wonder if He would have done what He did if it wasn't Eden. If it was before the time of humans. Would He have just let you and Michael die?"

"Don't think like that…" It took some effort to speak. My voice was still a little raspy. "We can't answer What-if's."

He nodded, jaw tightening as he gulped. The emotion behind his pained look was like a knife that pierced my heart. I wanted to take it all away with a kiss, the melting of our lips being the first step in sharing our strength. But I feared even that wouldn't be enough. "All I know is… I'll never trust Him with your life, or the life of anyone that I care about, again," he vowed. _Oh Lightbringer, you shatter my heart into a million pieces with a single sentence._ "I thought that maybe you were right earlier about my plan to take over Heaven, but now I see that it is _exactly_ what I need to do."

"Are you sure about this?" I caressed his cheek and pushed away a few strands of his short curls. If anyone could have seen the absolute compassion in his eyes I saw then, they could never call him evil. That wasn't the face of evil. That was the face of someone who had been pushed to the limit. "There's no going back from this."

"There was no going back ever since I bore the Mark," he aptly responded. "I need to do this."

 _If this is what you want…_ "Then I'm with you," I swore.

"You're hurt, Sophie. I don't want you to get involved," his thumb stroked my chin. I rolled my eyes. _Stupid lover doesn't want me to help_ , I grumbled to myself.

In a swift move, I yanked his shoulder, bringing his face close to mine. On top of that, I reached for a dagger from his belt and held it up to his neck. "This is my fight as much as it is yours. You can't get rid of me so easily," I threatened, pressing the blade against his marble skin.

His eyes remained enlarged. His lips were frozen apart, not a sound escaping them. I may have been recovering from an injury, but that didn't make me completely useless. "Your eyes are deadlier than any dagger," he simply said, lips turning up on one side.

I laughed, dropping the blade. "Damn you," I cursed.

* * *

Ever since Eden was forcibly removed from the face of the Earth, the politics in Heaven only became more volatile. Angels looked upon the _Grigori_ with disgust, ashamed by their incompetence in the face of what Lucifer and I had done. This, to Lucifer and me, seemed like the perfect opportunity to recruit more angels to our revolution. However, God decided to give them a second chance, a blow to our recruitment strategy. This did not mean that the angels had any more sympathy for the Watchers. _God's mercies are infinite_ , the angels sang, all while scowling at and giving the Watchers a hostile side-eye.

Furthermore, now that Adam bit the Apple, death was something returned to the human race. Previously, God, prizing His humans, wanted them to experience an eternal life of abundance with us, the angels. Now that they were corrupted, God punished them with the capacity to die, although He promised redemption for those who sought forgiveness and obeyed His laws. This was obviously a way to stop the humans from utilising the gift of the Apple – the wisdom that came from my essence. _God's mercies are infinite,_ the humans began to sing as they prostrated in blind submission.

Now that Death had so many more living creatures to reap, God allowed Death to train a new generation of angels as Reapers. These reapers would lead human souls to their afterlife, which would be in Heaven. They even had their own facility where each soul was kept in its own room, free to experience its own form of happiness. These souls were highly powerful, an absurdity considering the fragility of human beings. And now Death would be able to control their entry into Heaven. I don't know the specifics, but the rumours said that there were disagreements between God and Death. God clearly got upset with Death, and in a shocking turn of events, had bound him to another realm. This just seemed to be God's default mode of dealing with people who disagreed with Him – banishing them to other realms.

These developments did nothing but worry me. Death was God's _friend._ Someone who regularly corresponded with Him. If this was what God was willing to do to him, friend or not, what would become of us? And another concern was that God had never been so proactive in years. Sure, we wanted Him to do something, but all His efforts were focused on earth, not Heaven. Talk about being counterproductive.

I paced about in a clearing in a forest, lost in thought. By now my wounds had all healed and I was back at full strength. "You have that look again…" Lucifer pointed out.

"Something's not right," I worried.

"It would be a strange day if something felt right to you," he mocked. I shot him a bored look. "I mean, sometimes you really do worry too much."

"And you worry too little," I rebutted. "One of us needs to think of the consequences."

"It's why Wisdom is named after you," he posited. "So tell me, Lady Wisdom, what bothers you this fine day?"

"Think about what God is doing. He trapped Death. _Death!_ " I exclaimed. "What could Death possibly have done to deserve this?"

"I don't know, killed His mood or something," Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly.

"Be serious," I bid him.

"Maybe Death was going to do something He didn't like. If you think about it…" Lucifer kept his gaze on the ground as he took a few steps in thought. "Death doesn't usually talk to anyone but God. But he's visited you twice. Maybe he favours you somehow."

"So God imprisoned him because he would have helped me in some capacity?" I speculated. "Great, now I know where I stand with God."

"I don't know if that's accurate. What's it matter anyway?"

"He seems a little… irritable? Harsh? I don't know if this is the right time."

"That's _exactly_ why this is the right time," Lucifer answered sharply. "It means we'll get more of a reaction out of Him."

"I'm not so sure that's a good thing…"

"What's the worst He could do? All of Heaven will be watching. And how He reacts is how they'll know what He's truly capable of," Lucifer seemed convinced. That fury in his eyes did not lie. He wanted answers and he wanted them immediately. His confidence was bold and daring, which was what I feared. I needed to look out for him and be a voice of caution when the Mark made him immune to it. Maybe this was my true role in helping him deal with the Mark. "You're still brooding," he noticed.

I sighed, hugging my arms to my body. "I think God knows it's us," I guessed. "He knew about the little scuffle in the forest before, so now He must know that we tempted Eve. Maybe rescuing me from Eden was a warning. Or a second chance. What would He think if-"

"See, that's the problem. You worry too much about what He thinks," he cut me off rather impatiently.

"How can I not?" I scoffed, glaring. "Who knows what He'll do to us?"

"What _will_ He do, huh? What will He do to us that He hasn't already done?" he challenged. His ideas tested God but his scowl seemed to put me on trial. "I'd like to see."

"This isn't a healthy attitude, Lucifer," I admonished. His lips formed a tight line as the words left mine.

"I don't understand," each word came out with force, treating me like a traitor. "Why does it matter so much to you what He thinks? What about what I think? Does that matter to you?"

"If it didn't, I would be married to your brother!" I snapped angrily at him. Every word of his hurt, especially when it was spoken with the force of anger seeking only to blame. And the fact that I even had to clarify this…

"Oh, is that what happened? Because I remember you signing yourself up for that, even when I told you not to!" he yelled. A tense silence fell between us with both of us staring daggers at each other.

"Fine," I relented rather curtly. "It _only_ matters what you think and not anyone else. Is that what you want to hear? That you are always right? If that's what you want me to say, then so be it. Stop yelling at me."

I swiftly turned around, finding a tree bark to lean against with my back to him. My body felt jittery and my eyes stung. I wanted to be angry but I was just… sad. I swallowed to hide the anguish, afraid that if I took so much as a breath, I would lose it. After everything that happened, I was stuck in an awkward rift between being the dutiful archangel and becoming persecuted for this revolution I needed to aid Lucifer with. As if the impending feeling of isolation wasn't enough, my only respite seemed to despise my words of caution as if I meant any harm. I felt… trapped.

"Sophia…" I felt a thick blanket of cold air approach. His hand brushed my shoulder but I pushed it away. There was a brief pause. He tried again, attempting to turn me around by the waist. I tried to push against his chest but he only held me tighter. "I'm sorry," he said when I stopped struggling. His eyes were as teary as mine. "I shouldn't have…"

"Why won't you know…" my voice was choked with tears, which ran profusely down my cheeks. "…that I love you?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, crinkles forming between his brows. He pressed his forehead against mine.

"You're always accusing me…"

"I don't mean to," he shook his head. "I'm an idiot. I just get so uncontrollably angry sometimes. It's not your fault. I'm so sorry."

"I'm hurt," I said honestly, tired of keeping it all in all the time. "I don't blame you but it hurts."

At this point, I couldn't even speak. I rested my head on his shoulder, breaking down and bawling. And we remained like this, entwined in each other's arms. When the flood of tears slowed down, I sunk deeper into his arms, kept safe by his gentle caress. We couldn't afford to be at each other's throats, especially now.

"We can't let all this hostility between us slide," he said, speaking my mind. "We have to fix this."

He cupped my cheeks in his large palm, holding my face like it was the most fragile thing. His thumb wiped away the dampness on my cheeks, drying them with nothing but kisses. It wasn't long before he pulled me into his lips, apologising with their soft strokes. He seemed to be sucking the air out of me, mercilessly leaving me to heave for a single breath as he finally let go. But this was no release.

Hands trailing down my back, he slowly sank to his knees, lips tracing my body. "Not in the open…" I begged with decreasing conviction. Every inch of me ached as much as he did for something more. "Someone might see us…"

"I don't care," his voice was but a moan, luring me deeper into his trance. I lost myself to him with every second. He paused, looking up at me. Those scarlet eyes reminded me of our deep and long history, from the moment I had surrendered in that first meeting. Every time felt like the first time with him – with as much awe and adoration as we had begun. Now he was poised in front of the flower that was his, ready to claim what belonged to him and him alone. "I worship at your feet, my love. Grant me your strength and raise me higher."

My heart burst with a warmth that was reminiscent of death – a death by pleasure that I was ready to receive. I wanted to give him all of myself and more. My hands ran through his dark amber hair in a silent assent. We both yearned to reaffirm our vows – ones we took in secret – in this mutual surrender.

"So that's how you've been controlling my brother," a third voice resounded. Lucifer and I broke away from each other, only to find Raphael emerging from the foliage. He narrowed his eyes accusatively, a sly smile turning his lips up on one side. He seemed more satisfied than shocked to find us in this suspicious position like he'd found a gold mine or something. "You've been getting him do your bidding, _temptress_?"

"Watch your tone, Raph," Lucifer threatened, pulling back his shoulders.

"Or what, is she going to explode me too?" he taunted, pointing at me.

My words were stuck in my throat as realisation dawned on me. "You? It was you," I stuttered. "You're the one who told God. Were you- were you _spying_ on us?"

"I always knew you couldn't be trusted, but you always kept your tracks hidden. Now I find myself in the right and I will do good on my promise – I will personally see to it that you get thrown out of Heaven," he snarled, bitterness laced with every word. "You're just as cunning and underhanded as your Mother. How unsurprising."

I wanted to carve some sense into him with my archangel blade. Lucifer beat me to it, pummelling his brother before I could think twice. I watched as Lucifer held Raphael with the collar on one hand and did his face in with the other. I suppose it would have been appropriate for me to stop him, but I enjoyed the scene far too much. And, as it turned out, I didn't have to – that honour belonged to Michael.

"Enough!" the eldest commanded, separating his brawling brothers. "What is the meaning of this?!" The intense glaring competition between Lucifer and Raphael could have sparked a forest fire. "These are times of emergency and my two brothers – two _archangels_ – are fighting each other? Have you two lost your senses?" Michael simply looked between the both of them, simultaneously confused and frustrated. Sunlight reflected off his silver exterior, and his colourless eyes bore a sense of sombreness. "Lucifer, apologise to Raphael for what you've done."

"What, me? No!" Lucifer huffed, crossing his arms. "He brought this on himself! Do you know what he said about Sophia? He said-"

Michael looked at Lucifer expectantly. "It doesn't matter what he said. You're his older brother. You should not have laid a finger on him," he said.

"No, as his older brother, I should beat some sense into him when he's pushing his limits," Lucifer argued. "The idiot should apologise for speaking to her that way," he grumbled.

"If that was what older brothers are meant to do, I'd be used to breaking your face!" Michael yelled. Lucifer seethed, chest heaving with anger.

"Is this your justice? He threatens to kick our Sophia out of Heaven, saying that she's like _Amara_ , and you just let it slide?" Lucifer challenged.

"Lucifer…" I stopped him. By now, I'd decided that neither brother would have the sense to stand down. Things would only get worse if someone didn't concede. "You don't need to defend my honour at such a heavy price."

"I cannot excuse this unruly behaviour from my little brother," he remained obstinate.

"It isn't worth it. Let it go," I advised. The last thing I wanted was hostility between the brothers. It was a long shot, but it seemed to have an effect on Lucifer.

"At least someone has the soundness of mind," Michael sighed. The tenseness in his shoulders dissipated, albeit only slightly.

"Sophia has a soft heart," Lucifer fiercely eyed Raphael. "Next time, you'll get what you deserve." Michael was next to receive the eyes of fire. "Do you find it so easy to choose between your siblings? Is that fair, as the oldest?"

That certainly hurt Michael. He reached out his arm to Lucifer's shoulder in what seemed like an effort at reconciliation, but Lucifer stepped back, defiantly avoiding Michael's gaze. And that was that.

* * *

All of us were gathered in the open, looking down on the earth beneath our feet. We floated as clouds in the thin partition between Heaven and earth, made possible by God alone. We beheld His creation at His command, observing the slow rotation of the planet about its axis. Everyone was present. No one would miss this spectacle.

"And now, Creation is complete," God announced from His position at the pinnacle of Heaven, bathing all of us in His majestic, warm light. No greater sensation existed than His presence. It was no wonder we always missed Him.

The angels began a slow song, their voices being the only instrument needed. Their gentle choir flowed like the wind and sang like the stars. It was like a calm before the storm.

"Behold the human race, our wards. Fallen into sin, though they are, they must be guarded," He commanded. His voice resonated within all of us, ingraining the order into our very being even if He wasn't physically present with us. "You will be their protectors, their watchers, their light in the dark."

Lucifer gripped my hand more tightly. He sensed that it was our time. Anticipation welled up within me, dreading the moment when it would all change. Here I stood, on the precipice of something great yet not knowing still how to feel. There was conviction and duty on one hand, and loyalty on the other – which belonged to whom was an interesting question by itself. The only thing that was clear to me was what needed to be said and done.

The five of us archangels were facing the extensive army of angels. I looked around us. Gabriel was expressionless. This was the first time we'd seen him in a while and he looked tired. I hoped he would look to me, give me so much as a reassuring smile, but he simply stared straight ahead. And then there was Michael, who was hiding his own troubles behind a grin to please his father. Raphael was undecipherable as usual, but at least he stopped scowling at me. He was more preoccupied with the scene before him. But it was Gabe who occupied my mind. Where had he gone? Was he alright? The only concern I had was that I had placed everything I had here on the line, and I still had one unsettled affair. _Him._

"Bow down to them, my children. Bow to the human race," God bid us.

Row by row, the angels sunk to one knee, heads bowed in obedience. Once they were all down in submission, it was our turn. First, it was Michael. Then, Raphael and Gabriel. I took a deep breath. Gabriel noticed both my feet planted on the ground from beside me. His head tilted slightly, frozen with the realisation that I wasn't going down. And neither was his brother.

"Is there something that the both of you have to say?" God questioned us, attracting the attention of everyone else. Prostrated though they remained, their heads jerked up to regard us. A great silence greeted us. All those eyes, waiting to see. Lucifer stepped forward.

"We refuse your command," he boldly stated. Gasps were sounded.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Michael whispered sharply.

"Why should a son of fire bow down before a son of clay?" Lucifer proclaimed.

"Because I command it. Will you not set aside your pride to fulfil my desire, my son?" God replied, ever so patient.

"Your desire is misdirected," Lucifer asserted, to everyone's shock. "Why should we, the mighty warriors of Heaven, serve a terrestrial species, let alone one that can do nothing but err in its imitation of us?"

"My son, you have always been my accuser," God announced. "You have always questioned my decisions and I have always entertained them. But now I ask faith of you, for the sake of your own redemption. Do you not accept?"

"I question you because you make questionable decisions!" Lucifer seemed unfazed by God's order. "I worship you, Father. Why should I submit before these lower creatures? They bit the Apple and you forgave them. They invited the Leviathans into the Garden and you forgave them." He huffed. "You even intervened directly! Banishing those monsters to Purgatory! Yet you couldn't spare a thought for me? Your own son?"

"And are you so free of blame yourself, Lucifer?" God inquired. "You tempted Eve, did you not? You went into the Garden when you weren't supposed to and you coaxed the humans to bite the Fruit."

Now everyone was truly horrified, eyes widened upon hearing this revelation. Lucifer remained unbroken, staring unblinkingly at the sky. "I did," he confessed, loud and clear. "I merely tested their faith. Isn't that what you wanted to do? See if they could resist the temptation of knowledge? I never forced the humans to eat the Apple. You all watched them willingly do that. What have I done but brought out their true nature?"

"Lucifer, that's enough!" Michael tried to shut him up. He seemed so defeated, more than anything. It wasn't anger but rather the realisation of what was to come. "Question Him all you want, but obey now."

"And you?" God's light seemed to target me. "Tell me, Sophia, what do you make of this?"

"Tell him to stop, Sophia," Michael pleaded. "Speak some sense into him."

All eyes fell on me. I stepped forward, hands clasped humbly. "I stand with him," I declared. Their glares wanted to burn me where I stood. I almost felt it like a thousand needles pricking my skin. "We love you, Uncle. And it is our love that bids us to speak nothing but the truth from our hearts to you right now. It is wrong, obscene even, for us to bow down to the humans like servants. We _are_ servants. _Your_ servants. Have you no regard for our dignity?"

"Do you really believe that I don't?" His voice emerged from the skies.

"I have little experience in the last few hundred years that would say otherwise," I honestly stated, baring my heart to Him. "It is time you heard us. All you've ever done is coddle your little apes, even at the expense of your own children. We only ask that you not humiliate us this way."

"Do you forget how you disgrace Sophia, Father?" Lucifer continued. "You forbid humanity to near the Tree that she made. A Tree, which was formed from nothing short of her love for you. Hear of this atrocity, everyone! How knowledge became a forbidden thing! This is humiliation too."

There it was. All our feelings laid out in the open for the whole world to hear. All the truth no one would dare speak. There was a strange sense of relief in this moment. A glorious unburdening.

"So the both of you have spoken your minds. You wanted me to listen, and I have. I will give you both one chance to stand down. Take it and do as you are told," He simply said. "Bow down to the humans." The air was still. I could feel the trembling in the crowd. Speaking up to God like this – in front of all of Heaven, no less – wasn't for the faint of heart. If this was a mere millennium ago, I would have fallen to my knees in no time and begged for forgiveness. But after all I'd weathered, I would shed fire through my eyes sooner than tears.

Lucifer and I held each others hands. "No," we said simultaneously. A few breaths passed. Thunder rumbled. The light from the clouds faded. A curtain of storm clouds drew to a close in the sky.

"No, no, Father, come back!" Michael begged. "Please!" He shot up to his feet, followed by everyone else. He was clearly seething and there was no mistaking the look of betrayal in his eyes that searched ours for some kind of deeper meaning. "Are you happy now?" he accused, focusing mainly on his brother. "You made Him leave! You think this is some kind of game?"

"Quite the opposite, brother," Lucifer answered, calm as ever. It was the calm of someone walking into death, knowing that there was nothing to be done but to move forward. "I am deadly serious. And we are not alone." He turned to the large audience of angels. "You have been witness to all of this. Do you not see, that Father willingly blinds Himself to His own wrongs? Isn't it our duty, as His beloved children, to tell Him when He is at fault? There are those of you who would agree. I know it. Come and join us, brothers and sisters. Show us how large our numbers are!"

I put my fist in the air as a gesture to our supporters. As we watched, there was a shuffling among the angels. There was a breaking of ranks and soon, we found ourselves standing in front of a large group of followers, some of whom we had recruited before and some who had newly found themselves at our side. It was encouraging to know that they were capable to seeing through the fabric of news fed to them, valuing truth over propaganda. This was the crux of our rebellion and I felt pride washing over any feelings of guilt I might have had earlier. There was no space for shame any longer – just determination. Who was I meant to be but an advocate of truth? This was my place.

"It isn't our place to doubt Father's plan," Michael insisted amidst all the movement.

"If not ours, whose?" I rebutted.

There yet remained a significant number of them who remained where they stood, not excluding the archangels. Raphael and Gabriel remained silent, retreating to their eldest brother's command. And so that was whom Lucifer brought his case to.

"Michael," Lucifer called out. "You saw how He abandoned me in my time of need. I'm asking you now, as a brother, join me. We don't need Him to rule Heaven. We're capable of doing it all on our own!"

"Take our side if you wish to have a say in the new order," I added. "They'll listen to you, Michael. And if all of us show God the greatness we are capable of, He will change His ways."

"Listen to yourselves!" Michael urged, running out of patience. "This isn't right. Don't take this further than it needs to be."

"I disagree. It hasn't gone far enough," Lucifer challenged. "At arms!"

At once, the army of rebels brandished our swords in a unanimous sweep, the clank of steel being as music to our ears. The others flinched, clearly taken aback by our sudden movement. I felt sorry for them.

"Pledge your allegiance," Lucifer ordered, pointing his lance at Michael. "You can join us in peace, or leave us to take Heaven by force."

"What will it be?" I asked, scanning the three archangels. The people I grew up with – practically my brothers. I wanted the warmth of their company. Their support. I had all the hope in the world that all of this could resolved so easily if they just joined us. I beckoned Gabe with a look but he only glowered in return. I felt a weight tugging at my chest at the sight of his discomfort. _Please join us,_ I begged with my gaze. His seemed to accuse me of disappointment.

"I can't let you do that," Michael replied. He too put his fist in the air. "At arms!"

Now we were standing on opposite sides, Heaven split by dissidence. Brother against brother. Friends against friends. A few years ago, if I'd known I would be the cause of this ruthless slaughter of my own kind, I could have died of guilt. But now, I see that this was the only way left for things to become right again.

We charged. It was chaos. Surely, God watched from above, waiting for a victor. What was He thinking? That we _should_ slaughter our own? Lucifer and I were separated in the fight, engaged in our own combats. I leapt over a corpse, driving my blade into an angel's neck. Instant death. I sensed another approaching me from behind. I spun around, only to see a blade driven into her back. Angel grace dripped from the tip protruding from her chest before the blade vanished, retreated. The angel fell, revealing none other than Gabriel. I opened my mouth to say something but he just took off into the distance, never to be seen on the battlefield again. A trail of bodies left in his wake, I could only stop and stare as the fighting of angels intercepted the distance between us.

The daze couldn't last long. I was hurled back into the fighting almost immediately. At one point, a group of ten angels charged at me and held me down. I heard Michael say, "Just give up now! We can still fix this!"

I took in a huge breath. "No!" I exclaimed, as I pushed my wings out as hard as I could, all three pairs of them, stretching them to their full width, flinging the angels away in all directions. I threw my archangel blade at an incoming angel while driving my fist through another to my left. I reached out my arm to summon my blade while I rushed Michael. I slashed at his chest while he deflected with his long staff, which had its own blade at the end. A short sword could not last very long against a lance like Michael's, especially when he was one of the best fighters to ever exist. But I was fighting for dear life, so these odds had to mean nothing. Big mistake. His lance caught my blade as it came down on him. With a flick of his arms, he knocked the blade right out of my hand. His movements were so quick they caught me off-guard. All I felt was a sting on my shoulder before I even realised he'd cut me.

There, he had the opportunity to end it all. With a single strike, he could have killed me, driving the lance straight through my heart. But he didn't. He only cut my shoulder. Even after everything, he wanted us to surrender. He wanted us to live. _Michael, you should have been the one to understand._ He struck a second time. Again, with every chance to end me, he'd only chosen to knock me off balance. I fell backwards slightly before regaining my footing in the air.

He stood over me. His eyebrows twitched, undecided between a frown and sympathy. "You leave me no choice," he uttered.

"Do it," I said bravely, though inside I was shivering like a leaf. He raised the lance. To think that so much could have been prevented in this moment. It felt strange remembering this time-point on the battlefield. The lance was driven downwards.

A grunt escaped my lips as I felt myself being shoved to the side. I looked back. An angel had pushed me out of the way. Her body arched backwards, twitching awkwardly in pain as the lance pierced her chest. The explosive light of death shone beneath her eyes. I silently thanked the angel for her sacrifice, finding myself with a renewed appreciation for life. Before Michael could end her suffering, I took off. There was no way I could defeat him all on my own, especially with angels attacking me from all sides.

I was reunited with Lucifer, who'd been leading a charge against Raphael. Things did not look good. Our forces were being pushed to defence with every moment. The loyalist army was cornering us increasingly. If we didn't get out, that would be the end of all of us. As I found myself at their side again, sheer panic coated the air like a thick blanket. Lucifer and I stuck by each other's side, poised to attack. But the army, knowing we were encircled, neared us slowly like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. Something had to be done immediately.

This was truly the strangest of moments. There we were, with nothing to be done but surrender or die, and an idea popped into my head. An idea not of my own making, if that made any sense. It felt like it was given to me. But by whom? In that instant, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that it was there at all. It was our saving grace. I used my blade and cut my palm.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer asked, flustered. His face was smothered by dirt and grime and angel grace.

"Getting us out of here!" I chanted an Enochian incantation with the words flowing as though I'd known them before. I felt a strange energy overcoming me – some kind of divine intervention. It wasn't like God's Light, or Amara's Darkness. It was… different. My essence seemed to be charged with this foreign energy and I spilt it on the blade. With a fell swoop, I slashed the air and what do you know, I ripped open the fabric of space and time. Following my lead, the rebels flooded into the portal, soon followed by Lucifer and myself. The last thing I saw was Michael and Raphael charging towards us before I fell into the portal and closed it. I collapsed onto the ground in the silence undisturbed by battle.

All energy seemed to have been sucked out of me in waves and I still felt it in my core. Lucifer took me in his arms and lifted me up to a standing position. I leaned onto him, panting heavily. _Never doing that again._ "You did it," he said. "How did you know to do that?"

"I… I don't know…" I honestly said, shaking my head. I looked around. We were in the front yard of my homestead. Funny how the wormhole should take us to the place I felt safest in. The angels stood about, as dazed and confused as we were. But they grew to accept the absurd situation, thankful that we had bought time for ourselves.

"We don't have long till they find us," Lucifer stated, addressing our supporters. Despite our losses, we still stood a sizeable number. The angels were worn out from the battle, some injured and some losing hope.

"We mustn't give up," I told them as I broke away from Lucifer's hold to stand on my own. I staggered to near them. "I believe we still have a chance at winning, even though it may be slim. We need to do something drastic, something that will force the archangels to stand down."

"I could make a stun bomb," said Hassiel, stepping forward. It was good to have a master weapon-maker on our side.

"Good, get on it. I should have all the things you need inside. Get some angels to help you," I ordered. Hassiel nodded. "Meanwhile, I'll try to conjure up a binding spell. The rest of you can get some rest and recuperate. But be ready."

We were all on-edge. Things could escalate again any time soon. Lucifer tried his hand at healing those who needed healing. I rummaged my library, looking for anything that could help. With no regard for order, I pulled out several books at once. My tables were decorated with open books and I tried scanning several of them at the same time, as if doing so should help me draw connections. What alarmed me more than the little time we had was the fact that I felt drained. It was that spell. That strange spell that came out of thin air. We were nowhere close to winning and I just couldn't afford to give up now, fatigued or not.

I thought I'd found something. It would be a difficult spell to perform, but if I tried hard enough, I could possibly weaken the enemy forces. _Enemy forces._ That was what they had become to us. Even if we did surrender, there would be no repairing this rift. It had all fallen apart right in front of us. I had almost died on the battlefield at Michael's hand. But there was no time to reconcile this absurdity. There was only us and them. Any confusion could mean death. I shook my head to dispel the thought.

"Get down!" someone yelled. I felt someone's arms grabbing me and pulling down to the ground. A large boom sounded and a sudden wave of hot air crashed against me. I opened my eyes. A giant gaping hole stared back at me from where there used to be a wall. Tendrils of fire lay strewn about where I'd once been standing, trailing all the way from the hole in the wall to a bookshelf on the other end of the room. I heaved heavy breaths. There was no escaping brushes with death that day.

I pulled myself back onto my feet, recognising my saviour with a mixture of relief and bewilderment. "Gabe!" I recognised. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you, what's it look like? You're welcome, by the way," he answered like it was no big deal. Before I could ask any more questions, he grabbed my hand and lugged me towards the back door of the house. More explosions sounded and I flinched. The tiles on the floor came crumbling down around us, set ablaze by the attack. My heart felt hollow, watching my beloved house fall down around me. It seemed like pieces of me were being chipped away with every pillar, every banner, every book that burned right before my eyes. All my precious memories, reduced to ash and dust. What else hadn't numbed me by this point?

"What are you doing, Gabe?" My voice was meek, choked by sadness. I let myself be dragged by him. It was one final reminder of what we used to have. Him, excitedly bringing me around in all the time we spent together. But now there was no excitement. Only terror and loss. "Why did you leave earlier?"

He paused by the door. His burdened shoulders eased. His glass-like irises were shiny with tears as he turned to face me. "I don't want to be a part of this war," he sighed. "I'm tired of watching all of you fight."

His innocent sentiment put me on trial. "Then that is your right," I told him. We stood in silence for a moment as the world fell apart around us. It was like we knew we had to cherish this moment forever. "What will you do now?"

"I'm… leaving," he informed me with words as heavy as the lips that spoke them. "I came to say goodbye."

"But… but where?" I protested. Every part of me wanted to fight for him to be at my side. I reached out a hand, hesitantly at first, towards his face. Seeing as he didn't resist, I rested it against his cheek. Whatever strength he used to barricade his emotions seemed to crumble at my touch. "You shouldn't go if you don't want to."

"I have to," he insisted, holding my hand to his face. "I can't stand this anymore. Nothing's going to get better. I'll find my place somewhere else. It'll be hard, but I'll try to make it work." I was speechless. If this was his decision, then I could not stop him. Even if it drove a stake through my heart. "Come with me."

"What?"

"I said, come with me," he pleaded. "You don't need to be a part of this. Let's run away, Sophie. And never look back."

"I can't do that, Gabe…" A tear defied me and ran down my cheek.

"Why not?"

"I… I need to be by Lucifer's side," I answered. "I can't leave him to fight alone."

Gabriel swallowed back tears as he simply stared at me with what I thought was sympathy. "You always loved him more than anyone else," he remarked. "I don't blame you. He was always smitten with you too." Amidst the welling up in my eyes, I managed a slight frown. "Think I didn't notice?" he huffed a smile. "I was always the third wheel, remember?"

I didn't know what to say to that. Perhaps I always knew deep down that Gabe was aware of these things. And he didn't appear… ashamed or horrified. "You know I care about you too, right?" I asked. "Is there anything I could do to make you stay? Here, at least, with Michael and everyone else. You should be home, with your brothers."

"You have a good heart, Sophie. But I've made up my mind. Heaven isn't home… like this," he insisted. "I'm sure this war wasn't what you had intended. Because this isn't you. It isn't me either."

By this point, I couldn't help but break down. He pulled me into a hug and I huddled close to his chest. I just couldn't bear the thought of him being… gone. "I'll miss you," I managed to say among the tears.

"I'll see you again. Someday. I hope," he whispered. When he pulled away, it felt cold. The door opened in his grip. He paused on his way out, looking back at me for the last time. His lips curved up on one side. "Take care of my brother."

I rushed back to the yard in the front, only to find that Lucifer and the angels weakly holding up a magical barrier of sorts, while Hassiel and others hastily threw at the oncoming angels whatever they had. It was a pathetic defence against the rain of fire Michael and Raphael brought down. For a while I'd stopped and stared at how the rebels still tried to keep their position. They were deeply engaged in the battle with Lucifer at the helm, charging and attacking whenever possible. The odds did not look good from my vantage point. But here I went.

I pulled back my shoulders. I took a deep breath. I spread my wings and I rushed at the approaching troops beyond the battle lines, creating much-needed distance between us. With what I'd gathered earlier, I began the promised spell. The incantation seemed to draw more and more energy with every word I spoke. Foolishly, I tried to continue with the spell, in hopes of pushing myself to the fullest extent. Better to know that I had tried my best rather than lose without that reassurance. The winds raged around me, bringing with it dirt and leaves and stones. I became a part of the atmosphere. I felt its lull, its ebb and flow. My life drained into the air as I sought control. Tendrils of my energy sought them out – the opposing forces. I felt Michael first. Releasing a sharp exhale, I tried to strike him down with a bolt of lightning. A sharp thunder shook the Heavens as a bright spear of light surged through the air to immobilise him.

But he… he merely reached out and grabbed the bolt. His consciousness fought mine for control and in the grand struggle, he won. He electrified me with a single thought, sending flashes of agony throughout my body. I screamed. I screamed so loud that the trees turned grey and fire erupted in the skies. When Michael finally decided to let go, I was sent careening backwards. I landed roughly, friction burning my limbs as the force of my fall dragged me along the ground like sandpaper on wood. I groaned softly. My throat burned and was tired from screaming. My wings weighed so much that I couldn't move. Black spots invaded my vision but the things I could see made me wish I couldn't at all. I saw how badly my limbs were injured, how my wings appeared dull and fractured. And then I saw Lucifer rushing over to me, eyes wide in terror as he gathered me in his arms.

His breaths were shallow as he searched for words to say. He couldn't find any. He simply held me close, enveloping me with his body.

"Fine! We yield, we yield!" Lucifer yelled. I turned my head. Through blurry eyes, I saw Michael and Raphael approaching.

"It's too late, brother," I heard Michael say. "The damage is done."

"She needs help. Michael, I'm begging you," Lucifer pleaded. "Help us. Please. You're my brother. Take my side."

"How I wish things could have turned out differently…" Michael trailed off. "But you made your choice and Father must punish you."

"Then do it already!" Lucifer snapped. "Kill us. Show us His justice!"

"Father doesn't want to kill you," Raphael's voice came through clear. "He has a plan for the both of you. From here on, the both of you, and your army of rebels, will be under permanent exile. You will be banished to the underworld known as Hell."

"No," Lucifer shook his head. His grip around me tightened. "Don't do this, Michael. You don't have to. This is our home! Just help us, and we can go to God together."

"We're way beyond that point." Together, Michael and Raphael had bound us and cast a banishing spell, written by God himself. A gaping hole opened up beneath us, revealing the green earth below. Lucifer shot his brother a look of utter disappointment and hopelessness, shocked that God had chosen this as our fate. Without any mercy, Michael struck at us with his sword, evoking a bolt of lightning to strike us. I heard Lucifer's anguish. I felt him holding onto me as if relaxing his arms an inch would mean my death. And he could have been right. He was in utter denial up till the point that we were shoved out of our home.

And so we fell. _God's mercies are..._


	12. The Damnation

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 12: The Damnation**

The skies parted. We were but bright specks of light hurling towards the earth at the speed of sin. The heat hurt. But I probably didn't even feel the worst of it. I was barely lucid. Images swirled in and out of vision. I don't know how it must have felt for the other angels with us but I imagine my drained strength dulled the intensity of the experience of falling towards Earth like a meteor. The only constant was the pull of gravity and Lucifer's protective arms around me. The ground was like an open sore as it shifted into a gaping hole. It revealed a vast darkness that put the vivid green beauty of the earth to shame. We fell… and we fell… for the beginning of an eternity. We fell into that pit of misery and guilt known as Hell.

The darkness consumed us in its uncomfortable embrace.

I don't remember when we landed but we did, somewhere, somehow. The heat enveloped us like a thick blanket and I recognised the source of this heat to be a sulfurous flame by the smell alone. Lucifer had set me down on some raised platform and sat down against it. We had remained like this for years while he tried to heal me as and when he could. What were years compared to the lifetime of angels? What were years spent in Hell compared to those on earth? Not a word was spoken between us during this time. The most obvious of reasons was that I was physically unable to move for most of this period. That platform had practically become my bed and every part of me ached to even twitch. Lucifer would have given me the herbs I needed to heal more quickly but incidentally, I was the only person who was capable of spawning such life forms in Hell. Instead, he ordered some of the Fallen to go earth-side and scour for the needed plants.

Another, less obvious, reason was Lucifer himself. I couldn't imagine what he was feeling. He was so uncannily quiet and lost in thought. It was eerie. No one dared approach him. From my spot, I could only hear the distant wailing of our fallen brethren like a demented chorus. It reminded me of the chorus we heard just before the rebellion, when the angels sang praises of God. Strange how perceptions change so quickly. I found myself asking why something borne out of love had damned us for all eternity. Maybe there was some deeper meaning to this. Was it repentance? Did God want us to appreciate our lives more? Surely, this was a temporary punishment. Maybe He would come visit us and tell us of our wrongs. I felt so numb. I had just disappointed yet another divine parent. My heart stung with the thought that I'd become so lost. Life felt… directionless at this point. Maybe that was partly why I didn't get up for a long time. What was there to see when God had turned away from me?

The other angels were in a much worse condition than us. Some had died during the fall, some had damaged their wings, and some were not fortunate enough to regain their footing on any platform and thus were left burning in the sulfur. We did get them out eventually, but their sanity had been lost on them. And as I learnt, sanity for angels became more and more of a loose concept. The angels were in absolute torment, crying out desperately and getting into petty arguments with each other. It was not a good time.

Lucifer had soon gotten to work. His commanding presence hadn't been changed by the Fall. "Get to work, all of you!" he ordered. "Build me a palace."

"Fallen into shame and you think you can give us orders?" an angel scoffed. I turned my head to observe the interaction, the first of any movement. "I'm no slave of yours!"

Lucifer marched up to the angel, his gait brisk and threatening. I'd never seen him move so quickly and tensely before. It was almost murderous. He grabbed the angel by the throat and lifted him up. The poor angel floundered like a fish out of water in his grasp, wearing a shock-riddled expression. The others gathered around, trembling at the sight. "Think you're too good for a pile of rubble, do you? I think you might be too good for life itself. I'll be happy to relieve you of the shame," he growled.

"N-no, archangel, no," the angel begged, hands clamouring at Lucifer's.

Lucifer simply threw the angel at the crowd. He landed noisily at their feet, causing them to flinch. "Listen to me, all of you. You will do as I say, and build me a goddamn palace out of this rot. Because that's what we all are now. Damned by God Himself," he scowled. "And you, scum of Heaven, will make me King of the damned ruins if I will it so!"

Without anything better to do, they did as he said. Lucifer assumed his seat against my stone bed again, a knee pulled up as he cynically eyed the angels going to work. Every now and then, he yelled at them for taking so much as a second in between tasks, even beating them into submission. Admittedly, even I flinched from time to time at the sound of his anger. It was painful and I barely recognised him anymore. What would I even say to him? I felt like I failed him in every way possible. I was supposed to make sure this didn't happen – that he didn't devolve into this monster consumed by his own rage.

I managed to shift my hand slightly. I rested in on his shoulder. He was momentarily startled but soon relaxed at my touch. I traced his shoulder, his neck, his ear and his hair. He felt like a solid mass of ice, colder than I'd ever known him to be before. I hadn't even noticed the wisps of cold mist emanating from him until then. They seemed to flow in waves, seeping off the edge of the platform and into the deep abyss below. As I found out later, he had single-handedly created the lake of ice in the Ninth Circle of Hell by simply being this way.

He simply watched for years as the construction went on and on. There was always this large radius around us that no one dared enter. I think Hassiel did at one point. He slowly approached, beckoning to Lucifer to ask for permission to see me. Though hesitant, Lucifer relented. He took a few steps away, watching us with folded arms. Hassiel said some words of comfort that I barely remembered, though the concerned look on his face as he regarded me will forever be etched into my memory. He took my hand and placed something in it. My thumb traced the ridges of the solid mass. I knew what it was – the bronze hawk that he had so passionately carved for me. It must have been lost from my person during the Fall. "Thank you," I whispered, unsure if even a word made it through my lips.

He simply nodded and retreated, getting back to work. Lucifer's scarlet eyes followed the angel before returning to me. This was the first time I was granted any relief from pain. The hawk heated up in my hand. I only had to take so much as a breath – its energy filled me like an elixir. Life flowed through me again, healing some of my wounds. It felt like a fire had been awakened in me. Unable to believe it, I actually sat up. I looked around myself. A quick peek over the platform we were on showed me that the edge extended infinitely downwards, leading only into the blue flame of the lake of sulfur. I thought I saw a burnt, dislodged wing stuck on a rocky scaffold. _Sucks to be that guy._

The hawk's eyes glowed an emerald green in my hand. _Hassiel, you genius._ Whatever metal it was made of, it could channel my energy, serving as a battery of sorts. I tried extending my wings. It didn't hurt anymore. What a relief. My feet quivered slightly as I shifted my weight onto them, pulling myself into a standing position. Lucifer rushed over to help me but I was adamant on doing it on my own, taking a step down with only a hand of his. I looked up. The angels all stopped and stared at me. I didn't understand why then, but as it turned out, they had all thought I was dead.

The angels had grown quieter from this point. No more unbearable wailing, although that didn't make the torment of Hell any easier to bear. The pain of Hell was not physical – we were all still intact and perfectly capable of survival. Instead, Hell was a place that brought out guilt and shame. Indeed, it was a place meant for repentance and reflection, but to do so would be to confront one's repressed emotions about one's own crimes. In such a dark and lonely place, it was only the deepest and darkest parts of oneself that could be known with clarity. But somehow Lucifer seemed more peaceful than everyone else. He had no guilt or shame about his actions, only disappointment in the way things had turned out. It was like he knew he belonged here and that worried me. He was already making it his home, designing it in his own vision. He wanted to rule the ruins, he'd said.

What my feelings were on this matter, however, could be summarised by what I did next. I took a few more steps forward, free of Lucifer's grip. He, like the others, simply watched as I carefully strode. First, down the steps of the raised platform and then, through the crowd of labouring angels. Just like that, I put one foot in front of the other. "Where are you going?" Lucifer called out after me. His words fell on deaf ears. My legs just moved and soon I found myself standing on earth again, breathing in its fresh air.

I closed my eyes and extended my arms and wings far out to my sides, relishing the feel of sunlight on them. This natural warmth, unpolluted by an unholy substance as sulfur, comforted me. I retreated to the forests of the earth. There, the damp smell of grass, the sandy texture of soil and presence of trees overwhelmed me. Nature, my shrine, my creation, my power – being in its presence made me break down and bawl like a little child. I missed it so much. How the forest received me with open arms. Its aura connected so seamlessly with my consciousness that it was like being welcomed into the warm embrace of the sun itself. I cried a literal river into existence at the feeling of being rooted into the earth. I was so taken with emotion that I had to consciously control my powers lest let the river grow into a flood that would wipe out all the life and trees. I just couldn't have that. Instead, I slowed the river into a gentle stream that enriched the life of the forest and formed smooth pebbles.

I found a nice, large tree that grew to such a height and width that was never reached by any tree in existence after that. Using just my hands and feet, I climbed its grey bark like I always had as a child. I had no better way of explaining the sheer relief I got from this. Being in a forest, it was like becoming a new organism – I was one with all of the trees and creatures and we were as a single deity. Every breath of the forest was a breath of mine. It was like being in a cocoon – safe and sound. So I crawled onto a thick branch, lay my weary head on it and went to sleep.

* * *

What was sleep to a thing like me? A temporary suspension of consciousness for a decided amount of time, that's what. Although, I still remained connected to the forest. Any strange movement in the forest would immediately alert me and I'd awaken. Luckily, that didn't happen. My little nap was unimpeded, which I wasn't sure was a good thing. I didn't know how many nights and days had passed by the time I woke up. On some level, I didn't want to know.

When I finally roused, a rain had just ended. I lazily sat up. I was now fully healed, replenished by the earth. Somehow I'd felt worse than before I went to sleep. I supposed it was time I returned to Hell to continue my eternal damnation but a bitter feeling grew within me instead. It should be normal that one would try to avoid eternal damnation, perhaps, but if I accepted my fate, I had to face it. It was my obligation.

I found myself aching for a sense of familiarity. As I walked through the forest, I kept reminding myself that Gabe would not come to me upon a single message, that the angels would not oblige my command, and that my house no longer existed. Perhaps that hurt the most. Those sturdy foundations and encompassing roof no longer existed as my sanctuary. My home within my home, lost in the embers just like the chances of returning to Heaven. Every memory, every laugh, every kiss within those walls – it all burnt me with a single thought.

Hell soon appeared again. When I returned, there were stone walls and hallways, banners and carpets, torches and thrones. This came as a shock to me, considering that it was still a pile of dirt when I'd left. Now there was a roof over my head. Admittedly, it looked well-furnished, for a place where the air was always stale and smelled of shame. No one should underestimate what Lucifer could accomplish with his iron will. As I walked down the hallways, I noticed that no one was here. _Where did everyone go?_ I quickly found out.

There were two large metal doors, unlike any other I'd seen so far. Curious, I placed my palms on them. With a resolute shove, the rustic doors swung open before me. And this was the moment of truth. Their noisy chatter stopped abruptly as their heads turned to me. It was a large and long room, with several pillars creating a wide isle in the centre. In between the pillars on the same side were chairs on which the Fallen had taken their place. And at the head of the isle, on a platform raised three steps, were two thrones – one directly in the centre and the other to its left, tilted slightly towards the centre. And on the main throne sat my Morningstar, gaze furious and posture regal. A King not to be messed with.

"Sophia," he uttered my name, surprised. His posture eased as he stood. I approached. The room was eerily silent as the angels watched and heard my every footstep. I halted at the centre of the room at some distance away from the throne. No doubt my unkempt appearance from wallowing in the woods was not something anyone wanted to see near a throne. Lucifer looked at me as he always did – with worry and concern. I reciprocated the feeling wordlessly.

"It is customary to kneel before a King," an angel interrupted our unspoken conversation.

"Pledge your allegiance, archangel," another snapped in a tone I'd never known an angel to speak with. Again, I was reminded of the debilitating effects of Hell on all beings save archangels. They'd become like savages, brought to heel only by Lucifer's command.

"You've been away a while," another hissed. "I reckon she's conspiring against us!"

Not long after, they practically burst into an uproar, demanding that I be constrained in some form or another. I flinched, shocked to the core by the pure bitterness they were capable of. Shackles, dungeons, pits of spikes – these were all things they suggested. And Lucifer had made all of this possible?

"Quiet, all of you!" Lucifer bellowed. They shut up immediately. "The next person who talks to their _Queen_ in that way will have their head on a pike!" Some of them visibly shrunk in their seats. I followed their wary gazes to the ceiling and surely enough, I found… heads mounted on pikes. The sight was gory, hideous and made my stomach turn. Tongues dangling out of their mouths, eyes upturned – a shudder threatened to shake me. My gaze glided downwards to find Lucifer's again. With the softness I saw in them then, it would have been impossible for me to tell that he had done this. And then I realised: maybe that was the problem. "This court session is adjourned. Don't jump off the edge, morons."

The fact that he even had to say that… what even was this? Lucifer proceeded down the steps with an authority and confidence I couldn't find in myself.

"Come with me," he ordered, guiding me with an arm around my shoulders. I said nothing as he led me in some unknown direction. We went up some stairs and then some more stairs until we reached the highest floor. It was considerably quieter here, peaceful even. "This is our floor. No one will disturb us here."

He showed me to a room he called ours. It was spacious with a bed against one wall and other furniture. There was a smaller room inside, in which he proceeded to draw a hot bath. He helped me out of my clothes and into the warm water, taking a seat himself next to the large, round tub.

"Where did you go? I was worried that something might have happened to you," he spoke. Perhaps the distress in his voice was the first thing to ever sound normal since we fell.

"I just needed to recharge," I replied, refusing to meet his gaze. I busied myself with washing off the grime of the earth.

"You look better," he remarked. "Healthier, I mean. Whatever you've done, it's worked."

I supposed he smiled but I was too drained of will to notice. His hand traversed down my back, using the hot water to accelerate my task.

"Talk to me, Sophie," he pleaded.

"What do you want to talk about?" I simply asked, now working on my legs.

"Anything. Just say something," he begged. "I missed you."

"Don't…" I trailed off. My eyes stung. My heart ached. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. He kissed my head, making his way down to my cheeks and lips. I was powerless against the thief who stole my breath. The King who commanded my love. The killer who murdered my sanity. He dug deeper, his tongue enslaving mine. Soon, his arms lay siege, invading my thighs. As much as I craved his love, I just couldn't bring myself to enjoy it. Before he could lean into the tub to join me, I couldn't help but push him away. He stopped immediately, appearing troubled. "Sorry… I just can't… not now…"

He retreated dejectedly to his seat. "Did you even want to come back?" he asked, a tremble in his voice.

It was telling that I had no answer to that, just an incomprehensible mumble. Seeing the pained look on his face gave me second thoughts. He shifted in his seat, sighing and rubbing his face. "I'm not going to leave you," I finally said after an improper silence. "I was put here to suffer, same as you. I'll not run away from my fate."

"We don't have to suffer," Lucifer said. I shook my head in disappointment. Had he really lost it this time? "Suffering is a choice."

I huffed. "I'm sure your loyal subjects can testify to that, Your Grace," I scoffed rather sharply. Done with my bath, I got up, legs dripping with water. Lucifer handed me a towel, not bothering to hide his annoyance. His lips formed a thin, pink line and his eyebrows grew forebodingly neutral.

"What I mean is-" he began as I stormed off in search of clothes. He followed me with measured steps into the room. "Father put us here because He thinks we'll suffer. He wants us to suffer. So that we might repent and seek His forgiveness. And for what? Daring to speak against Him? Isn't that ridiculous?"

"I don't know if it's that simple," I answered, shrugging. "I don't know what to think."

"Exactly. He'll never give us a straight answer. So we have to make of it what we can," he said firmly. "Here-" he reached out and pulled open a closet door, revealing an array of dresses which I'd never seen before. They were all long and flowing, just the way I liked them, and in different colours and designs. He pulled out one in black and held it against me. "I had them made. Just for you. Oh, and-" I held the finely-made cloth, wondering how he'd gotten such a fine quality, as he rummaged inside for something else. He brought out a small, flat box, from a pile of several others and opened its cover. The necklace and other ornaments radiated a gold shine from inside the box, like small stars in a dark galaxy. "A Queen must adorn only the finest of dresses and jewels."

I cradled the box carefully with both palms, admiring the craftsmanship. It was all so elegant, so beautiful. So unfitting of a place like Hell, just like the rest of this castle. Even in my state of distress, I couldn't help but admire the jewellery. Lucifer always did pamper me like this. But now? "Is that what I am now? A Queen?"

"You are. And you will be," he swore. "When you walk down the aisle and the Fallen bear witness to our union. God and all of Heaven will watch as we say our vows."

He seemed so hopeful and if it had been any other circumstance, I would be overjoyed. I would be ridden with tears of joy just imagining our love being on display for everyone to know. But there was something he was missing. A near fatal misjudgement that only I had the foresight to see. "Is this really… the best thing… for us?" I dared ask. Again, I could see the hurt fighting its way to his face though it really wasn't what I had intended. It hurt me too to say it but I had to.

"You don't even want to…" he assumed, eyebrows contorting into the pained look of an injured puppy that he had.

"It's not that," I rushed to defend. "Of course, I want to-"

"Do you even love me anymore?" he snapped. I was frozen in shock that he would even think that way.

"Lucifer-"

"Of course you don't. What was I thinking? I've literally dragged you down to Hell with me," he turned around, exasperated, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

"Listen to me!" I begged. "You're not thinking right about this."

"Oh it's me, is it?" he cut me off before I could explain further. God, talking to him could be such a struggle sometimes.

"Is this really the time? When we've lost everything? All our family, friends and home?" I yelled, tired of getting my voice unheard.

"It'll never be the right time if you waited for everything to come back, because it won't! Don't you see that we're finally free of them? Free to do whatever we want? So then it just boils down to whether you want it or not," he rebutted, throwing his arms up. "Do you, or do you not want us to be wedded?"

I took a deep breath. Everything I said seemed to be going over his head. But my flustered silence only angered him more. I had no idea how to get my anguish across but I tried anyway. My tear-choked voice fought for an exit as I said, "It's not about that. We've just been humiliated. Kicked into the dirt by people who claimed to love us once. They're looking down on us with shame as we speak. Everything we do will be wrong to them, don't you see? I don't want a marriage that they will use to debase us!" I spoke until I heaved for breath from the hurt it caused me. "And I don't want a marriage just because _you_ want to spite them! I remember when we took our vows in secret because we only needed to promise ourselves in each other's eyes and that was enough for us. Isn't it enough anymore?"

By the time I finished my tirade, my vision was blurry and my cheeks damp. Yet, the steady up and down of his tense shoulders was evident to me. "I know they humiliated us. Believe me, I know," he uttered those last words slowly, agony etched into every one of them. "What do you want me to do about it? Sit around and cry all day? Find a nice spot in the ground and hibernate? I'm angry, Sophia. I am _so_ very angry."

"I noticed," I said, crossing my arms. "Is this what you want to become? A merciless pillar of fire?"

"I will _burn_ them for what they did to us," he vowed, eyes glowing with an intensity that matched hot lava. "I will show them that this will not faze us!"

"And you think our sacred union will prove them wrong?" I pointed out sharply. "You think playing at being a King will do anything?!"

That had an effect on him. A rather disastrous one, I might add. He seethed so much, the torches in the room erupted with fires that shot to the ceiling. "You think I joke?" he scorned. "I will build my kingdom. I will amass an army so great that we will be at war with Heaven for centuries to come. I will oppose Heaven however I can and when my time comes, I will lay waste to them!"

"Do you learn nothing from what happened?" I shot back. "It is a mercy that they did not kill us when they did! And you want to provoke them further?"

"If they thought that I wouldn't retaliate, they should have just killed me. Father thinks He can whip us into submission with this! How can you be okay with that?" he questioned. "What about our cause? What about hard truths? Or did you leave your integrity in Heaven?!"

"I value your life more than the truth!" I yelled. "Even if you are too consumed by anger, too foolish, to do it yourself!"

"I don't care what happens anymore, Sophie," he growled. He seemed almost confused that I was concerned at all, like it meant nothing. It truly dawned on me how far gone he was, unable to even understand that my concern was valid. He'd never been so adamant before. The way he looked now… he probably wanted to kill something. And this rage was all for me? For the fact that I wanted him to be unharmed? His anger seemed so out of proportion that I wasn't even sure what to say or do next. The Mark blared like a siren only I could hear, with waves of energy shooting outwards. It was now more powerful than ever. "Michael too claimed to care about me. And then he turned around and stabbed me in the back. Now _you_ are singing the same tune."

"How dare you," I uttered pointedly. At this point, I couldn't control my own anger anymore. Every word that came out of his mouth stung me and I couldn't take it anymore. "How _dare_ you suggest that I would do such a thing?!"

"Oh, I dare. See, that's the difference between you and me," he accused with a finger pointed at me. "I dare to say things people don't want to hear! So if you won't help me, then don't stand in my way!"

With that, he stormed off like a hurricane. I was paralysed where I stood as a whirlwind of emotions took control of me. At some point, I heard a loud crash – the sound of something breaking – and flinched. Was he so angry _at me_ that he would get physical about it? I rued asking the question because I soon found the answer.

After a period of deliberation and general sadness, I threw on the dress and went out into the hallway out of pure fearfulness for him. With the way that he was, I worried that he might do something drastic. Technically, I wasn't wrong.

The hallway on our floor was empty. I entered the armoury. Weapons were neatly arranged against the walls, leaving a large training area in the middle. Hassiel had made all of this possible, no doubt. And if I knew Lucifer well enough, there had to be a secret compartment somewhere for his more prized weapons. _Boys and their toys._ Next, I checked the room at the end of the hallway which was set up for more strategic work. It resembled his office, with bookshelves and tables and all that. Still, no sign of Lucifer. But I did find a broken table. It was a large, thick table with an exquisite design. It had been ruptured straight through the centre. I traced the fractured wood with some apprehension, as if touching the impacted spot was akin to feeling the scald of his force on it. _Such a shame to ruin such good craftsmanship,_ I thought. With barely any effort, I repaired the table, returning it to its unimpeded shine.

I treaded down the stairs to the lower floors. Perhaps he was in the throne room. A sharp noise pierced through the air, like a tight slap. It sounded faint from where I was. It seemed to be coming from the basement so I ventured there, finding this dungeon that I kept hearing about. It was considerably darker in here but perhaps that was the intention. The green light from my irises lit my path until I found several blue orbs looking at me. Some of the Fallen had gathered here ominously at the entrance. As soon as they saw me, they cleared a path in the middle while staying near the door to the rows of cells. Again, I heard that sharp noise and they flinched. This time, it was followed by a screaming. I gulped, unsure of what I was walking into. The Fallen had pulled up hoods on their robes, holding the cloth to their cheeks forebodingly. They remained silent, just lurking in the hallway.

My entry into the dungeon was unhindered. The green rays of light from my eyes scanned the cells in an attempt to find the source of the chilling noise. Ironic to word it that way, since I knew I was heading in the right direction from the fact that it just got colder and colder deeper in the dungeon. There was one cell with a door slightly ajar. My mind couldn't decide between speculating what I would see and remaining unanswerably blank as I approached. Ready to enter the darkness, my fingers gambled with the door, pulling it open as quietly as possible before I stepped inside.

Lucifer's muscles seemed to enjoy the movement, easing into motion with every swing. The whip cracked again, tearing apart the angel's flesh. He screamed, a shaking mess on the stone floor. The angel huddled in the corner, arms and legs full of open wounds. His face wasn't even visible – he'd buried it in his curled body. Lucifer barely made a single noise, relishing every moment. His aura was a violent mix of composure and destruction, something I just couldn't understand. I would be lying if I said it didn't frighten me. It left me quivering on the inside to think that this was the amount of anger he felt after our conversation. This was him, taking it out on someone else, because of something that happened between us. I wanted him to stop. But the words were caught in my throat from the fear of what I would see in his eyes if he turned around to face me.

As it turned out, I wouldn't have to say anything. The scarlet ray of light from his eyes met the green light of mine on the same spot on the wall. "You shouldn't be here," he uttered with a calm that held many mysteries.

"I think…" my voice quivered. "This is exactly… where I'm meant to be…"

His grip on the whip shifted. His thumbs circled the hilt, like he craved just another swing of the arm. If that was what he wanted so bad, he would get it. I plodded to the far wall of the cell where the angel cowered. "What are you doing?" he questioned, frustrated eyes fixed on me.

I simply knelt before him. "If you have so much anger…" I began.

"Stop this…" he ordered. He already seemed to know where this was going.

"Show me how it makes you feel," I ended my sentence.

"No," he rejected. "Get out of here, Sophie."

"Anger should be repaid to those who inflict it," I advised. "If I have upset you, then it is only fair that you hurt me in return. Not anyone else."

"Sophia!" he said my name in full this time, complete with the vexation that had built up inside him. It only seemed to infuriate him more.

"I don't need anyone else to take my punishment for me. Here," I turned around to face the wall. "You don't have to look at me if you don't want to." I undid the laces on the back of my dress, holding the cloth to my chest for the sake of modesty. I pulled my long, dark hair to my front to reveal my bare back. "Do it," I commanded him.

I heard a few heavy breaths. The tightening of his grip around the hilt. The elastic tension of the whip. I readied myself for the sting of the lash, even closing my eyes. And then it came – the sudden sound of a smack. I flinched. My back was unhurt. I chanced a look behind. The whip lay on the ground, angrily hurled against a wall. Lucifer was nowhere to be found. The angel dared to raise his head. I had never seen so much terror in anyone's eyes before.


	13. The Demon

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 13: The Demon**

My days were spent between Hell and earth. It was always a forest on earth or our room in Hell, never an in between. Lucifer and I saw each other so rarely that 'our' room became 'my' room. I'd glimpse him from time to time, like a phantom in the corner of my eye. There would be an aching tugging like a string between us but we'd both painfully ignore it. He'd be in his study most of the time and if not there, the armoury. I'd be laying all alone on the bed or on a tree branch somewhere, unwilling to get up for days at a time. I felt like I could just dissolve into nothingness if I willed it so. On some days I did, but the uncertainty of the future made me hold on.

Inside, I was dried up like a desert. My mind was a drought, tired of crying my heart out for someone to hear me. And even if someone did, I wasn't sure I could even speak. Every time someone tried to talk to me, I always seemed to snap at them. Between Lucifer and me doing that, the angels didn't dare approach either of us. In that regard, I preferred talking to God. He never responded. I could say anything – yell anything – into the air and I knew He was always listening. "I always thought you knew me best," my raspy voice sounded through the comforting noise of rain and flowing water. I had a good view of the river from my seat on a branch against the tree bark. "So who am I supposed to be?"

The soft crashing of water against the river bank lulled me into a trance, luring me deeper into the forest spirit. A chirping interrupted my nap. I opened my eyes to see a small bird poised on my toe. It sang a tune to initiate conversation, its melody inviting and friendly. It had a beautiful rainbow-coloured body and such fluffy feathers that it appeared merely as a ball of life. Its beady black eyes even appeared happy to see me. I exploded it with a look. Blood and feathers splattered everywhere, causing other birds in the area to flee from my general vicinity in a single, hurried frenzy. I took a few deep breaths, witnessing the result of what I'd done.

"Does it even matter?" I continued. "Does it matter who I am? Did it ever?"

A single coloured feather floated its way down in front of me. I held out a palm, letting it land in my hand. I studied the lustrous colouration it bore. So much variety this earth had to offer, I thought. "Do any of these creatures matter to you at all? It feels like you just made them to please the humans. You made us perfect and them, imperfect. Do you really not see why I can't grasp your decision?"

The skies cried a silent assent. I sighed. I leapt down from where I was, feet landing with barely any noise. As I walked back the way I came, I spotted a wolf, some deer, rabbits, more birds – typical forest creatures. I killed them all. It wasn't because I hated them. It was the opposite – I loved and admired them. I even petted some of them. I just wanted to see if anyone cared. In the grand scheme of things, the lives of these animals didn't matter. They weren't part of the correct phylogeny.

In the back of my mind, something Lucifer said began to make sense. We couldn't let the shame of falling from grace faze us. What life could possibly be lived in such ignominy? Right now, I lived like I was dead, without anything to look forward to, without anything to give me purpose. I was an empty shell and I couldn't take it anymore. I longed for this monotony to end. In that regard, Lucifer seemed way ahead of me. He was out and about, trying to find his own meaning in Hell while I simply wallowed in my own misery.

My mind and body were as one in their yearning for him. I felt at war with myself, torn between the hurt he caused me and the need to see that he was okay. Falling was somewhat of a humbling experience. It was a brutal confrontation of what really mattered to me in the end. My possessions, my home and even my family had been left behind. But Lucifer – he was the only constant. The only sense of self, the only frame of reference, I could come back to. And I supposed I was the same to him. I'd alienated him from himself as much as he'd done the same to me. We were as one being amputated into two halves. It felt like a part of me was missing.

I would bear it no longer.

* * *

The stale air caressed my bare legs as I carefully traipsed down the hallway. It took me a few months to prepare for this but I wanted things to be perfect. I'd made this dress myself and despite the rush of heat to my cheeks, I'd forced myself to sit through the entire process of it. Never in my life had I worn anything so skimpy. Luckily, this floor was only occupied by us. The dress was black, sticking tightly to my chest but loose below my waist (not that there was much cloth going down from there). I'd picked the freshest flowers from the earth to adorn my hair with – jasmine and rose, mainly. Flowers that he liked. I wore the _kohl_ he'd given to me as a gift under my eyes. A simple pendant I'd found in a box of jewellery hung from my neck. One look under my dress would reveal the droplet-shaped black tourmaline on its end.

I took a deep breath. My feet came to a halt at the door. His muscular back faced me, a hand held behind his back cordially as he seemed to be browsing a bookshelf. My palms itched to trace the grooves and ridges on his back. For a moment I just watched him be, just to relish a moment of his existence – something I was grateful for every day. I was about to knock on the open door when he realised something was different about the air. It must have been the flowers. He spun around to confront the intruder but when his eyes came to rest on me, they froze. They widened ever so slightly, roving up and down my body. My chest rose with a heavy breath. This was what I wanted. A look that he could never say 'no' to. I felt fondled by his crimson eyes alone, like hands that spared no inch of me.

The air was silent, awaiting his judgment. His gaze simply fixated on my chest, as they so often did in moments like these. I held up a finger in front of my bosom, beckoning him to approach. Mouth agape, his legs blindly followed. I took a step back and his chest sunk with the same frustration I had. I turned away from him, gliding as a gentle breeze down the hallway. My hand traced the wall like a further invitation to the heights we would be reaching. I chanced a look behind and surely enough, found him pursuing me with the same anticipation. His fingers soon approached mine where it traced the wall and caught them, like a hunter catching his prey. His iron grasp threatened to annihilate as he pulled me closer.

I felt his freeze as he neared to a lethal proximity. His cheek rested against my temple. He took a whiff of the flowers which lent their seductive aroma to my hair, savouring it as I did his touch. I cradled his hand between both of mine. Locking eyes with him, I simply pulled him with me as I continued down the hallway. Impatience was all I could taste, between his yearning breaths and the tingling on my body from his searing eyes. We'd barely gotten through the door to the bedroom when he locked it shut with a thought. His hands instinctively fumbled with the laces on my back, unravelling them.

Before I could become fully exposed to his siege, he spun me around and caught my waist. Now our bodies were against each other, beginning to feel whole again. My hand moved up his chest, finding solace on his shoulder. His attention shifted from my eager hand to my face which he now looked at – really looked at – for the first time in the longest period of unwanted isolation. His thumb caressed my cheek. The tightening and relaxing of his throat muscles as he gulped only teased me more, leaving my lips ajar for invasion. As if sensing my desire, his lips tormented me, choosing targets on my forehead and cheeks and even the bridge of my nose instead.

My grip on his shoulder tightened to beg for mercy. This time, he was benevolent enough to spare me a long death. His mouth closed over mine, stealing my breath. The seconds were lost to time, never to be recovered again. Somehow I found myself being lifted by his strong arms, pulled only closer into his embrace. He walked us over to the bed, which welcomed my body as mine did his. My arms encircled his shoulders in an eager wish to be consumed by him. I was already halfway there, with his body on top of mine.

His hands slithered up my torso and unwrapped his black-clad present. He remained knelt on the bed as he savoured every minute of my vulnerability. I took my chance, caressing his neck as I made a line of kisses down his torso. I didn't stop until I undid his pants and took him in my mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, sucking and licking as I'd done so many times before. The sound of his exhales and soft gasps made me go harder, give it all I had. I felt him holding my head gently, keeping the hair away from my face as I did my work. Soon, I slowed to the tip, my lips enveloping him with kisses as I stared deep into those red irises.

He pulled me up to his face, slowly kissing me. He leaned onto me and without a choice, we fell back onto the bed. The dim light of the candles made him seem monolithic over me as he held my legs apart, teasing my entrance. His fingers tickled the inside of my thighs to torment me further. I groaned softly and arched my chest toward him, begging for absolution. That always won his favour in moments like these. When I least expected it, he plunged into me and I quaked with every inch that I felt. He pounced onto me, lips attacking my chest and my neck. Then he began his rhythm and I was lost forever.

We kissed audibly and breathily, taken by a manic lust. Our hands grappled for each other and began a parade of abundant squeezing and pulling. The smacking of our bodies against each other pushed me further and further into our energetic performance. I repeated his name over and over to aggrandise his ego, that he might take me to limits I had never been to. He thrust harder and faster and words lost structure on my lips. Now it was all short of a cry of helplessness. I drowned in a sea of danger and invited the expanse to consume me. His mouth dug into my neck. His hands held mine down, imprisoning me. My legs wrapped around his waist as I contributed in what little way I could.

He lifted his head and rested his forehead against mine. We bridged the highway between his frustrated eyes and my defenceless ones. My moans for release and his forceful grunts met in the final pushes. Slow but determined, few but impactful, we melted in each other. A cold wave of his release filled me up and sent an outbreak of shivers through me. My breaths grew shallow, thirsty for more, and he delivered in return for more kisses. We kept going this way, slowly enjoying each other. My body trembled when he finally decided to pull out, protesting the emptiness he would leave. But he more than compensated for it afterwards.

The flowers had given up nestling in my hair and now lay strewn all over us and the bed. We lay in a pool of love and comfort, wrapped in each other's arms. I could want for nothing more than this moment. In between slow kisses, we paused. And this would be the difficult part. One of us would have to start speaking. I would want to begin but I often floundered at the sight of his sharp jawline and thin lips, preferring to kiss them than start conversation.

"I'm sorry about the things I said," he began. I forgave him with an aching look. His was equally regretful. "I shouldn't have spoken that way."

"I'm sorry too," I added. Our voices were but whispers only meant for each other. "I didn't mean to sound cynical."

"You were right. All I want to do is spite them. I want to make them realise their own blindness. That shouldn't be the basis of our marriage," he confessed. "We'll do it only when both of us are ready."

"Thank you," I kissed him again. "Don't ever say that I don't love you."

"I won't," he promised. "I'll only say that I love you too."

I managed a smile as I caressed his cheek. "Can I still be your Queen?"

"Always," he said, now grinning. "It is your right."

"You'll need help running a Kingdom," I elaborated. "And someone to keep you company during court sessions."

He hummed in relief, pressing his lips against my temple. "What changed your mind?"

"I…" I closed my eyes to word the answer accurately. "I had a realisation… I can only keep you safe by being at your side. Leaving you to do this alone will only put you in more danger. It's one of the reasons why I helped you with the rebellion."

"Your concern is incredibly touching," he assaulted my lips with forceful kisses, almost lulling me into a trance. "I know this isn't the future you envisioned for both of us."

"It doesn't matter anymore," my lips curved to comfort him. But on the inside, I felt a pang of pain. "We have to make do with what we have. Right here. Right now."

"Speaking of making things…" he started, a guilty smirk lighting up his face.

"Lucifer…" I warned.

"Would you ever want to, you know… give me a child?" he chanced a question.

"I would love to bear your children," I admitted sincerely, looking him in the eye. "But…"

"I- I get it," he cut me off before I could talk about the inevitable backlash. "But just… think about it. We used to be so worried about what the others would think or say but now… we can do whatever we want. They've already decided that they should disregard us."

I exhaled. "Let's focus on one thing at a time, alright?" I suggested.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "Just imagine, though. A little 'us' running around." I chuckled at the thought, only feeding into his enthusiasm. "I could show him – or her – how to fight. You'd teach them how to read. When the time comes, it'll be three archangels on three archangels…"

"No child of mine will fight in any war of yours, King of Hell," I calmly cut him off.

"If it please you, my Queen," he sighed. "Not even one?" I glared at him. "Fine…"

* * *

Again, I found myself on earth. This time, I felt like a new person. I'd shed the baggage of the past, mostly anyway. Though I did feel more whole after reconciling my feud with Lucifer, the ambiguity of my identity still remained. I'd built my whole life around discovering truths and it felt so dissociating to be suddenly divorced from it. And because of what? Trying to find the ultimate truth – the mind of God Himself? As I found out, this… held greater consequence.

I had departed from my favourite forest, now emboldened with the spirit of discovery. I roamed deserts, oceans and mountains. There was a solace in feeling the grand scale of everything. Living creatures were made so tiny but their homes were so huge, like palaces built for royalty. Life itself was something to be treasured so this made sense. I liked earth. Despite the focus on humans that Heaven would have, it was actually a pleasant place to be. In any case, there was a significant portion of the earth that would go unnoticed simply because humans weren't there. This allowed for my uninterrupted strolls, which I greatly enjoyed.

On one such stroll, I came upon something interesting. There was a tiny island in the middle of the ocean. Floating above the sandy continental mass was a glowing spark of some kind. _Strange._ I'd never seen anything like it before. Its light was celestial, unbefitting of a terrestrial realm like the one earth was in. Not that celestial objects could not exist in this realm – it was usually of angelic origin. But this object… I had never seen it in Heaven. What angel could have made this that I wouldn't be aware of? Again, not that this was impossible. It was simply unlikely.

I approached the spark. A soft ringing noise grew louder as I drew closer, like an invitation. That's when it dawned on me that this thing was other-worldly. It just did not feel like it fit in with the universe. It felt more like a ruptured fabric, a fissure in time and space, according to my intuition. It was not supposed to be there. All these inferences came to me at once even if I wasn't sure what evidence I possibly had to think this way. It was the feeling you'd get when you just knew something but you didn't know how you knew it. A nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you of what lay ahead. Typically, that voice would warn of danger. But looking at the spark – its light so bright and pure – I could not doubt it that way.

My hand reached out. The spark was receptive to my presence, undulating with my hand. It appeared to be attracted to me. I touched it and it burst like a bubble in a bright cloud. A wave of energy caressed me. A series of images invaded my mind, showing me a reel of familiar concepts. _Patterns of evolution?_ The object seemed to have contained information. I was taken by a daze, surprised by the experience. This random sighting of an unknown celestial object happened to reveal to me a crucial piece to the puzzle of the evolution of life on earth, which was information privy to only God and… myself. How did this end up here? And to think that if I hadn't stumbled upon it when I did. Were there more? Information left out in the open like this… it wasn't good. It was possibly dangerous. If it was discovered by the wrong people, it could be used in the wrong way.

And wasn't it my job to stop these things from happening? A bolt of nervousness coursed through me, threatening a shudder. I felt possessive of this celestial object. I needed to protect it from unwanted attention. As I returned my attention to where the Fragment of Light, as I called it, was, I found nothing. It had disappeared. Perhaps my making contact had returned it to oblivion, where it should be. There was a silver lining, after all.

I roamed the earth again, this time on the lookout for more of these fragments. Surely enough, one popped up in sight. But this time, I wasn't alone. I took cover behind a large rock, staying as quiet as possible as I peeked around the corner. I saw the fragment floating high and mighty in the sky, blaring a signal so distinctly that I was aware of its existence from miles away. However, I'd been beaten to it by a group of fallen angels. I saw them, mischievously smirking and lurking as a crowd. They seemed to be looking for something. Had they come to investigate this mysterious fragment as well?

My breaths raced to a crescendo as they neared the fragment. Disappointment that I could not save it from their unbalanced minds bubbled to the surface. But as I watched, they simply marched past it as if it did not exist. I didn't know whether to feel shocked or relieved. Maybe confusion was the appropriate response. How did they not notice this loud, illuminated object in the sky that just begged attention in every way? Was I the only person capable of seeing them? When the coast was clear, I collected the fragment and stared at the direction in which the angels went. What were they doing on earth anyway?

I followed them with a safe distance between us. Some time later, it became obvious what had enamoured them so much. They were headed towards a human settlement. The encampment had several tents, radiating outwards from a central fire. It seemed the humans had multiplied quickly as their population number seemed to have recovered from the debacle in Eden. Adam was among them, looking aged with the lines on his face and greying hair. As the first to fall from grace, he would also be the first to die a natural death. But he wasn't the focus of the angels. They seemed to be observing all of them and the _Grigori_ as well, like some kind of reconnaissance mission.

In that case, I decided it best I not disturb. The best person to question regarding these things was sitting on a throne in Hell, so that's where I went next.

Torches lit up on the damp, dark walls of the corridor upon sensing my presence. The grim agony resonating in the atmosphere was a stark contrast from the silent and colourful grounds of Earth. I found a door and upon entering it, I found Lucifer seated on his intricate throne at the far end of the room. I approached him, noticing that he appeared to be in deep thought, with his eyes directed to the wall and chin resting on his knuckles. _Bored, more like_. Upon spotting me, his eyes lit up and he approached. "Where have you been?" he asked.

I sauntered over to a small decorative table overlooked by a pair of crossed daggers on the wall. "Earth, as usual," I sighed. I turned to face him to continue the conversation but found myself immediately bumping into his solid chest. Before I could make some kind of remark, he swooped me into his arms and silenced me with a kiss. It wasn't an ordinary kiss either. It was deep, ravishing and knocked me positively off my feet. Heat surged through me in flashes and before I knew it, I was kissing him back too. Had I not regained my senses, I would have completely succumbed to his temptation. _That Devil._ Finishing a kiss but deeply persuaded to continue, I stopped him. He stared in mock confusion, as if those crimson eyes were innocent of all crime. "What are you doing? Someone might see us."

I glimpsed in the direction of the doors to the throne, though still a prisoner of his arms. Typically, the Fallen loitered about, doing whatever it is they wanted to do. Anyone could see us here. "Sophia, I will make love to you on the damn throne if I please," Lucifer firmly stated.

I gaped. My mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. How was I supposed to proceed with conversation after that? "Please… don't…" I weakly muttered. My words seemed like a lie compared to the redness I felt in my cheeks.

"There's no point hiding it now anyway. We're as damned as damned gets," he reasoned. "It can't get worse. It's literally the only good thing about this."

"It can always get worse," I cautioned. I took a deep breath to shake off the shyness and pull away from him. "Anyway, I saw something strange today." I recounted to him my discovery of the fragment and what I thought of it. He listened intently, eyebrows creasing and hands folded. "… so I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think… that you need to let go of the past," he said blankly.

"What?"

"Love, do you see what you're doing? You're cleaning up a mess because you think it's your job. Your 'God-given' duty," he grumbled, complete with air quotes. "God kicked you out and stripped you of authority. You don't need to continue serving Him."

"This isn't about 'serving Him'," I retaliated. "It's my responsibility to the universe. I am the Keeper of Knowledge and I must protect the universe's secrets."

"No, you _were_ Heaven's Keeper of Secrets. Not anymore," he disagreed. "Let it go."

I frowned. This was absurd. "No!" I crossed my arms defiantly. "I won't stop until I get to the bottom of this. And I need your help."

"Alright, fine. No need to get upset," he held up his arms in surrender. I hadn't even realised I sounded so snappy.

"Sorry," I apologised. He simply blinked and nodded. _Alright, that'll have to do._ I led him by the arm to earth. Once there, I looked for another fragment. This one was atop a mountain range. "Do you see it?"

Lucifer squinted in the direction of my gaze. "See what?" he asked.

"That!" I pointed in the direction of the fragment. Again, its light was so bright like a microcosmic star and it radiated the dull ringing noise that alerted me to its presence. "You don't even hear it?"

"What am I supposed to be hearing?" he seemed sincerely puzzled. It was a cute look on him and one I often saw when I talked about my work.

"Okay, so that proves that only I know they exist," I pondered, eyes transfixed on the spark as I further contemplated it.

"Are you sure you aren't just… seeing things that aren't there?" Lucifer worried. He felt my forehead and neck with a hand as if to check my temperature. "Are you alright? Maybe it's the Fall or… Hell?"

"Yes, Luci, I'm fine," I sighed, pushing his hands away. "What could it be?" I neared it. Letting my curiosity get ahead of me, I simply walked around it in a slow circle. Perhaps observing it from more angles would reveal an insight. "Feels a little familiar in its energy signature if you ask me…"

"You know, you're letting Him win this way," Lucifer lamented again. "You're letting Him think He can just expect you to clean up His mess."

"It's not His mess," I declared.

"What?"

"I said, it's not His mess. It doesn't feel like His energy," I informed him. "It reminds me of me, actually. What if this is _my_ mess?" I grew visibly worried. "Then I _must_ clean it up."

"How?" Now he seemed flustered, like I was silly for even thinking such a thing. "How can this be _your_ mess? Explain that to me. When did you do this?"

"I don't know. Stranger things have occurred to creation," I rebutted. "Like the Fall of two archangels from Heaven."

"What have you brought onto this earth but beauty and nature?" he questioned. "If that were to cause a mess, don't you think these _fragments_ would have shown up in the past few billion years?"

"Hmm…" What he said made sense. The natural course of time would have exposed such flaws resulting from my actions. "What if… this was caused by something recent? And what would have the power to release such fragments into the universe?"

"Well, that certainly narrows things down," Lucifer remarked dryly. "And by that, I mean it doesn't. At all."

"Sh." I needed to think. "What did you say happened to Eden again?"

"God snipped it out of this realm," he answered, doing a scissor gesture with two fingers. "He brought down His divine scissors and glued it somewhere else. I bet they don't have a fancy throne there."

"All that creation… just gone to waste…" I muttered under my breath. "All that effort…"

"He probably couldn't handle another reminder of how much you loved Him, let's be honest," he speculated, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Imagine looking at Eden every single day, wondering why you put the archangel who helped you make such a beautiful thing in Hell…"

"What about the Tree?" I realised. "What happened to my Tree?"

"Oh… about that…" Lucifer hesitated. "I didn't want to tell you earlier…"

The way he was nervously rubbing the back of his neck made me nervous as well. "Tell me what?"

"It- It's gone, alright?" Lucifer blurted out. "It's… destroyed. Dead." My heart shattered at those words. I must have appeared evidently mortified because he came over to comfort me. "Sorry to break it to you. I know how much it meant to you."

"That's horrible," was all I could say. Lucifer rubbed my back and I leaned my head onto his shoulder. "How could… ugh… This makes me so mad…"

"Oh He's done it now, hasn't He?" Lucifer noticed. "Is that all it takes to make a patient angel sour?"

"If you think you can use my anger for whatever it is you want to do…" I warned.

"What, show God how ridiculous He can be sometimes? Tell me you don't want to," he argued. "Tell me this doesn't make you realise that we need to do more."

"Now's not the time to discuss this," I dismissed. "So the Tree was destroyed. What of its essence? God said it was a unique life-form."

"You think it's causing this?" he probed.

"That would explain why only I can see it. But it should also mean…" A new thought surfaced. A prediction. I needed to test it.

"Mean what? Finish your sentence," he demanded.

"Sh. Just- just stand here, alright?" I led him to stand directly underneath the fragment. "Close your eyes." He obliged, obscuring his red irises. "Tell me, do you feel… anything?"

"No," he sounded disappointed, arms folded.

"Give it time. Really open your mind to the universe," I instructed. He took in a deep breath. Some moments passed. I waited eagerly and just as I was to give up, his eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

"Sh." I frowned, not used to getting shushed. "I'm getting something. An insight." He held up his finger to beckon me to wait. "Something about… geology? This is so strange. It's like this information is just hanging in the air, waiting to be plucked like-"

"A fruit?" I completed his sentence. He opened his eyes, puzzled as ever.

"Yes," he exhaled but still remained in awe. "I guess we've gotten to the bottom of this mystery."

"So God didn't actually destroy the Tree?" I guessed.

"Does it really matter? He ruined it and now the 'fruits' are everywhere, ripe for anyone to harvest. What. A. Mess," he complained. "Get angry, Sophie."

"Anger is meaningless," I argued. "It doesn't get anything done."

"I _beg_ to differ," Lucifer replied. Now that I really looked, he seemed more like himself again. I wanted to rejoice internally but I remembered how easily his mood could swing these days because of the Mark. It was difficult to tell if he was getting better because the Mark always sprung surprises on us like that. As quickly as my enthusiasm had arisen, it faded away. I would just have to cherish these short moments whenever they graced my existence. "Speaking of, it's my turn to show-and-tell."

Sometimes I hated being right.

* * *

"I had an idea," Lucifer said. We were back in Hell and he brought me into some arena where there was a large open space surrounded by a gallery to spectate. What exactly was this intended for?

"Those words worry me," I told him. "Why'd you build this place anyway?"

He bared a toothy grin as he extended his arms out to emphasise the grandeur of the place. "My very own fighting pit. For when I'm bored," he boasted. "I always thought Heaven could use a bit more brawling."

"You've never mentioned that," I pointed out.

"Yes, because my brother would fault me for 'being unprofessional' and 'glorifying violence'. But come on, a good fight is a necessary fight," he tilted his head at me.

"If you say so," I simply answered. I was neutral on the whole topic. Lucifer was a great fighter – one of the best – and he had a great passion for it. I suppose it made sense that he should think this way. Funny how eternal damnation allowed him to live out his dreams. "So your idea…"

"I sent some of my soldiers to retrieve something for me."

"Is that what they were doing? I thought they were just spying on the humans," I questioned.

"So you've seen them, then. Yes, that was also one of my orders," he nodded. "Ah, there they are."

Through a large door to the arena entered a group of them, all solemnly silent. They had those hoods up which I'd seen them have in the dungeon. It was quite eerie, seeing the angels so tame when I knew they were capable of being the vilest with a moment's notice. What darkness lay behind their suffering eyes? They didn't come empty-handed. One of them carried an unconscious human woman, dangling from his arms as naturally as gravity allowed. _They managed to kidnap her?_ Surely, the _Grigori_ must have noticed. I turned to further inquire about this situation but Lucifer was gone from my side. My gaze flipped back to the arena. He appeared among them.

The air grew still. The angels placed the woman on the ground and formed a circle around her. They stepped back to leave the King himself alone with her. The Lucifer I saw in that pit was not the same one who was standing next to me mere moments earlier. I felt the Darkness calling out from the curse on his arm, sending out waves of a cry to be heard. It was times like these that made me question who was really in control here – was Lucifer's impulses feeding into the Mark, or was the Darkness seeding these thoughts in him? His expression was like a wall – nothing could be read from it. He simply watched the young woman as she lay on the ground. She soon roused, eyes crinkling as she regained consciousness.

The first thing she noticed was how cold it was. Her hands instinctively moved to rub her arms to warm them but only clouds came from her breath. She even moved to pull her wolf-pelt garment around herself more but soon came to the horrific realisation that it had been taken from her. She lay a naked creature, ready to be reborn. Then she understood blindness. Her eyes blinked several times first in disbelief that there was nothingness as far as the human sight revealed. What appeared to us so clearly did not register at all to her. It must have been disconcerting for her to wake up in a void of space.

The angels murmured something among themselves. The woman let out a shriek of pain and rushed to cover her ears with her palms. The angelic frequency of existence could be too overwhelming for the human senses, if not channelled right. What the angels were saying was largely uncoordinated, but from what I could tell, they were cursing her under their breath. "Curse", I say, but to them it was a blessing unto her.

"Shush!" Lucifer hissed, annoyed. The angels fell deadly quiet. The human's head rose from where it was buried between her knees. Her body shook, her cheeks were damp, and her lower lip quivered. All this building tension only fed into their lust for fire.

"W-Where am I? What's happening?" she stammered. Her voice was brittle and choked. I saw an angel's eyes so beast-like that he would have probably devoured her if his King had allowed it. A common bloodlust ignited them. It was evident in the way they stood, arms and fingers tense and ready to pounce. Some licked their lips, in anticipation of the sweet fear the she reeked of.

Lucifer knelt down to her level. Within a split second, she'd caught his flaming gaze. It was the only light she was allowed to see. The way he looked at her… he knew exactly what he hoped to accomplish. His thin smile was sinister and curious at the same time. I knew that smile. Nothing good came from that dastardly smile. "What is your name?" he asked with a serpentine tongue. Her head jerked up, trying to find a face to identify. But she would see nothing.

"L-Lilith," her soft voice echoed. "Who- Who's there? Where have you brought me?" she asked with ever-growing nervousness.

"Shhh… you will get your answers soon," Lucifer promised. "Today is the day you will be reborn, Lilith."

He started small. With a touch to a forehead, she only saw death. Her chest rose up and down irregularly, heart racing at an inhuman speed as these visions took her by storm. Her every sense, her every thought was invaded with nothing but images of human death. Murder was born as an idea in her head. What it meant permeated her every being – the ability to take another's life, to cause them such devastating pain and to watch the life fade away from them. She was forced to contemplate it with no relief in any avenue except the one that pushed her limits further. The poor thing curled up into a ball to escape her mind to no avail.

"Do you know what depravity means?" Lucifer prompted her. "Know it now."

He let this go on for quite some time until she trembled less. It was like she had just given in, letting herself get carried away by the violent current of thoughts that ambushed her mind. This was a human being at the lowest form of dignity. A human who could no longer distinguish between good and evil. A human who cared less and less, wanting only for the torment to stop. But there was still an inkling of resistance in her. There was a small light in her that still wanted to be good – something that told her she wasn't right and things had to be different. And if I could see it from my distant position in the gallery, how clearly must it have appeared to Lucifer…

Lucifer snapped his fingers. Instantly, shackles bound themselves around her wrists. She cried out for him to stop but her words were irrelevant. Now that she knew what suffering looked like, she could only imagine what it meant for her limbs to be spread out and her body exposed. Lucifer manifested a lash in his palm. This one was different from the one I'd seen before – it had little spikes along its length, intended for double the pain. That was really telling to me. Every detail about this place was his idea. Being here, watching him… it revealed to me things I had never known he was capable of. Perhaps on some level it frightened me. If he was like this now, how much of this had brewed inside his head before the Fall? How much of this disturbing portrait was born within him right in front of me? A voice in the back of my mind told me it was probably best to stop him. But this _depravity_ , as he put it, wasn't something one could come back from. That much had been made clear to me in Hell. Once you'd felt the freedom of this sickness, how could you want anything less?

He brought down the whip. Her scream pierced the silence. Her wrists struggled to react to the wounds on her body but the shackles strictly forbade them. The barbs on the whip dug into her skin, drawing blood like a fountain. With every breath, she only whimpered more for release though it must have become obvious to her by now that this was just the beginning.

Lucifer drew back his arm swiftly, yanking the whip out of her. And so it continued.

I hadn't realised just how noisy of an affair torture could be. Personally, I'd taken a back seat whenever such things occurred. The archangel brothers were kind enough to shelter me as long as I wanted from these sorts of things, until necessity made me take up sparring lessons with them. After all, an archangel was meant to be Heaven's greatest warrior; its mightiest weapon. Now I watched an archangel become Heaven's most terrifying adversary. One without limits. One without guilt or shame. One who couldn't be stopped by kinship because he had been created this way by his own family. Could I really fault him for this?

As it turned out, Lucifer had more instruments readied for this very purpose. An assortment of knives, maces and spears were brought to him and he relished the use of every one of them, taking his time. I could have sworn that he chuckled to himself in delight at the thought of how creatively he could use them. With every whip of the lash and every cut of the sword, Lilith's body arched from the pain as she yelled for it to stop. Soon, she was but a limp mess on the ground, alive but wishing for death to take her away. Her tears mixed with blood where it escaped wounds on her face. The cuts on her body cried crimson life, each spurt refreshing patches of dried blood.

Watching the muscles of his back contort to draw back whatever weapon he held made me grow numb. Every second this went on made the image of him fade away in my mind. I felt like a stranger, unable to understand how he was capable of this. I thought back to my earlier encounter with the forest animals. Was that what it was like for him? I had felt a nonchalance about the creatures but him? He wanted a crusade against the humans. He wanted to destroy every single one of them in as violent a manner as he could imagine. This wasn't just a test to see how far she could go – it was revenge. And I had failed to prevent this atrocity. The atrocity, not of this woman's torture, but rather his madness. His descent – his metamorphosis – into something utterly unrecognisable. If God was watching, He must weep at the sight of this monster that His son had become.

Wasn't that why we were in Hell? Because we couldn't stop it? Because… _I_ couldn't stop it? It was my responsibility and I failed. A bitter taste grew in my mouth.

The angels, on the other hand, cheered at her agony, only adding to it with their incomprehensible frequencies that hurt her ears. Lucifer's enjoyment, on the other hand, was not so outspoken. He did not need to show it, for the Mark on his arm was indication enough of a deep dark desire being satisfied. The poor woman was kept in this state for hours on end until, as a final act of abuse, he delicately reached into her solar plexus, exposing the bright light of her soul.

"The human soul – God's most prized creation," Lucifer announced. "So bright and ripe with energy… It would be a shame if something were to happen to it."

The angels grew quiet as they beheld the sight of that pure, powerful energy seated within every human being. It was crying to be released from this pain, fighting with every ounce against the beating that broke Lilith's spirit. This was the highest in the hierarchy of torture. Above the mental and the physical, there was the spiritual. The very essence of being that made existence possible. Lucifer twisted it, bent it, crushed it with all he had, using every part of him to distort every part of her. Lilith howled a bestial scream so deep from within her that it must have decimated her fragile vocal chords. She thrashed about in a pool of her own blood. The blood was everywhere and all over her. The dried smidges that crusted her jaw fell apart as her mouth twisted into a maniacal smile. Her screaming did not stop. It evolved into something else – a fervent, hysterical laughter that rooted from her belly. The soul… turned black.

"Let the black light guide you," Lucifer instructed.

"Black light guide you! Black light guide you!" the angels chanted, howling and raving in celebration.

Lucifer let go and she fell back, motionless. Her eyes were half-open, pupils rolled back. The abomination that was once her soul fought to occupy her once again. When it got its way, her eyes welled up with a black colour. It became clear that Lilith was no longer human. With a gasp, she shot up to a sitting position. Though she panted heavily from what she'd been through, terror no longer eclipsed her face. It looked more to be wonder. She watched as her wounds healed on their own, though she still looked dishevelled with her hair sticking to her body where blood had dried. She tried to stand up on her own. With a thought, she undid her own manacles.

The obsidian orbs she had for eyes now found targets. She could see us. And she wasn't terrified.

"My name is Lucifer," he introduced himself. "Hell is your home and I am your King. Pledge your allegiance to me."

Lilith wordlessly sunk to her knees, eyeing him with utmost awe. "Hell is my home and you are my King," she monotonously said.


	14. The Cage

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 14: The Cage**

I stood on the balcony of the armoury, watching the scene unfold down below. Some of the Fallen were in the courtyard, eagerly training the demon Lilith. It made my skin crawl. Lilith was first, then there were the 'Princes' – Azaezel, Ramiel, Dagon and Asmodeus. It utterly disgusted me. What an obnoxious title to give an abomination… a title that should have been reserved for our children. How could something… so tortured and beaten and misshapen become invigorated with life? How could the debilitating pain make it become so strong? It seemed so counterintuitive. I could never wrap my head around it. Perhaps that was why the demons sickened me.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Lucifer's voice sounded behind me. He took his place next to me on the wide balcony.

"That's not the word I would use," I responded, hands gripping the railing.

"This is just the beginning. Soon, more will join them," Lucifer gleefully declared. He was practically bouncing with pride. "The world will behold my demon army. And they will fear it."

I said nothing, but I could feel the disgust seeping through my expression.

"Cheer up a little, would you? You are their ruler too," he suggested.

"I don't know if I'd like that," I honestly stated. "No offence, but these creatures you made are vile."

Lucifer chuckled from deep within his chest. "Thanks, I guess," he said. "That means they're fulfilling their purpose."

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish by making these demons?" I asked rather curtly.

"I will make an army of them, all fashioned from the human race," he explained. He was confident, chin held up with self-satisfaction. "I will show Him the true ugliness that His precious humans are capable of. And I will make them bow before us, the way it should be." I averted my gaze. "You… don't like this plan?"

"What's there not to like?" I dryly replied.

"You can just be honest with me, you know? Without the sarcasm," he quipped.

I let out an exhale. "You really think this is a good idea? Provoking God like this?" I snapped at him. "He didn't even like us _speaking_ against Him. What do you think He'll do about you _subverting_ His creations like this?"

"It'll irk Him. I am aware of that," Lucifer said with determination. "The more the better."

"Don't be foolish. He threw us out of our _own home_ ," I pointed out. "You keep testing Him, He'll test back. Heaven is watching us."

"Not a single word has come from Heaven in ages," he argued. "They won't do anything about it. They're cowards."

"If you really believe that, you're more of an idiot than I initially thought," I retorted. He took in a deep breath, lips pursed into a tight line. I knew my words were harsh but if that was what it took to hammer the message into his head, I didn't care. "What do you think's going to happen, huh? You keep making more of these abominations and they'll stay silent? They'll launch an attack. That's what will happen."

"I say, let them," he shot back with an animated hand gesture. "I'll have an army by then."

"What, this?" I pointed at the training demons below. "You think they'll stand a chance against an army of angels? I'll bet it takes at _most_ three angels to take down one demon."

"That's why we need strength in numbers," Lucifer persisted. "At the rate we're going, each of the Fallen bringing in their own numbers of humans and turning them, we'll have a formidable force. And if you pulled your weight too, the demons will outnumber the angels five to one."

"I want no part in making such atrocities," I defiantly stated. "Creation is an art. I will not squander my talents on the waste bucket of human lives."

His head turned slightly, with a rigidness that he probably wished to dispel. "I don't understand," he began. I held back a sigh. If I could count the number of times he'd begun a sentence that way… "Is there something I'm missing? All you've done since you've gotten here is _argue_ with me. Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I snapped.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

"There's nothing _to_ talk about," I dismissed his concern. "You're reading too much into it."

"Am I? Then why is it that the first thing you do when you get up in Hell is… leave Hell? I mean, you didn't even talk to me for ages!" he flustered.

"Well maybe I just needed space," I rushed to answer. I was uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. "And don't distract from the topic. There is nothing wrong with me pointing out the insanity of your plan."

He sighed, rubbing his jaw. "And what would you suggest I do, my lady?" he challenged me.

"I would suggest you stop this and kill these creatures immediately. If you want an army so bad, your efforts should be directed towards converting our own people to our cause. Starting with the _Grigori_ ," I suggested. "Keeping it within the family always helps."

"You're not thinking big enough," he criticised, scoffing. "This isn't just about a military victory. We need to prove a point. Hit them where it hurts most. I want to make them watch the human race become something so disgusting that they will see how ridiculous it was to bow before them in the first place!"

"Fine, do whatever you want," I blankly answered, storming off with my arms folded. _Would it kill you to heed my warning?_ It probably seemed drastic to walk away like that, but it was solely because I felt strongly about it. I had a sinking feeling about all this and it just pained me to hear him standing his ground, insisting on this suicidal endeavour. I knew then that God would not stay silent. Humans were the product of millions of years of targeted evolution and it just took the two of us to talk to one of them to screw things up. I couldn't imagine that finding new ways to make things worse was going to end up well for anyone. I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted us to move on and find a better way to live.

In my disappointment, I found myself wandering to the lower levels of the palace. I paid a visit to the kennels where little Hellhounds were being housed. Such adorable things they were as pups. So ferocious and full of anger yet capable of love. I fed the little mutts, stroking and playing with them. Unlike the demons, these were creatures native to Hell. They were a true testament to the resilience of life, springing up in a place thought to be as inhabitable as Hell. The first one Lucifer brought home was a cutie named Ramsay. We both fell in love with her immediately.

One pup rolled over as I tickled her belly. That certainly lightened my mood. Just as I was about to give her a little treat, the sound of clashing metal caught my attention. I jerked my head towards the noise. It came from the end of the hallway. Though I was reluctant to leave the pups, I thought it important to investigate the disturbance. Torches greeted me as I ventured down the hallway. Soon enough, I heard voices.

"What's the matter, Smith? Afraid to honour the King?" someone hissed.

"I honour the King with swords. I have no need of your adventures," a familiar voice defended. I peeked around the corner. There, outside a workshop, I saw Hassiel being cornered by three angels, all eyeing him like fresh meat. This was not good.

"Yes, yes, swords," another pranced around arrogantly with one. From its shine, it looked to be freshly made. "Maybe we should honour you with one. Then you'd realise the importance of what we do."

The angels smirked among themselves. Two of them quickly moved to trap Hassiel against the wall while the one with the sword traced its edge.

"Hey!" I stepped out into the open. "What do you think you're doing?"

Immediately, the angels straightened up to face me. "Your Grace, we were about to leave for earth to lure humans into Hell," one reported.

"Is that so? Because I recall the exit being that way," I pointed behind myself with a thumb. I used a glare so fierce I could see them beginning to quake with fear. "What do you want with the blacksmith?"

"He doesn't want to join us, Your Majesty! Maybe he's- he's hiding something!" another angel was quick to accuse. I sighed, rolling my eyes. You could see how far the Lake of Fire had fried his sanity from his wide, deranged eyes that thought he made the whole sense in the world.

"Reza, why do you want Hassiel to join you?" I prompted to make a point.

"To… to collect more souls in Hell, my lady," the one named Reza answered rather hesitantly, evidently puzzled by the question. "If more of us go, we'll bring back more souls and please the King with more demons."

"So you want to harvest more human souls for Hell…" I inferred. "Then why are you _idiots_ wasting time that could be used to kidnap humans in here?!" They flinched at my loud voice. I raised a palm, ready to smite some sense into them as I approached with measured steps. "And on top of that, you waste the Smith's time which he could use to make us more weapons?!"

That sure terrified them. My palm glowed with the power I threatened to annihilate with. The three angels swiftly fell to their knees. "Please don't hurt us, archangel!" they begged.

"Then. Get. Out." The angels scurried away, leaving Hassiel and me alone. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, now that you're here," Hass reassured me. He still seemed a little dazed from the whole encounter. "If you hadn't shown up when you did…"

"Is this a recurring problem?" I asked. We proceeded into his workshop for the sake of privacy.

"Almost being skewered by my brethren? No. But I can tell that they are wary of me. I haven't sunken into depravity like them," he informed me.

"That's comforting. It's hard to keep one's head in here, it seems," I observed.

"It's a clear choice to me." A moment of silence passed between us as we ruminated on the state of affairs. "Being a Queen suits you, archangel. Lucifer is lucky to have won the affections of someone like you." I averted my gaze. Though I knew he meant well, I just didn't feel the positivity of what he was saying in that moment. "Is something wrong?" I let out a deep exhale. "Lovers' quarrel?"

"Something like that," I rubbed the back of my neck. I partly reconsidered spilling my troubles to him but he was the only friend I had left. I needed to talk to someone. "He thinks I'm somehow closing off to him just because I don't agree with everything he says and does. Which is ironic considering I barely even recognise him anymore." I tried to repress a shudder. Hassiel placed a reassuring hand on my arm, giving me time to gather my thoughts. "I feel like being sane has become… wrong. Everyone around me seems to be on a completely different level. Do you know what I mean?"

"Oh, definitely," he too exhaled at the thought of it. "We fell because we wanted to do the right thing. Because we valued the goodness of truth. But now… all everyone seems to want is to be evil. For the sake of… spite. I don't know if I can go along with that."

"You speak my mind, Hass," I smiled. It was heart-warming to know that someone felt the same way I did. But my little relief faded away as soon as it arose. He was a good-intentioned angel and he was damned because he followed me into a war. I wanted nothing but the best for my friend, yet I had delivered the worst. That weighed heavily on my mind. "All I wanted was to do the right thing."

"I know, Sophia, I do," his hand squeezed my shoulder. "Lucifer is right about one thing, though." I looked to him, finding an undiscovered concern in his eyes. "You're closed off. I can tell that the guilt is haunting you and if I know you well enough, you'll wear your guilt like a collar. You need to know that none of this is your fault. You meant well."

"Does it matter that I meant well?" Tears gripped my voice, threatening to turn me into a weeping mess. "What does it matter that I had good intentions if they only paved the way to Hell?"

"Of course it matters. Your intentions mean everything," he consoled.

I had nothing but anger at myself at the way things had turned out. "All of this… began because I was too much of a coward to commit myself to a truce. How can you say that… to me, after placing your trust in me and being betrayed by it?" I asked, spilling my thoughts.

I must have seemed pathetic in my current state. But being a good friend, Hassiel made no comment about it. "This rebellion wasn't just your choice. It was all of ours. Every one of us chose to side with you and Lucifer because we decided you were right. You have to give us credit for our choices too," he said. He let some moments pass for me to wipe away the tears. "You know, I remember the day we first met like it was yesterday. You were just a newly-minted archangel, wide-eyed and full of curiosity, when you entered my workshop. Do you remember what you said to me?"

I sniffled a little, beginning to gain control over my emotions. "'I want to make a sword'?"

He let out a little chuckle. "Right," he nodded. "You didn't say you needed a sword made. You wanted to make it yourself. You wanted to learn from me. Most people think they're too good to learn the craft of those below them."

"I've just always wondered," I shrugged it off.

"And that's what makes you different from the others. You don't just command. You lead by empathy. By understanding the people you rule over," he pointed out. "It's one of the things that I, and many people, admire about you. I don't blame you for the Fall. I blame God for not being as empathic as you."

"You are too kind to me," I pulled him into a hug. "In retrospect, it was probably best that you were the one to craft my blade." He laughed despite himself. "You deserve so much better than this, Hass. You could be in danger for being the way you are."

When we broke apart, he was the very face of composure. "I'll manage by satisfying everyone with steel," he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"No," I denied. "It won't be enough. I can tell things are about to get a lot worse. You can't remain here."

"But… but where will I go?"

"I don't know. I'll find out." A new determination filled me. "Hass, I'm getting you out of here."

"Your Grace, surely the safest place for me is by your side? And what will Lucifer say about his blacksmith going missing?" he worried.

"Being here with Lucifer is my destiny. Not yours. Besides, there are others who can pick up your work, even if none can match you," I stated.

"But-"

"As your Queen, I insist upon it. Will you disobey me?" I commanded.

He shook his head slightly, eyes softening. "No. Your wish is mine to fulfil," he simply said.

With that, I waited for the right time. When the Fallen were out of sight, I led Hassiel out of Hell. But the challenge did not stop there. Carefully, we evaded the patrolling angels from Heaven. Earth was under heavy surveillance from the people upstairs so it would be difficult for Hass to find refuge here. Instead, my idea was to get him out of earth itself. There were many planets that served as blind spots in Heaven's vision, seen only by those looking for them. I found one such planet that resembled earth in its size and vegetation. Here, far from earth, it was quiet and dark, only illuminated by distant stars and accompanied by the orbits of other gas giants. It had a breath-taking calm that enticed me to stay and explore its wonders. But I resisted the temptation.

"I know it's lonely but at least you'll be safe here," I told Hass.

"Solitude is the least of my concerns, my lady," Hass smiled. "I worry for you and your heart. Will I ever see you again?"

"I promise to visit you as often as I can," I said. The feeling of goodbye drawing nearer made my heart sink. "Please take care."

He hugged me again before I could burst into tears again. Why was I so quick to weep these days? I left him with eyes full of hope that gave me something to look forward to when I returned to earth. As I traversed the galaxies to return to the one I called home, I noticed several familiar spots of light around me. And no, they weren't stars. It was the fragments. I stared in shock as I turned about myself in a circle. There were so many of them! So it wasn't just earth that housed these sparks. I wanted to collect them but they looked so numerous that it seemed like it would take forever. And I still had unfinished business left at home. It seemed clear to me that I had a choice. I could return home and deal with the consequences of what I'd done, or embark on a journey that would last an undefined amount of time to collect these fragments. First things first.

But as I entered the stratosphere again, a single fragment begged my attention. At least this one was in my path. As I touched it, it exploded with light that enveloped me in its knowing embrace. In it I was entranced, and I saw… the Mark. Lucifer's arm gripped that of a human and the Mark… migrated from his arm to the human's. That was it! The Mark could not be destroyed but it could be passed on as a _curse_. Having seen the Mark's effect on Lucifer, an archangel, there was no telling what it would do to an ordinary human. But the Mark was the price of the sanctity of this universe, and if it had to be passed on to alleviate Lucifer of its troubles, then so be it. Lucifer paid enough of the price already… he deserved better. I would have to tell him about this immediately, before he did anything more to provoke Heaven.

He was still at the balcony, despondently looking out at the open beyond our castle. The skies were an infernal red and there were flashes of purple lightning in the distant hills. The ground far away was an arid wasteland with few desolate trees strewn about. It begged the question of what the point of life was in Hell if it only ever looked lifeless. All of this, Lucifer beheld from his vantage point on the highest floor of his palace, hands gripping the railing. I took my position next to him and followed his gaze into the distance.

"And where have you been?" he demanded, demeanour calm but meaning stern.

"Just out," I nonchalantly replied.

"Just out?" he huffed. "So you just happened to be out at the same time the Smith went missing?"

"Alright," I relented. "I helped him escape."

Lucifer was clearly struggling to stay calm. "Why? You know what, forget it. I'm tired of this."

"Look, I know it seems like I'm working against you but that is not the case. I'm doing what I think is right and I just wish you'd respect my decisions," I honestly expressed.

His shoulders eased with an exhale. Whatever his internal state of mind was, tension seemed to dissipate and evolve into something else. "You know, I can't help but wonder… whether you'll come back every time you leave Hell," he confessed. "Sometimes I'm just afraid you won't."

 _Oh no._ I wanted to prove to him so bad that he was wrong. I needed to. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I left him to think that way. Which meant that bringing up the fragments would be a tricky thing to do. I rubbed his shoulder. He retreated into my touch, pulling me into an embrace. "I could never leave you. You are my home," I said, my hands going up and down his back. Inevitably our lips found each other. Love was known and forgiveness was sought.

"I need you," he whispered in between kisses. "I crave you." His arms tightened around my back as he bent down to deepen the kiss. Now our bodies were gapless, tightly bound against each other. The friction between us was tantalising, begging to be undone. I found myself unlacing my dress despite myself and his fingers clamoured to help me. Within seconds, the cloth dropped in a messy heap around my feet. I stepped back into the shelter of the armoury, my lips enticing him to follow as I helped him with his pants. My skin tingled with anticipation in the fractions of time before our bodies met again, entwining and contorting to fit each other.

We found ourselves on the floor of the armoury which was meant for sparring. This too was a type of sparring, with both of us competing for dominance. How could either of us truly win in the match to rub and pull against each other? But Lucifer usually emerged the victor, deciding how I should receive him with his strong, muscular arms that commanded my body. He flipped me onto my knees this time, ruthlessly leaving me to wonder about my effects. I lost myself in his movement, slave to his desires. The King of Hell was cruel and unforgiving in his speed and force. Grunts and moans escaped my lips – sounds I didn't know I was capable of – and confused the line between pain and reward.

With no semblance of mercy, he held my elbows tightly behind me. I was helpless against his iron will. As he slammed into me again, I felt a release that took me by surprise. "You Devil!" I yelled against my better senses. I heard a deep smirk behind me as he finally paused to give me a break. He turned me onto my back and I complied with the flow of his body. "You evil, _evil-_ "

He cut me off with a kiss, pushing into me again. He went slower and gentler this time as he caressed my face and neck with his lips. "Your screams… are so sweet…" he whispered into my ear.

"The whole world… could have heard us…" I said while gasping for breath.

"Mmm… maybe they should…"

I stole glimpses at him and found that sadistic smile on his face again. But every time it was aimed at me, nothing but ecstasy resulted from it. That smile could send me into a peaceful death. I moaned more fully this time, feeling our peak approaching. And when it did, we met in a mutual sharing of satisfaction. Our eyes were resolutely fixed in each other as we exchanged the joy of our love.

We lay under his robes, caressing and cuddling each other. We liked to be silent in the afterglow, simply enjoying each other with a content minimalism. I traced his upper arm and felt his bulging muscles. Then my fingers wandered lower to the Mark on his right arm. I suddenly remembered why I'd shown up in the first place.

* * *

And so here we were. Sitting in the throne room, hand-in-hand, where the story began. Demons and fallen angels, coming forth and speaking to us about matters I didn't know we were interested in. Lucifer's scarlet eyes comforted me, telling me to hold on until the court session ended and we could retire to our room again. I supposed this was the new normal now. Every day drudged on and on for eternity. More demons joined us. "Tea, Mother?" one demon lowered a tray in front of me. I rolled my eyes as I accepted the cup. Thoughts of the fragment numbers in outer space occupied my mind. Death's warning came to mind. He'd said something about me facing the consequences. Were these what he was talking about? On top of that, I longed to breathe the fresh air of earth and to be surrounded by the vastness of space again. But I'd promised Lucifer that I would be a Queen – that I'd help him run a kingdom. For the time being, at least, I would remain here with him.

I'd told him about the vision given to me by the fragment. I said he had to find a willing human participant to bear its burden. Finding a human participant was easy. But a willing one? That would be tricky. Which was why we were still seated here in the throne room. Our soldiers brought us news about the humans, telling us of their piety and attitudes. It was all in preparation for our endeavour to persuade. The demons had been wandering among the humans, serving as the best means to infiltrate their populations without getting spotted. I'd chosen a few young children as candidates, seeing as they would be the most gullible. But Lucifer refused. He wanted only one man. Abel – Adam's son. Even for such a formality, he wanted the element of irony to stick it to Heaven.

"I will make Him watch as His most pious devotee turns into a demented maniac," Lucifer vowed. There seemed to be no limit to Abel's religiosity. He made offerings to God on a daily basis. It would be tough to make him stray from his path, but Lucifer tried anyways. Lucifer tried to impersonate the _Grigori_ in conversing with Abel, which truly enamoured the man. He was deeply enthused to have the opportunity to speak to one of God's servants. Lucifer could barely hold back his laughter in talking to the poor man. I shook my head in boredom though I had to admit, the situation had its humour. Lucifer tempted him with messages of how God wanted someone devout like Abel to do a special job for him and Abel said he would think about it.

When Abel left, Lucifer turned to me, as though to gloat about how it wasn't as difficult as I had said it would be. For both of our sakes, I hoped he was right. I could sense the winds of change from above. There wasn't much time, I believed, before Heaven's army would reappear before us. What we were doing, was pushing the limits of what could be done under the scrutiny of the angels. Just as I was contemplating this, a human voice broke me out of my thoughts.

"I know what you are. Abel may buy your lies, but I won't." We turned to see a man, visibly older than Abel with a fuller beard and moustache. It was Cain, Abel's brother. His eyes darted about in our general direction, unable to see us but still aware of our presence. "I've noticed your kind around my people."

"Have you now?" Lucifer strutted up to him, sizing him up by walking around him. Then, he leant in close to Cain's ear, whispering, "That's an astute observation. For a human."

Cain flinched at his proximity. "Leave my brother alone, creature of Hell," he warned with a voice laced with bitterness. "Leave him alone or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" Lucifer reciprocated the harsh tone. It was remarkable how well Cain was holding it all together. That was the tone that reduced demons to ashes when they weren't compliant. "You'll… kill me? Kid, you can't even see me."

"Look," he gulped. "I don't know what you want with Abel, but I'm begging you, please stop."

"Hm." Lucifer paused to look at him, inspecting this new opportunity. "I get it, Cain. You love your brother. I can understand that. But what are you willing to do for love?"

"I'll… I'll do anything," he said resolutely.

"Anything? That's a big word, son of Adam. I don't think you understand what it means," Lucifer taunted. "Is his life worth yours, I wonder?"

"Please," the human begged. "What is it that you want?"

"Will you go to Hell for love?" Lucifer asked, ignoring his question. "Will you sacrifice your eternity for his?" He continued in a circle around the man. "An eternity is a fairly long period of time."

Cain's light blue eyes zoned off as he contemplated eternity as much as the human mind allowed. "I'll do it," he answered.

"That didn't sound very convincing to me," Lucifer grumbled. "Abel was more… keen. He might be better suited to the challenge."

"No! Wait," Cain bid him. "You can't. Abel's soul belongs in Heaven. I won't let you take that away from him!"

"Will you now?" Lucifer smirked maliciously. He paused, allowing Cain time to grow more anxious. "Alright, I'll let your brother go. But only if you do what he was meant to do."

Cain heaved a sigh of relief. "Yes, of course. Anything," he spoke, looking forlorn. How sure he sounded… though he knew he was signing his life away. That was love. If there was ever one thing we had in common…

"If you do what I say, your soul will belong in Hell and your brother's in Heaven," Lucifer declared. "But first, I need to know that you mean what you say. You will send Abel to Heaven yourself."

"Send Abel to…?" he repeated the commandment under his breath. A strong frown beset his face. He seemed absolutely bewildered by the task. And then I remembered.

"Lucifer," I whispered. "He doesn't know what murder is."

"Oh," he mouthed to me. Then he leaned in closer to Cain. " _Kill_ him. Hit him, stab him, I don't care. If he bleeds enough, he will die."

Cain froze, the magnitude of his decision weighing down on him. He seemed shaken to the core. But determination filled his eyes. That night, he set off to save his brother's soul. A historical night it was - the first murder was committed and the blood of a righteous man was spilled onto the earth, its crimson tendrils black under the moonlight. With each strike, the stone used by Cain dug deeper and deeper into Abel's flesh, his tears and cries of shame fading. When he was done he stood up, blood drying on his torso and arms. His gaze hardened as he waited for Lucifer to appear before him.

Just as it was in my vision, Lucifer's arm gripped Cain's, the Mark glowed and it migrated, dissipating from Lucifer's arm and reappearing on Cain's. Lucifer took a few deep breaths, finally relieved that he would deal with the Mark no more. After years of watching Lucifer suffer with the Mark, he was back to his fullest self, yet I could still see that he was irreversibly broken by what it had done to him, his family and Heaven. At least he would have to deal with the curse no longer, and that was the best anyone could hope for in that situation.

Cain, on the other hand, was plagued by the magnitude of his decision. I could see it in his eyes – how the sight of blood fuelled his killer instincts. His hands were stained with it. And no matter how much he washed them, the blood would not come off. The red was an indelible stain on his soul, a tag that meant he had only one final destination.

For centuries, Lucifer and I ruled Hell. It was clearer now that God had damned those He deemed unworthy among the human race to Hell. We didn't even have to lure them in as we normally did previously. I rested easier knowing that some people just sent themselves to Hell through their actions. That meant we wouldn't have to be so conniving in what we did. There was more dignity in this. Yet, the demons persisted in making contracts with people which I supposed was a fair compromise.

And then, one day, Cain finally arrived. "Welcome to eternity, Cain," Lucifer greeted as the Father of Murder stood before us. "A lot has been told to us of your great deeds."

A fully converted demon, his soul finally was at ease with the history of murders he'd committed. He was in a place where there was little judgment about such matters, though I could not speak for the subjective experienced of being a demon. Lucifer was duly impressed with his record. So much so that he knighted him and appointed him the leader of the Knights. Again, I was uncomfortable with the idea of a group of demons having so much power, but it was clear that a hierarchy was necessary if matters were to become automated.

One day, I finally decided to bring up what had been on my mind for centuries. We were sitting in bed, cuddled in each other's arms and sipping glasses of wine. "The demons seem to really like you," Lucifer broke the silence.

"They _worship_ you," I too pointed out. "They call you their father."

"I know. But I'm just saying, I know they are vile and disgusting corruptions of humans. But they'll do anything for us. Isn't that something to be happy about?" he suggested.

"I suppose," I simply said. "You got what you wanted. You have your army."

"What next, I wonder? What do you propose?" he asked. "Maybe the pagans deserve some of our attention."

He had a refreshing calm about him, like the world was just clearer in his eyes. The noise behind his eyes had disappeared and I felt like he was more present than ever before. There was no describing how grateful I was for this. "Actually, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," I brought up.

"Oh no," he worried. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," I smirked. "Though it isn't unlike of you to be so… distressing."

I meant that as suggestively as possible. He sure loved hearing about his own misdeeds. "So what bothers you, love?" He caressed my back, rubbing his hands gently up and down. "Other than me, I mean."

"It's the fragments," I blurted out, straight to the point. He sighed, setting his glass down on the table next to the bed. "I know how you feel about this whole topic. But I can't help but feel responsible. I need to do something about it."

"If it bothers you so much, imagine how much it bothers God," he remarked.

"That's besides the point. Do I need to remind you how it was one of these fragments that cured you of the Mark? The 'Mark of Cain' would still be the 'Mark of Lucifer' if not for me stumbling upon one on earth," I pointed out.

"Alright…" he relented. "So what would you like to do about it?"

"I… I just want some time to go out there and find as much of them as I possibly can. I doubt I'll be able to get all of them in one go, but I need to know more about what I'm dealing with," I stated. I took in a deep breath, ready with an arsenal of statements for further convincing.

"Fine. Don't blame me if it gets boring," he assented.

I gaped for a moment in shock. "So… you're okay with it? You're not going to pout like a baby when I get back?"

He glared at me with narrowed eyes which only made me chuckle more. "If you really think this is worth your time… why not? Thanks for the heads-up, by the way. I appreciate that."

"I'm still learning," I said in response. My heart jumped in its seat. I carefully set my glass down with his and then smothered his lips with kisses. When enough love was made to last a few centuries, I prepared myself for the trip. Though the farewell was reluctant on both our parts, we parted ways with the knowledge that we would only cherish each other more after this brief separation.

As a first order of business, I went to check up on Hassiel. But as it turned out, I couldn't find him. I did find a note, however, in which he said he wanted to explore other worlds on his own and that he hoped our paths would cross again. Though I was mildly heartbroken that I wouldn't be able to speak to him, I respected his decision. We had all been through too much, and some reorientation was needed if we were to get back on our feet again.

Years I spent, away from Earth, scouring the universe for these fragments of light. Every time I found one, more seemed to appear in sight around me. The task was daunting. Occasionally I passed the time watching life form on different planets. Sometimes they survived long enough to reach higher levels of complexity, sometimes they didn't. The solitude was really humbling. The vastness of the universe was something to witness, even for a mighty being like me. I remembered the sweet memories of just sight-seeing the universe with Lucifer and Gabe. How I longed for that sanctity again… Now it was time for new memories to be made.

In my pursuit, I soon realised that the fragments seemed to follow a pattern. It took me a while, but I managed to synthesise a map detailing where I expected to find more fragments. This was somewhat of an epiphany for me. I could finally take a moment of rest! Future trips would be made so much easier by this algorithm. Once I had decided that I had collected enough fragments for the time being, I decided to find my way back home. _Ah, home._ I thought of Lucifer. I missed him dearly. By now, his kingdom would be far larger and more powerful. I couldn't wait to hear him boast about it.

I felt euphoric approaching the familiar solar system, the brilliant light from the sun welcoming me. Earth looked beautiful, and I admired its landscape, as I always did, while I descended into its atmosphere. It didn't take long before I found the gates of damnation.

I stepped into Hell.

An uneasiness stirred within me. Something was wrong. I took a few steps down the hallway. There I spotted a figure on the floor. A million negative thoughts raced through my head as I approached the limp figure. I knelt down to the ground, hand trembling as I flipped him over. _Dead._ His eyes were burnt out, leaving only charred, bloody sockets. Despite all reason, I told myself that this demon probably did something to warrant a death sentence from his King. I continued down the hallway.

There was another dead demon. And then another. The trail went on and on, deeper into Hell. This was not the warm welcome I had anticipated. I assumed a fighting stance as I ventured further. My mind was fully alert, ready to incriminate anything that moved. I came upon the doors to the throne room. I could only hear my own shallow breaths. Uncertain of what I would find, I placed both palms on the doors and pushed.

My mind went blank as I trudged inside. It was a bloodbath. The thrones were the only empty seats. The others, occupied by dead angels slumped over. Wings burnt and eyes rolled back, they finally found their peace in death. A whimpering noise came to my attention. I spun around to find a tearful demon at the threshold. It was Lilith.

She ran over to me and fell to my feet, muttering incomprehensible words. I placed my hands on her arms to usher her to a standing position. "What happened?" I demanded to know.

"Th- they just came out of nowhere!" she cried. "They came all at once. And the fallen… the fallen tried to protect him… and they killed all of them!"

"Lilith! Lilith," I repeated her name to get her to calm down. " _Who_ came?"

That's when she uttered the words that terrified me to the core. "The angels," she blurted out. "Archangels too."

My chest sank in horror. It was what I'd feared all along. And seeing the death around me, I could only imagine the rage they'd brought with them. "Lilith, I need you to hide," I commanded her. Not bothering to wait for a response, I took off. I followed the continuing trail of dead demons until the sound of clashing metal got louder. I quickened my pace.

I arrived in the large open courtyard. I froze in my step at the sight before me. There, Lucifer was knelt and bound in shackles, Michael standing over him. The years of not having seen him had made him appear like a total stranger to me. That, and the uncaring frown on his face that meant nothing good.

"If you have the guts, undo these shackles and fight me, Michael!" Lucifer yelled through gritted teeth.

"The day for a reckoning will come, brother. But today, I follow Father's orders," Michael announced coldly.

"Michael?" my voice was meek in comparison to theirs. I approached slowly with nothing but dejection written all over me. "What's going on?"

Lucifer's eyes widened in a split second. "Sophia, run! It's a trap!" he warned.

Before I could fully process what he said, I felt a strong, blunt force knock me down from the back. I fell onto my knees, my hands braking the fall. I was dragged to a position in front of Lucifer. "Good, we have both of them now," I heard a deep voice say behind me. _Raphael._ I'd recognise his bitter voice anywhere. He bound my hands in shackles too. As I inspected them, I found that I had never seen shackles like these before. They would have to be specifically made for holding archangels. This was a planned attack.

Lucifer and I craved each other most in that moment, proclaiming our love for each other with nothing but our eyes. We both knew something horrible was going to happen. But whatever we faced, we knew we would be able to face it together. That was our only respite in that moment. "What are you going to do to us?" I growled.

"The both of you couldn't just serve your sentence in peace, could you?" Raphael derided.

"Father's orders were to put you both under lock-up," Michael informed us.

"Isn't it enough that you threw us out of our own home?" Lucifer hissed. "What kind of justice is it to lock us up for eternity?"

"Michael, think about this! Do you think this is fair?" I weakly argued. "How can an eternity of punishment be justified by a limited sin?"

"God's justice is the only true justice," Michael monotonously replied. "His ways are the fairest."

"Give me a break," Lucifer muttered. "Don't do this, brother, I'm begging you! We can find another way."

"I'm sorry," Raphael said rather unapologetically. "But we do as Father commands. It's one of the many reasons we aren't here in this pit of misery with you." He hoisted me up onto my feet. "Now, Sophia, you can experience the pain of betrayal first-hand," he said, leaning in close to my ear.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Bring the cage!" Raphael yelled.

A fleet of angels brought down the large metallic structure, a giant box fortified with spikes on its edges. There were some bars on one side so that it would be somewhat transparent. With a swift motion, chains attached to the vertices of the cage sprung out into the abyss of Hell and extended into the distance, attaching to some arbitrary points out of sight. Its massive door swung open, revealing the claustrophobic interior. The angel fleet stood at the sides of the door, as though they were to prevent any futile attempts at escaping the eternity of entrapment that awaited us. At one such side, there was a shuffling of the angels and soon an angel emerged, having been shoved onto the ground.

He was a trembling mess on the ground, surrounded by the condescending looks of Heaven's servants. The angel looked dishevelled and burns were present on his wrists and ankles where there still was rope attached. His fatigued eyes met mine. It was Hassiel.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Sophia! I had no choice!" he said, weakly.

"No!" I yelled, struggling. Raphael held me back, denying my resistance. "What have you done to him?"

"Do you see, Sophia?" Raphael hissed in my ear. "What you made us all feel? Your own loyal friend, used to build the prisons that will hold you."

Fire coursed through me, threatening to destroy everything in my path. Were it not for the dampening effect of the cuffs around my wrist, I might have set all of Hell ablaze. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to shove a blade through Raphael's mouth just so he would _shut up._ But something he said resounded in my head. "Prisons?" I whispered. _Plural?_

I received no verbal answer. Michael lugged Lucifer away from me and against my cries of protest, he shoved his own brother through the doorway of the Cage. Lucifer's hands gripped the door frame to regain balance. His shackles were undone. Before he could turn around to say anything, Michael pierced his own brother with a lance through the back. I felt a stab of pain in my own chest at the sight. Impaled, all Michael needed to do was give him a shove and he fell into the Cage. The doors were slammed shut before me. My life, my love – it was taken from me when the wrought doors came to a certain close.

"Put me in there with him! What are you doing?" I screamed till I could bear it no more and became a bawling mess on the floor. Worse than seeing him trapped in that giant box was the realisation that I would not be able to comfort him or keep him company. The doors clicked shut. My struggling arms surrendered to Raphael's firm hold. Raphael grabbed me by the neck and pulled my head back.

"Does this hurt you? Father had the wise foresight to order two prisons. Truly, He knows what's best for you," Raphael snickered. "It is best that you rot alone for all eternity."

Like a clockwork, hundreds of seals moved into place on the Cage's exterior. All those locks to keep him in. How much did they truly fear him? It was no wonder. Fear was how they ruled. Fear gave them power over those below them. Lucifer appeared behind the bars, longingly staring at us.

"I will make all of you pay for this. When you think you're winning, when you think you have the upper hand, I will bring my rage and I will destroy you. Just you wait, Michael!" he snarled.

"Father isn't unjust. He promises you this chance for a day of judgment. A final battle as the verdict of your cause," Michael promised. The brothers exchanged an intense eye contact as if to swear on it.

Lucifer's irises came to rest on me and softened. "I'll come find you. I promise," he said firmly. Our eyes locked for one last moment until Raphael punched me, knocking me back to the ground. My jaw throbbed, the first of much affliction.

"That is, _if_ he finds where you'll be kept," Raphael said to discourage me. "You're going someplace no one will be able to breathe within miles. I doubt anyone would ever be capable of finding you. You'll be lost to time, a name that no one remembers. Then it'll be like you never existed, just the way it should be."

I tried to stand in anticipation of my trip to this unknown confinement. I sensed a swift movement. And then, only pain. Shocked, I looked down at my abdomen where it hurt. Three spikes protruded from where a trident had pierced me. Never had I seen my own essence flow so generously. But no, this would not kill me. That would be too easy. I cried out in pain, my hands instinctively grasping at the puncture wound. My body breathed around the spikes, every pulse only rewarding me with more waves of torment. But this was only the beginning.

With another shove, Raphael forced me forward in a command to move. And this was how I was made to do the walk of shame to my cell.

In pure agony, I was forced to fly out of Hell and into the cool embrace of earth. At some point my eyes were tightly shut from the piercing torment and I had only Raphael's hostile shoves of the trident to navigate the path. Eventually, we entered the depths of the ocean and as I saw, a grand vault was built underwater in which I would be left to spend my days. My shackles were undone, and I was taken into the literal clutches of the seabed – actual wiry appendages sprung out from a black pit in the sea. Some life form I had never seen before. This was a rude introduction, with them all but killing me. I felt invaded, every protest of my limbs only exacerbating their hold on me. With each prick, I felt the energy flowing out of me. "Wh- What is happening to me?" I asked, growing weaker by the moment.

"Oh that?" Raphael replied, amused. "You love nature, don't you? Well, you will be pleased to know that these creatures will benefit greatly from the energy you have to offer them. A living dead thing, you'll be. Goodbye forever, Sophia."

I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the pit, helpless against these snake-like things. Seriously, where were they from and how were they so strong? I heard the doors slam shut and I was left to succumb to my fading vision.

A last exhale left my lips before my head went under.

And then it all went black.


	15. The Vessel

Sophia's Chronicles

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

As you will see in this chapter, there is going to be a new main character who will be vital to the story so I may be reverting to and from a third-person narration and a first-person one, depending on whose side of the story I'm telling. So don't be confused by that. Also this chapter will be in third-person and takes place in Season 5 of Supernatural, when Lucifer has risen from Hell.

 **Chapter 15: The Vessel**

SEVERAL MILLENNIA FROM THE BEGINNING

It was the hour of Saturn, six hours after sunset on a Thursday. In the darkness, a young woman sat on the floor of her apartment. She wore a black robe, her dark wavy hair resting comfortably on her shoulders and her back. A single flame illuminated her tan-coloured skin in the dark room and her keen brown eyes were focussed. She knelt before a pentagram she had painted on a cloth that was modified to resemble the _sigil of infernal union_. On the Western side of the pentagram she had placed a wooden cup of water to represent Leviathan. On the Southern side, she had placed a lit black candle to represent Satan. On the Eastern side, she had placed her ritual knife, the _athame,_ to represent Lucifer. Focussing her mind on the present, she began to meditate. Once she judged herself to be ready, she began her prayer:

" _In nomine de Luciferi, Rego mei spiritus_

 _In nomine de Luciferi, Annuo me tui scientia_

 _Oh Lucifer, the Adversary! The Angel of Light, The Lightbringer, The Dawn Bearer_

 _The Morning Star called Venus, Grant me thy wisdom and knowledge_

 _for I hunger to know it. Guide my spirit, for I wish to come to know thee._

 _Oh Lucifer, I am thy servant. I adore thee, I praise thee._

 _Grant me thy dark gifts._

 _In nomine de Luciferi, Rego mei spiritus_

 _In nomine de Luciferi, Annuo me tui scientia"_

With that, she picked up the _athame_ and heated it using the candle, keeping her mind centred on her apotheosis. She then made a small incision on her palm and bled a few drops into the bowl of water. She then made her statement of intent, reciting it as follows: "I, Zara Joshi, seek to light the Black Flame within myself. I seek the wisdom of the cosmos, the wisdom of Lucifer, the wisdom of Sophia. Grant me your strength so that I may become a better individual and rise above everyone else." As she remained in meditation, her attention was abruptly grabbed by a vision. Her eyes squeezed shut as she received visions of the deep ocean, a bronze hawk and a bright green light. As the light intensified, she was released from its grasp and her eyes opened, and she heaved deep breaths.

"Okay, um," she stuttered. "That's… never happened before."

Though utterly confused by the vividness of the images that flashed in her mind, she just chalked it up to her tiredness. She commenced the banishing ritual and when she was done, she sprinkled a few drops of water from the bowl onto the cloth and then on herself. Releasing a deep breath, she blew out the candle and kept her ritual items back into a box. Stretching out her arms and legs, Zara released a tired yawn and retired for the night.

The sun rose again. It was another day. Zara woke up as usual, put on her work attire and left for work. She was a PhD student at a university in Rapid City, South Dakota – at least by day. She was just like anyone else her age, trying to find her way in life, trying to get a good job. Quite unlike anyone, however, she had a completely different destiny awaiting her. It was no wonder she had a natural curiosity about supernatural things, though she didn't have much of a reason to believe in them. She was completely secular in her beliefs about the occult, using the figure of Lucifer purely as an inspiration for achieving greatness. All that ritualism she practised? She didn't really expect anything to happen except for a change in her own attitudes. It was what all the modern occult thinkers preached – ritualism as a meditation to engineer a change in one's own life.

On her way to work, Zara mulled over the strange beam of light that was said to have shot up into the sky from a church in Maryland. The religious zealots were already calling it an act of God and if it weren't for the pile of dead nuns and priests in the church, she may have been inclined to give it some consideration. Some were even calling it the beginning of the apocalypse. Zara scoffed at the notion. _They've been saying that for centuries,_ she thought. _Everything's a sign of the end of times._

That fateful Friday, she entered her lab as usual and did her experiments. She collected and analysed her results, new streams of thought helping her piece together the puzzle that was the human mind. It had come to a point where the initial excitement of pursuing a career in science had worn off. Months were spent repeating the same old nonsense and receiving nothing in the way of results. _Science is fun, they said. It will be satisfying, they said._ Now she wanted nothing more than for it to be over. She should have been more careful in what she wished for.

That weekend, she told herself she would do absolutely nothing of value. _To be able to do nothing is a luxury,_ she thought. And so she got off work that day and collapsed on her bed, from both tiredness and relief. As she dozed off into a deep sleep, her dreams would take on interesting forms. Once again, the sight of the bronze hawk appeared to her, its bright green eyes beckoning her. This time, a voice called her name. "Zara…" the voice whispered. This awakened her. Her tired eyes stretched open and she let out a soft moan as she waited for the muscles of her limbs to awaken. "Zara!" the voice whispered again sharply, and this time Zara was snapped wide awake.

She shot up to a sitting position on her bed. Her eyes scanned the darkness. Not a single movement caught her eye. She was certain that no one was there. The voice didn't sound external anyways. It was clear and distinct, like a thought in her head. She checked her phone. It was 1am in the night.

 _Great._ She wanted nothing more than to sleep for two days straight, if that was possible. But her mind was alert and there was no way she would be able to fall asleep again without considerable effort. Sighing, she dragged herself over to the window of her small apartment. The sky was clear and the moon was full, shining in the audience of the distant stars. The sight of stars always pleased her. They reminded her how insignificant everything was in the cosmic scale of things, and so how she would be undisturbed in revelling in their beauty. At times, she wanted nothing more than to melt into the fabric of the universe, to be nothing and something at the same time. It was a beautiful night, and Zara thought it to be the perfect time to explore her inner self. And so she took a tab of LSD – she had done this a few times before so she knew what she was getting into – and went out for a walk.

There was a forest nearby that she loved visiting, especially during fall. As she walked down the familiar path, the visual hallucinations had begun. It was a cool autumn night. Various shapes appeared in her vision, colourful spirals and breathing objects fading in and out. With no one there to disturb her, she experienced true calm and bliss. Well, there was one person.

She came upon a lake and took a seat on a bench to enjoy the reflection of moonlight on its surface. As she looked up to see the moon in its entirety, she saw a man standing a few feet in front of her. In the darkness, she only saw his silhouette, outlined by the moon as he stood, blocking her view. His back was towards her, and his hands were rested on his hips, as though he was trying to get a good look of the moon himself. _Funny, I thought I was alone,_ she thought. "Excuse me, sir, but you're blocking my view of the moon," she said, trying to be polite. In her acid-stricken state, she felt slightly vulnerable and wanted to avoid conflict. In fact, she felt herself being pulled towards ego death and knew she needed to stay calm. The man slowly turned around. And that's when she saw it. His eyes – they glowed a deep red.

"Oh I'm sorry, miss," he replied, taking a seat next to her. "Is that better?" he asked, his deep voice becoming distorted as Zara's eyes closed and she lost all sense of self.

In her trip, she was falling. Falling through a strange world of mirror fragments, she fell, and she fell, and she fell. The mirror fragments glowed in all sorts of colours but the surroundings were all pitch black. In this strange world various figures appeared to her. They were all talking at once and she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Finally, she fell through a portal and landed in a place whose beauty she couldn't capture in words.

The grass was a strong red and the trees a brilliant green. The sky was bright but she didn't feel the heat of the sun. The wind was strong but she didn't feel cold. She walked through this strange land and as her feet entered a cool pond she realised she was barefoot. She continued to the centre of the pond and there she found a golden lotus. It was beautiful like nothing she had ever seen before. As she picked it up, the droplets of water gleamed like crystals on its petals. Its stem fell away, like it was meant for her to receive this lotus. When she looked up, she again saw someone in front of her. This time, the figure was a good several meters away, and in front of what appeared to be a shrine.

Through the knee-high pond she treaded, holding the soft lotus in her palms. As she moved closer and closer, she noticed that the being was wearing a white robe that exposed his muscular back and arms… and wings. The smoke from the incense became clearer as she climbed out of the pond onto the land. Zara stood before the being, observing the temple he was in. The stone pillars of the temple were carved with elaborate symbols, some she recognised as sigils. The being turned to face her.

He was much taller than she – she had to crane her neck upwards to see him. His skin was radiant so she could not make out his features clearly. But there was one she identified distinctly – his scarlet eyes. He looked at her stoically. "What do you have with you?" he asked. Instinctively, she knelt before him and extended her palms, showing him the golden lotus. She didn't know who he was, or why she did what she did, but it felt right, like she had been preparing for this her whole life. "Very well," he said. "Let's see if you're the one I need." He took the lotus from her, his palms embracing the back of her hands as she parted her palms to release the lotus. His touch was warm like fire and cold like ice at the same time, and this intrigued her greatly.

As he turned to place the lotus on the shrine, she inspected the sigils more carefully and to her surprise, she recognised one. Among others, hidden so discreetly was a sigil she had adopted as her own – Lucifer's sigil. She stared at it, trying to understand where she was. "Come now," the being beckoned, and she looked at him. She stood up and approached him, standing next to him in front of the shrine. The shrine was made up of a stone pedestal that stood attached to a wall, the top of the pedestal leading into a hole in the wall. The pedestal was bordered by flowers of all kinds. The hole in the wall was surrounded by more elaborate carvings that she could not recognise or understand. In the hole, she saw a glimmering bronze statue of a hawk, just like the one she had seen in her visions. She felt it calling to her, whispering her name, and begging her to take it.

As Zara stood staring at it, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "What you are seeing is more than just an object. It is a decision. If you wish to serve a cause greater than yourself, if you wish to find all the answers you have been searching for your entire life, then by all means, give in to its call. But know that once you make this decision, there is no turning back. You will be giving up the life you have had so far, for a new one," the being said. Zara looked up at him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

To that, he replied, "I am the one you prayed to last night. I am Lucifer." Zara was absolutely dazed, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I heard your prayer. And here I am, I've come to answer it." For a person who was tripping balls, this made all the sense in the world. _Of course, I prayed to Lucifer yesterday, and he is actually here to grant my wishes, because… that happens… right?_ "This decision, it is for the sake of Sophia – wisdom. You believe in serving the cause of wisdom, don't you?" Lucifer continued.

"Yes, of course. Wisdom is the only goal worth seeking," Zara replied.

Lucifer smiled. "Will you let Sophia in?" he asked. Zara stared into the emerald eyes of the bronze statue. Hypnotised by its knowing gaze, she recognised this opportunity as something she had always wanted. A way to escape her mundane life of deadlines and stress. What was there in normal life but an endless road of nonsense and boredom…

"Yes, I will," she said, picking up the statue, its green eyes suddenly glowing brightly and enveloping her in its light. "I… must…"

When she woke up, Zara found herself in an unfamiliar room. She was in last night's clothes, but she awoke in a bed she didn't recognise. She looked around. The room she was in was a lot bigger and more elaborate than her own apartment. She opened the curtains and as she squinted her eyes in the light, she saw the sun rising over the city. She could see the room more clearly now that sunlight streamed in. There were framed artworks on the wall, some lamps attached to the wall and a TV in front of the bed. Judging by its aesthetic, it was definitely a place she wouldn't be able to afford.

There was a small coffee table and two chairs around it. Her black coat was placed neatly on one of the chairs and her boots on the floor next to it. That was when she noticed a note on the table. It read:

' _Breakfast on Level 1 at 8am'_

"Breakfast? Level 1? Am I in a hotel?" she wondered out loud. She found a digital clock on the wall. It read 7.30am. As she entered the toilet to do her morning chores, the presence of neatly placed towels and toiletries confirmed her suspicion. As she unwrapped the package containing a toothbrush and toothpaste, she noticed the name of the hotel – _Royal Inn._ Looking at the richly-designed bathroom, she remarked, "Definitely 4 stars or above." When she came out of the shower, she noticed a bag full of her clothes on her bed. Whoever wanted her there wanted her to be comfortable, she thought. As much as it was disconcerting to wake up and not know where she was or why she was there, she couldn't help but think that whoever put her there was trying to impress her.

"The ultimate fantasy… getting nabbed by a rich sugar daddy…" she muttered somewhat sarcastically under her breath.

She pulled her hair into a bun and put on a plain grey t-shirt with black leggings and boots, as well as her dark grey fleece cardigan. With mixed feelings she left the bedroom to find herself in a large living room. There was a fancy table at the centre, with a flower vase on it. The windows covered the entire span of the far wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. There was expensive furniture laden around the room. "A penthouse suite? This is starting to freak me out," Zara said to herself. She knew better than to trust someone who would shower her with luxury, as that usually meant they wanted something equal in magnitude in return, but her curiosity was irreversibly piqued. Grabbing her room keys, she left for breakfast. _Time to see who this mystery person is._

As she entered the restaurant, she looked around for any indication of who she was supposed to meet. The restaurant was quite crowded. People of all sorts dined and drank their morning coffee, engaged in conversation. "This way, madam," a waiter said, gesturing her to follow. As they made their way around tables to the back end of the restaurant, the waiter stopped at a table near a window. As Zara observed, there was a man sitting on one of the chairs, his face obscured by a newspaper. As Zara took a seat, the waiter asked what she would be having for breakfast. "Uh… some pancakes, salad and some black tea. No sugar," she replied. The waiter nodded and left, leaving her face-to-face with a strange man whose deal she didn't know yet. Her heart beat faster, not knowing whether she was in danger or not or how to start conversation.

The man lowered the newspaper, his eyes still fixed on it. "Hmm… war in the Middle East, rising air pollution in China, violent murders… the news looks grim today. But then again, it does everyday," the man said nonchalantly. "How do you people live on this planet? It must be miserable."

This time, Zara got a good look at him. He was blond and had cold blue eyes. He was wearing a brown shirt with a blue jacket. Her own brown eyes stared at him, eyebrows creased into a frown and lips pursed. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" she asked.

His face changed into a sombre expression as he folded up the newspaper, placed it on the table and rested his arms on it. "I think you already know who I am," he said with a serious tone, as his eyes flashed a red colour. Zara couldn't believe it. She remembered clearly what she had seen in her trip, and she couldn't believe that she was making a connection between a being she saw in an acid dream and the person seated across her. It just didn't make sense… or rather she didn't want it to. _How could it be? How could this be real?_ She wondered. But she had no choice but to accept it as a reality.

"So… um… Lucifer?" she began.

"Mm-hmm" the man nodded, listening to her intently. She gulped. _Satan, is that really you?_

"What is it that you want from me?" she asked.

Lucifer smiled. "Zara, right?" He took her silence as confirmation. "Listen, Zara, you have a greater purpose to fulfil."

"Uh, hold on," she stopped him. "Are you for real? I mean, is this some kind of scam? Am I being kidnapped?"

He rolled his eyes. "How you want to define this arrangement is entirely up to you."

"But you're… really you…?" she was stuck on the question of his identity. "You're… Satan?"

"If it helps your tiny human brain to understand, then _yes,_ that would be me," he sighed. "Are we clear on this? Because I really do have a message for you."

Zara was frozen in her seat. What was someone supposed to feel when meeting Satan? Fear? Excitement? A little bit of both? "Okay…" she simply said. "Okay."

"I need your help to find someone," he stated, hands clasped on the table. "Someone very important to me."

"Me?" The waiter arrived with breakfast and Zara munched on her pancakes hungrily. "I'm just a girl with a past that nobody cares about. How am I supposed to help _you_?"

"Believe me, you're the only person in the world who can do this," he reassured her. "You are the trueborn vessel of the archangel Sophia."

"I have no idea what that means," she honestly said.

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Lucifer smiled. Perhaps this human wouldn't be so difficult, he thought. Not like his own true vessel. Patiently, he explained to her the situation. Heaven, Hell, vessels – the whole shebang. Zara's eyes simply widened at the thought of all this complexity. She never anticipated discovering the divine through breakfast with Satan. But now faced with all of this backstory from the Devil himself, how could she deny its reality?

"Woah…" she gaped. "They did _what_ to her?"

"I know…" Lucifer agreed with her shock. "So you'll help me?"

"Jesus fucking Christ…" she muttered. He frowned at her and she straightened up in an attempt to recover from possibly offending him. "But wait… How do you know that _I_ am her true vessel? Of all the people on this planet…"

Lucifer reached into his pockets and produced the bronze hawk statue. Taken by awe, Zara stared at the metallic object, finding it strange to see an object she had only known through visions in real life. She picked it up and held it upright in her palm and it glowed.

"That's how," he said. "It only comes alive for you, Zara." Now she knew she had to accept what the man was saying as real… that he wasn't really a man but an archangel in a man's body. "It served as a compass, guiding me towards you."

This meant that everything he said about her making an important decision was true. She realised that she was in a strange position of having accepted an offer – in an acid trip – and not fully appreciating its consequences. "Do you see now, how important you are? What do you say? I can get you anything you want."

She mustered whatever courage she had left, and she asked, "What if I refuse?"

She stared at Lucifer as he leaned back into his chair. The muttering in the restaurant died abruptly. "Then you will find that you are in hostile company," Lucifer replied coldly. Zara looked around. Everyone in the restaurant stared at her. At once, their eyes turned black. She gasped.

"Tea, madam," the waiter said, as he poured tea into her cup. As she looked at him, she noticed that he too had blackened eyes. A shiver ran down her spine. Trembling, she turned to face Lucifer.

"So I take it you'll be staying?" Lucifer asked, smiling. Taking a deep breath, Zara nodded. "Good. Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you more about what we're going to be doing together upstairs."

A/N:

The incantation at the beginning of this chapter is from Luciferian Grimoire, a blog on blogspot.


	16. The Search

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 16: The Search**

"Look at it. And now, focus," Lucifer said, standing in front of Zara, arms crossed. Zara was seated in the library of her hotel suite, on a cushion rested upon the centre of the arabesque carpet. The sunlight streamed in through the window in front of her and illuminated the wall containing a vast bookshelf, which stood comfortably next to a reading table. Zara stared at the bronze hawk in front of her and took a few deep breaths, allowing herself to relax. She then closed her eyes and directed attention to the hawk, trying to evoke another vision. In the quiet space of her mind, she felt removed from her current surroundings. Her mind was being pulled in the direction of a feeling, and following it, she sensed a longing, a craving for release. She tried to visualise what she was receiving, but the vision faded the more she tried so she stopped putting in too much effort.

"Well?" Lucifer interjected. "Did you find her?"

Zara was snapped out of her meditation. She opened her eyes and Lucifer was still standing as he was, eyes fixed expectantly on her.

She sighed and glanced at the hawk. "This is going to take a while."

"Well, hurry up, princess. We don't have a lot of time," Lucifer said, the snark crisp in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but you can't rush this. What do you mean you don't have a lot of time?" Zara asked innocently.

She took her chances, despite knowing that he had an army of demons who would do anything he said and frankly, they scared her. Lucifer looked at her, clearly debating as to whether or not he should tell her the truth. He wasn't keen on wasting his time, explaining his motives to a human. But he knew that her task would demand a lot out of her and if he lied to her now, she would find out sooner or later and expel Sophia. It was that same reason which compelled him to be truthful to Sam Winchester, his true vessel. He needed her full cooperation. _But if she refuses…_ he wouldn't be able to compel her through force. Lucifer hated taking a gamble like this, but he had no other choice. He would have to play to her interests. After all, that is why he had his demons infiltrate this hotel and accommodate her in a place with all the luxuries a human could want. However, he gave little thought to the one thing Zara wanted more than anything – knowledge.

"To put it simply, it's prophecy that I should rise and fight my brother, Michael, to death, and I need to… **"** Lucifer's brows knotted, "...set off some events within a specific period of time to set the stage for this final battle." He tried to simplify matters as much as he could, skimping on the details of his plan. "I need Sophia to be with me when it goes down, so I need you to find Sophia and free her. The only way you can do that is if you become her vessel."

 _Um… what?_ Zara felt her heartbeat rise to a crescendo, a background rhythm to the frantic thoughts zipping through her brain. Out of these initial fears, a sliver of excitement emerged as a small yet raw pulse. "It sounds a lot like… you're starting the apocalypse," Zara joked, averting her gaze from Lucifer as she came close to realising what he truly wanted. Yet she was naïve, naïve and intrigued, finally able to find her light-bringer and truth-bearer in him. When Lucifer remained silent, Zara spoke again, "I've looked up to you since I was a teenager. You brought the light of wisdom to humanity and saved us from being unconscious creatures. You showed us our true potential. I…" She looked up at Lucifer, her eyes softening, "I guess I can trust you."

This had an effect on Lucifer – he liked being appreciated by someone for a change (he could hear and sense the animosity that humanity had harboured towards him over the millennia from his cage). Maybe he would actually enjoy working with her, he thought. He would have to – she would be the vessel of his beloved.

As he was entertaining this skein of thought, Zara posed a suggestion. "Actually, I think I know what could help," she began. "Every time I try to follow a vision, I just hit a dead end. It's like I am getting closer to her but I'm not at the same time. I think I need to know more about her and who she is so that I can get a clearer connection to her. Now, I remember reading some material some time ago about second century Christians who were Gnostics. Their theology talked a lot about Sophia but there isn't much to go on and now that I think about it… there isn't a lot of folklore or mythology about Sophia that I know of. _Why is that_?" Zara trailed off. " _Anyways_ , it would help if I had something to read or something you could tell me that could help me establish a connection to her. What is she like?"

"Well, that's easy," Lucifer replied, pulling up a chair and sitting on it. With his elbows on the armrests, he made a steeple with his fingers and spoke, "Sophia is someone who highly values knowledge. Most of the time I had spent knowing her in Heaven was in her study, where she would investigate the various properties of… pretty much everything. It was… respectable."

Zara's eyes widened at the prospect of understanding what Heaven was like to Lucifer before he fell. It was something she had always dreamed of understanding, besides wishing he was real. She listened in awe as he continued, noting a growing hint of a smile. "Sophia was always sceptical, despite the hierarchy of power in Heaven. No one escaped her scrutiny, not even God. This suited me, of course, because her scepticism was very much in line with mine. But I digress. Sophia was the keeper of knowledge, hence the intensive investigation and the scepticism. She was so committed to it… even after the fall," Lucifer said, his last sentence laced with some apprehension. "She was also supposed to be a figure of health and healing, but she did not serve this purpose as much for all of Heaven as she did for… me."

Eager to know more, Zara asked, "So you and Sophia were… close?"

Lucifer suddenly became self-conscious. This was a side he had never bared to anyone in a long time. As much as it would make him vulnerable to share more of what he knew with this mere mortal, he also knew that he had enough strength to compensate for it should he need to. Making a calculated choice, he decided to go on.

"Yes, we were. Sophia was a breath of spring and a great symbol of feminine divine beauty. If God made man in His image, He made woman in hers. And our connection was always natural, like the life force that is brought forth in her every step. She always did understand me. She was loyal to me. And we both started the angelic rebellion, which as you may know, led to The Fall."

A surge of warmth coursed through Zara as her curiosity about Lucifer and the Heaven he was banished from was satisfied by the fallen angel himself. In the silence that followed, Zara could feel a familiar tug in her heart, a yearning to understand this misunderstood rebel. She opened her mouth to ask more but Lucifer stood up abruptly, walked over to the bookshelf and placed the chair back to where it had to cut off this sharing session before he disgusted himself with such a show of emotion. Besides, he had to leave to begin his work in releasing the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

Lucifer pointed to the bookshelf. "I've arranged for some books to be brought to you. I need you to read up and keep up with the team if you are to be of any use."

"The team?" Zara asked quizzically.

"You're going to spend a lot of time around me and my demons – I have my best demons here to watch you. They'll be with you at all times to keep you safe and take care of all your needs… and they will report to me about your progress. So get on it and find Sophia."

Lucifer vanished into thin air, the suddenness causing Zara to jump. _Great, now I have babysitters,_ she frowned. Standing in front of the bookshelf, she traced her index finger over the spines of several volumes of books and her finger finally came to rest on a red book. _Demonology for Beginners,_ it read. For someone who was into occultism for a while, some of the material she read was easier for her to grasp. Of course, she never believed that magic or spells could be used like how witches in fiction could use them. Until now.

For days, she spent her time reading, practising magic and meditating. She didn't mind this change in her life as much as she thought she would. Previously, she was just an average person going through the daily grind of 9 to 5 hours and she felt like there was no direction to her life. Her days, her possessions and her identity were all blended in with the other denizens of this world, leaving Zara with a dull, astringent aftertaste no matter what accomplishment she achieved. She knew that the universe was vast and big and brimming with uncharted beauty but nothing really meant anything to her. She just felt… tired of trying. Now that she had been 'recruited' by Lucifer, she thought this to be her path to greatness and her way of understanding the deeper meaning to everything. It was, she realised shortly after Lucifer's departure, a chance to truly discover what lies in the eye of the web holding together her soul. Hence, she never really complained that he had set her to such a task. It was exciting for Zara to be chosen by Lucifer and be pulled out of her mundane life. She was thankful for that. With every period of meditation, she tried pushing herself to stay in that state for longer, starting with an hour and eventually progressing to three hours.

Day after day, Zara would get small glimpses of where Sophia was. Sometimes she would get extremely cold. Sometimes she smelled seawater. Sometimes she would get intense emotional changes, which she could only assume were what Sophia was feeling. She would feel strong sensations of depression, claustrophobia and even the edge of insanity. Coming out of such experiences became more and more difficult for her as they were emotionally-draining. But she still could not get a clear starting point. Seawater did imply that Sophia may be trapped under the ocean, but that was no help – three-quarters of the Earth was oceans. Nevertheless, this did not deter Zara. She loved solving mysteries and puzzles; it is what drove her to become a researcher. She just needed to heighten her awareness, but psychedelics couldn't help because she had just taken a tab before being taken by Lucifer and had built up a tolerance. Instead, she turned to meditating before dawn because she had read somewhere that this was the most fruitful time for meditation.

And so Zara set her alarm to 3am before climbing in to bed. The sharp ringing pierced through her sleep and she woke up, much to the reluctance of her body. She dragged herself out of the regal bed, barely able to open her eyes. She brushed her teeth and went to the kitchenette to make a hot cup of green tea, passing by the two demons who stood outside her bedroom door. They exchanged confused looks.

"Can't sleep?" asked the one named Martin. He was the bigger of the two and, while his partner sported a clean crew cut, Martin had his long hair styled in a way dangerously close to a mullet. Zara had to stifle her smile when they first introduced themselves.

"Just starting my day early, Martin," Zara replied, unemotional. She poured boiling water into the cup with the teabag, feeling her tired muscles begging for rest and comfort. While waiting for the tea to cool down, she stood in front of the window, observing the dark violet sky as she did her morning yoga. This helped with her aching muscles and refreshed her body as well as her mind, preparing her for her meditation. She gulped down her green tea, enjoying its light grassy bouquet and being as mindful as she could of the experience. The familiar vibrating sensation emanated from the centre of her head as she sat down in the library to begin her meditation. This time, she focussed on the image of Sophia rather than the bronze hawk. She dwelled on what Lucifer had said, trying to envision Sophia as an entity – a deity even – who she could empathise with. Back in her headspace, Zara felt the cool humid breeze of a forest, feeling her awareness extend outwards and reach animals around her. This was a new feeling. She felt connected with the forest as though it were one living being, breathing and existing as part of her. This was where she would feel most in touch with Sophia. The vision was guiding her to Sophia and it wanted her to go to a forest. As Zara opened her eyes, light filled her vision and she realised she had been at it for a few hours.

She checked the clock on the library wall. It read 8am. _Five hours? That fast?_ Feeling hunger pangs **,** she got up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. As she made her favourite chocolate pancakes, she decided that she would pack some food and tea and spend some time alone in the woods. She wanted to go on a hike. It was something she had always been doing leisurely but now, being bound by Lucifer's order, it took on a more profound purpose.

As she put on a sweater, a coat and a beanie in her bedroom, Martin entered. "Uh **,** where do you think you're going?"

"I'm just going for a hike in a nearby forest. Don't worry, I'll be back tonight," Zara replied as she stuffed a lunchbox into her backpack.

"Well, you're not leaving without an escort. I'll come with you," Martin said.

Zara rolled her eyes and retorted, "I don't need you to babysit me and I think I will make better progress if I was alone."

Martin's eyes flashed black. "The boss gave me orders to keep an eye on you at all times. I'm not leaving you alone. I'll drive," Martin said coldly, obsidian orbs boring into Zara's resolve. Reluctantly, she went along with it.

The car drive began quietly. It was just the two of them, human and demon seated together. Zara used this opportunity to find out more about demons.

"So uh Martin… what's your deal? Why do you do… this?" She asked.

"Why do I serve Lucifer? Well he _is_ the Prince of Darkness. He created demons. He is our father. And he will rule Earth and Hell as he should, with demons like me proud to be at his side," Martin replied. His eyes were still trained on the road, but the honour in his voice was strong and lucid.

This made Zara uncomfortable, though she did not show it. She wasn't too keen on the idea of Earth being ruled by one anything – one man, one angel, one group of elites – but she pushed this idea to the back of her mind since she had something more important to focus on and she didn't want her intentions to show.

"Fair enough," Zara finally said.

Martin turned the car onto a stretch of highway flanked by forests. They were getting close. Soon, he pulled into a car park at the entrance to a natural reserve. The clouds blocked the sun, giving the skies a light grey. They both ventured deeper into the park, the foliage grew thicker and the path became thinner until it was but a thin strip of soil that led deeper into the forest. Following the trail, Zara slowed down her pace, taking deep breaths and focussing on every step that she took. Once again, the feeling of oneness with the forest became stronger. She ran her hands through some low-hanging branches and tree barks, feeling ribbons of cool autumn breeze caress her hair. At some point, she stopped and closed her eyes, allowing the trance of interconnectedness to simply wash over her. That was when she had her next vision. This time, it was very different. The vision was much more vivid than any that she had ever had before. It was like seeing a cyclorama right before her eyes – she saw hurricanes and water spouts and more destruction coming from the ocean. She saw ships and planes losing their way, and being devoured by the turbulent ocean. She heard the cries of men and women as they succumbed to the bloodthirsty throes of the waters beneath them. This vision was an aggressive one, so much so that she felt herself teeter and Martin had to catch her to keep her from falling.

As she regained her balance and stood before Martin, she was visibly shaken by the vision. Her voice trembling, she whispered, "Call Lucifer. I think we have something to go on with."

While they waited for Lucifer to appear, Zara trod further down the path, focussing on the sights before her to calm down and shake off the uneasy feeling she got from having seen such pure destruction. It was mid-afternoon and the skies became a darker shade of pewter, threatening a heavy downpour. It began to drizzle and Martin pulled out an umbrella, shielding Zara from the rain. They stepped into a shelter with a bench and sat down. Amidst the light patter of raindrops, Zara pulled out the bronze hawk and **,** holding onto it, she once again entered a meditative state. The vivid sensations of the vision came to her almost immediately this time. Like a psychedelic experience, she experienced ego death and simply felt her consciousness floating over ocean waters where there was a lot of chaos.

At one moment, she felt light as she was above water. The next, she felt smothered by darkness and pressure on her skin from all around. As she hovered in this dark, heavy abyss, she felt extremely cold. It was almost serene, being unattached to anything and simply moving with the current. That was when she saw two glowing red lights in the dark. As her mind focussed on them, she found them to be luminescent red eyes – eyes that belonged to Lucifer. Suddenly, the feeling of self returned and she looked around, unable to recognise her surroundings. She became conscious of the crushing pressure of ocean water and realised that she was in fact deep underwater. Becoming aware that she hadn't yet taken a breath, panic overcame her as she realised she would not be able to breathe in this claustrophobic space. Her eyes widened as she looked at Lucifer. He grabbed her by the waist and in the blink of an eye, they were back in the hotel suite, both soaked to the feet in salt water. Zara took in large gulps of air, her knees so weak from shock that she clung onto Lucifer's shoulders for a good amount of time. He too held her, understanding that she was shaken. Gently, he rested her on the couch while another demon wrapped her in a towel.

The sun had set and the skies were grim, streaked with the final rays of sunlight on the horizon like a melancholic painting. The experience affected Zara greatly. Not only did she feel the absolute torment that was emanating from the waters but she also found herself in those same waters without any prior warning. It was scary how she was suddenly pulled from a safe area on land into the deep ocean. As she took off her wet coat, sweater, shoes and socks, she realised that she had an audience. It wasn't just Lucifer and her two demon bodyguards but Lucifer's entourage as well – another several demons who were in the room facing them. They all looked like they were anticipating answers from her. Zara sat down and pulled the towel tighter around her, feeling tired and cold.

"I s-saw hurricanes and p-planes and ships c-crashing," she said, her lips quivering. "I-I think I saw the B-Bermuda Triangle."

"That was where I found you. It must be where she is," said Lucifer. Then, he spoke slowly, "I'll need you to go down there and look for her."

Zara looked at him pleadingly. "I c-can't go underwater! The water pressure is enough to k-kill me!"

"You won't be alone. I'll take you there. I can keep you safe," Lucifer offered.

A demon stepped forward from behind him. It was a woman with wavy dark brown hair, who was wearing a black leather jacket. "What about the Winchesters, sir?" she asked.

Lucifer turned to face her. "This is more important right now. I trust you'll take care of it, Meg?"

"Yes, father," Meg replied, and stepped back.

"Alright, then," Lucifer turned back to Zara. "Rest up, we'll take off tomorrow morning."

With that, Lucifer left and his entourage followed. Yearning to feel warm, Zara went to take a shower, turning up the heater and letting the lukewarm spray knead her shaky muscles. The lavender scent of the soap helped ease her tension and she felt more relaxed. With a hot cup of tea, she sat comfortably in the library. As she opened a drawer where she normally kept the bronze hawk, she noticed something else present in it. There was a shiny metallic box. As she opened it, she found, to her surprise, _kohl._ This must have been among other things that were brought by Lucifer. For an object that was thousands of centuries old, the _kohl_ was still fresh and soft. As someone who loved wearing eyeliner, she walked to the vanity and tried some on herself, out of curiosity. She blinked her eyes once done. Her irises glowed a bright green, taking her by surprise. She looked around the room and found that she could see two figures outside the library – it was her bodyguards. She could see people through walls and her senses were heightened so she could hear their conversations and their movements too. _Cool,_ she thought, _this might come in handy someday._ Her hands pressed against the door, she eavesdropped on the demons.

"Hey Martin, do you think she's actually going to find Sophia and say yes to her?" One demon asked.

"We'd better hope so, Greg. Next to getting Sam Winchester to say yes, this is the most important goal for the boss. Who knows what he'd do to her if she refused?" Martin replied.

"I'll tell you what: he's going to let us have at her until she decides she wants to cooperate," Greg snarled.

"So much for treating her like royalty, I guess," Martin said in response. "She should enjoy it while she still can." The demons chuckled.

A chill coalesced in Zara's this was her first realisation of the actual danger she was in and the true extent of evil she was surrounded by. An inexplicable wave of fear and paranoia overcame her. The experience of the vision moments before had left her shaken and trembling. Whatever this was, it was big. And it was all in her hands. Her life would be forever changed.

 _What if I never see anyone I've ever known again? No one will know what happened._ Working with Satan suddenly sounded less flattering than she had initially thought. She felt a sharp impulse to run and wasn't sure how, just yet, but she would certainly try.

Zara looked towards the bookshelf and picked out books on angels and demons. Tearing a blank page from a notepad, she began to plan her escape the next morning.


	17. The Winchesters

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 17: The Winchesters**

The sky began to brighten when Zara woke up. One would have thought a person would sleep till noon if they woke up as early as 3am the day before, but anxiety kept Zara tossing and turning throughout the night. Defeated by her body's refusal to relax, she woke up at 7am. Her stomach turned uneasily as she began the first phase of her plan – getting out of the hotel. Grabbing her essentials – wallet, clothes, water, etc. – she walked out of her bedroom and faced her bodyguards.

"I need to go to a pharmacy," she demanded, chin held high. She maintained eye contact with Martin, trying her best to appear as collected as possible.

"What for? Are you hurt? Lucifer could help with that," Martin replied with guarded concern.

"Uh… it's nothing like that. A lady's gotta deal with her own problems… if you know what I mean." She narrowed her eyes, hoping Martin would understand.

"Hmm... " Martin squinted back at Zara, his voice gruff. "I could get it for you. Or you know, ask someone else to. Someone familiar with the lady problems..." He gestured at the suite door. "A woman."

Zara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she shrugged and flashed a smile. "Surely you and Greg can handle walking me a short trip round the block."

Martin glanced at his partner, who nodded. Reluctantly, he said, "Alright, then. But no games."

Her two bodyguards trailing behind her, Zara walked unimpeded through the hotel lobby and out into the street. The chilly autumn breeze caressed her face as they neared the pharmacy.

"We'll wait outside," Martin said. "Get whatever you need and come out quickly. You've got money, right?"

Zara nodded and entered, giving him her best smile. She pretended to browse through the aisles while the demons stared at her from outside. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. She slowly walked to the back of the store, where she would be out of sight of the demons. An employee then approached her, asking if she needed any help. Zara looked at the young brunette, and gave her a warm smile.

"I know this is going to sound weird, but can you please take me out the back door?" she asked.

The woman stared at her blankly, clearly caught off guard by her question. Zara looked at her with pleading eyes, and the woman finally agreed, hoping she didn't make the wrong choice. Making sure that her bodyguards couldn't see them, Zara followed the employee to the back room and heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing the empty alleyway. Quickly thanking the woman, she took off, running as far as she could away from the pharmacy.

 _Okay, phase 1 complete. Now time to gear up._ Zara entered the large wooden doors of the grand white building. She would have never thought, in all her life, that she would be so relieved to step into a church. Urgency compelled her that day as she sought out the old priest. Panting, she approached him. "Father, where may I get some holy water?"

The old man's rheumy blue eyes studied her expression with scepticism. The lights made his white hair shine as he replied. "We usually keep some at the entrance, young lady."

Zara dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. "Is there enough to fill this bottle?" she enquired. The priest smiled and suggested that he could bless it for her right then and there. "Yes, thank you. That would be great," she replied. Pulling out his rosary and bible, the priest began his incantation. Zara had no idea how saying some Latin words over a bottle of water would make it holy, but the demonology book had been clear that holy water burnt demons. If she ever encountered demons, this may be the only way she could defend herself. Her mind filled with worry about the efficiency of holy water, she paced up and down while the priest was doing his thing. She was caught up in her own thoughts when the priest looked up and called.

"It's done." Zara approached him, thanking him while packing the bottle of water into her bag.

"If you don't mind my asking, are you in trouble, miss?" he asked, his words stretched with a slight Southern drawl. "I recognise the look of a guilt-ridden trouble-maker anywhere, having been one myself at your age."

Zara released a deep breath, her brown eyes expressing a deep sorrow. "You could say that."

"Well, the Lord listens to those who pray to him. Talk to him from the heart and you will receive answers. Or if you're not ready to talk to the Big Man himself, you can always find me here," the priest said sincerely.

"That's very kind of you, Father. I'll keep that in mind." Zara turned to leave but stopped, facing the priest for a moment. "Is there a motel nearby?"

The blue floral wallpaper of the motel room did little to calm her nerves as she sat on the bed, drinking some water. She had just hastily locked the door and closed the curtains. By now, Lucifer would have known about her escape. Thinking about it had made her heart palpitate faster and faster. Being prone to paranoia did not make the situation easier on her. She constantly felt like she was being watched and that her freedom was constantly being threatened. She hatedfeeling so on-edge. As if to make things worse she felt weak from the hunger and lack of sleep. But she could not rest just yet. There was still something else to be done. Taking out a pen, she drew a number of sigils and symbols on her body – she had read that they would prevent demon possession or detection by a number of supernatural beings. She found a notepad in the room and drew them on paper as well, placing the papers in various parts around the room. As a final means of protection, Zara put on the magic eye-liner, immediately finding that she was surrounded by humans and in no danger. Yet. Grabbing her bag, she headed out to a diner, running through escape plans in her head.

A bell jingled as Zara entered the diner. It was relatively empty for a 9am diner. She took a seat at the counter, observing as the waitress took the orders of two men who were wearing leather jackets and jeans and seated on a booth in the far corner. "I'll have pork chops. And some pie on the side," she heard one of them say. The waitress went into the kitchen briefly and came back out, approaching Zara.

"And what can I get you, sweetheart?" she asked, a bright smile illuminating her soft features.

"I'll just have some pancakes, thank you."

"Coming right up." The waitress disappeared into the kitchen again. Zara took the empty cup in front of her, and poured some holy water in it, just in case, and took a sip, refreshing her parched throat.

Zara mulled over what the priest said. _If God really existed, would he really help me?_ She brooded. She closed her eyes, and with the sincerest emotion she prayed. She prayed for safety. She was broken from her train of thought when her plate of pancakes arrived. She looked up at the waitress to thank her but fear gripped her instead when she saw instead the ugly face of a demon. A demon had possessed the waitress **,** who now stared at her with black eyes. Zara looked to the door and there was another in a suit closing in on her, causing her to gasp.

"We've been looking all over for you," the one possessing the waitress said, its voice diabolical.

Deciding to act fast, Zara flicked the cup of holy water at the waitress. The demon hissed as holy water splashed on its face. Without wasting a second, she hurled the same cup into the face of the other demon, breaking the cup and splattering the remaining holy water on his face. The demon fell back, yelling, while Zara made a dash for the door. However, the writhing demon grabbed her ankle, causing her to fall forwards. As she lay on the floor, the waitress had regained her composure and was now rapidly closing the gap between them. Zara held her arms up to defend herself but instead she heard the demon scream. Looking up, she saw that a knife was in her abdomen and the demon's eyes flashed yellow light before she fell to the floor, lifeless. Holding that knife was none other than the guy who ordered pie just moments before. As she took in the scene before her eyes, the other man recited what she recognised to be an exorcism spell while the demon on the floor squirmed and eventually exited the man it possessed in a gust of black smoke.

"Are you okay?" the shorter one asked, as he held his hand out. Zara grabbed onto it and pulled herself up, now noticing that the two men were much taller than her – her head was only at the shoulder of the shorter guy.

"Yeah, now I am. Thanks for that. Um… who are you?" she asked, suddenly feeling as though her prayers were answered.

"I'm Dean Winchester. And this my brother, Sam." Sam raised his hand to say hi.

"I'm Zara."

Dean nodded. "So, Zara, what do these demons want with you?"

"That's a long story… can we go somewhere safe first?" she pleaded. Sam and Dean exchanged glances and Sam nodded at his brother.

Finally, Dean turned back to her and said, "Come with us."

Zara ran her fingers along the leather seats of the Impala as she sat at the back. They had the same dusty black finish as the car's exterior. Except for the steering wheel and the stereo, the inside was covered in a tan coat, giving the Impala a streak of sophistication alongside its formidable exterior. It was truly a fine car, she thought. As they drove, with classic rock music wafting in the background, she wanted to break the ice with some conversation. "So uh your knife – how's it work?"

"What, this?" Dean reached into his jacket and held up the knife with one hand, the other on the wheel. "It's an ancient demon-killing knife. You stab 'em with it, they die. That's all I know and all I'll need to know."

"Cool," she remarked as she took it from him, feeling its weight and observing the etchings on the blade. "What is it that you do?"

Sam turned to face her from the front seat. "We're hunters – we hunt monsters." _Oh right, monsters._ _Of course. Those… exist._ Soon enough, they pulled into a yard of sorts that was filled with old cars. _Singer Salvage Yard,_ a sign read.

As they entered the house, Dean called out, saying, "Hey Bobby! We've got a visitor!"

Sam walked forward, pulling out a chair from the dining table and gesturing her to sit. "You must be hungry," Sam acknowledged as he got some food from the fridge. Getting out some sandwiches, he sat next to Zara.

"So what happened back there?" Sam's voice was gentle but cautious.

"Those demons were chasing me," Zara took a munch off of her sandwich, savouring its taste. As Sam waited in anticipation for her to continue her story, Dean took a seat opposite her while Bobby pulled up in his wheelchair. "I kinda made a promise I couldn't keep, and now I'm in deep shit."

"So you made a demon deal?" Sam asked.

"What? No. It wasn't a demon. It was…" Zara took another bite, hesitating to tell them the truth. "Lucifer. It was Lucifer." She looked down, not wanting to face their gasps and shocked expressions.

"You did what now?" Bobby now spoke, his exasperation clear in his voice. "What does Satan want with you?"

"He said I'm a vessel for Sophia and he needs my help to find her. And I was cool with it at first but then I thought, 'What am I doing, working for The Devil?' so I fled, trying to get away from the demons. I found a motel and decided to stay there. And then I went to the diner to eat, and that's where you guys found me."

"Well at least you came to your senses," Bobby said, his words dripping sarcasm.

"Calm down, Bobby. She's in the same boat as us," Dean reckoned. "At least that explains the reports of a peak in demon activity in that area that we've been receiving." Zara's curiosity was piqued by this, and then she had a realisation.

"Wait… Winchesters?" she looked at Sam. " _Sam Winchester?_ The demons mentioned your name in passing."

"Yeah? Well apparently I'm supposed to be Lucifer's true vessel."

"So is he hunting you down too?"

"No, he wants me to accept him of my own accord. Because, you know, angels need the consent of their vessels to enter them."

Zara paused. "No, I don't know. I'm kinda new to this angels and demons stuff. I don't even know how much of the Bible is true."

This time Dean spoke. "Four horsemen, the Apocalypse – the whole shebang. It's all real, and it's all happening right now and we're trying to stop it." _You have got to be kidding me. The apocalypse?_ She sighed. "Okay, now back to your story. So you're saying you're the vessel of an angel named… Sophia?"

"Archangel, actually," Zara chimed in.

"Okay, archangel. Who is she? How come we've never heard of her? And what does Lucifer want with her?" Dean wondered out loud.

"I've wondered the same thing. Believe me, I don't know much. He just said he wanted her by his side when he fought his brother, Michael."

Sam looked at his brother. "Two archangels against one. That could guarantee Lucifer's victory. It would also mean double the destruction," he mused. He turned to Zara. "You need to help us."

"What can I do? I'm no hunter. I don't know how to help you."

"We can figure out the details later," Bobby interjected. "First things first, we need to know what we're up against. We need our _angel expert._ " He turned to Dean.

"Oh alright." Dean sat up straight and put his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. "Castiel, I pray for thee to get your winged butt down here, asap." And then they waited. Sure enough, a man in a brown trench coat appeared before them. His blue eyes were fixed on Zara. "Cas, this is Zara. She says she's the vessel of Sophia. Anything you can tell us about Sophia?"

Castiel looked around uncomfortably before landing his eyes back on Zara's. "We don't talk… about Sophia." Bobby and Sam exchanged worried looks. Castiel continued, "She was said to have aided Lucifer in the angelic rebellion and was cast out of Heaven with him. Some say that she was the true architect behind the rebellion and blame her for corrupting Lucifer."

"And what do you say?" Zara asked. Castiel's eyes bore into hers, both of them trying to read each other's intentions.

"She was a good, highly respected archangel who went rogue. She had many redeeming qualities so I don't understand why she turned away like she did. Not that it matters now. If she's rising to aid Lucifer, she must be stopped," Castiel added. This produced mixed feelings in Zara. From what she heard from both Lucifer and Castiel, her perception of Sophia was generally a positive one. Although her connection with Lucifer was questionable to her, it seemed more difficult to sever her emotional and physical ties to Sophia. But the Winchesters kept her safe, and if she was to be thankful for that she would have to play along so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

"So how do we stop it?" Bobby was being practical, as usual.

"I don't think it will be too difficult," Castiel pulled up a chair. "For one, the location of her prison was kept top secret so I doubt Lucifer can even find where she is being kept."

"Um… actually…" Zara held up a finger. "He kinda does know."

Dean sighed. "What else you got?" he asked Castiel.

"All information about Sophia was also kept highly secret. Humans were barely allowed to know about her. That's why the bible doesn't mention her at all. No one really knows what the seals that bind Sophia's prison require, although it was said once that only a sacrifice undertaken by Sophia's vessel could free her."

Dean's eyes lit up and he faced Zara. "Great, so Lucifer can't do jack if you don't help him. All you have to do is not do what he asks. Easy."

Castiel was still sceptical. "But what's stopping him from finding another temporary vessel?"

To that, Zara reached into her bag and fished out the hawk figurine, setting it on the table. "Lucifer found me with this. Without it, I doubt he can find another vessel."

Castiel picked up the hawk, keenly observing its features. "I recognise its make. This looks like Hassiel's craftsmanship. How does it work?"

Zara extended her palm and Castiel placed the hawk in her hand. Once again, its green eyes emanated a brilliant glow. This time, however, Zara was unwittingly pulled into a trance-like state, while the men looked to Castiel as he said, "But Hassiel was the master weapon-maker of Heaven. If he had made this, it may have some weapon-like qualities." Zara's eyes glowed a bright green as she felt angel magic flowing through her. It was a new, empowering experience, and impulsively, she focussed on the closest target – Castiel – as she released the energy.

"Who knows what this object-" Castiel doubled over in pain and yelled. She was immediately pulled out of her trance and shuddering, she dropped the hawk onto the table, releasing Castiel from his agony. Dean reached out to help him while she apologised profusely. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. That's never happened before!"

Zara's hands covered her mouth in shock. Bobby grabbed the hawk, looking at it with astonishment. He had seen many dangerous magical objects in his day, but this was new. But then again, he hadn't even known about angels for most of his life. Castiel regained his composure, with pain and unease contorting his features. He looked back and forth from the hawk to Zara. "This thing is harnessing powerful angel magic. Perhaps it is best you don't channel its power since you don't know how to properly use it."

She simply nodded, still taken aback by what she had just done. Sam placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, able to empathise with her experience. Having been cursed by the yellow-eyed demon as a baby, he knew what it was like to deal with having unexpected powers that had bad consequences. He was just glad to have her on their side when she discovered them.

"Well that settles that then," Sam sighed. "We need to get back to following our lead on the demon Crowley. He has the Colt and it may be our only chance to gank Lucifer. Cas, can you help us?"

"Sure. What have you got?"

* * *

Castiel had just come back to the Singer household. He had located Crowley's mansion but it was covered from top to bottom in angel-warding sigils. They needed another way to get in. The boys had called in Ellen and Jo to help, laying out their plans while the team stood around the table in the study. Zara sat comfortably on the couch facing them, a hot cup of tea in her hand to warm her during the chilly evening. She simply observed, while the people who knew what they were doing carried on discussing strategy. The boys and Jo would face Crowley and force him to give up the Colt, while Ellen, Bobby and Zara stayed back, waiting for their return.

Ellen was a kind lady, the colour of her hair almost as warm as her heart. While waiting for the trio to return, she sat next to Zara. Having noticed the dynamic between Ellen and her daughter, Zara could not help but ask, "How are you so confident about letting your daughter out into the field like that? I would be pretty terrified of sending my kid out into a world full of demons and monsters."

Ellen smiled, revealing her years of consideration on the same matter. "There isn't a day that I am not terrified of letting my daughter live this life. But she's been trained well and I trust the Winchesters to keep her safe. And that's all I can reasonably hope for. Besides, big things are at stake and I don't know if Jo and I could live with just standing by while the Earth suffers." This hit a chord with Zara. Could she live with being on the side-lines while the apocalypse went down, especially if she could have played a significant role in it? She wondered. _Be it a good or a bad role, something is better than nothing, is it not? It could be literally the adventure of a lifetime._

Eventually, Zara gave in to tiredness and retired to a guest bedroom to sleep before the boys could return successful with the Colt. The next day, everyone took a break. They had planned to find Lucifer in Carthage, Missouri, the day after – it was a risky plan for they could not know whether the Colt would actually kill him, but they were going to try nevertheless. It was practically a suicide mission and they were going to spend all of Wednesday reminiscing and having some laughs before they had to face the inevitable.

"We're going to gear up and we're going to head in straight. We're going to jam salt into every demon that's in our way until we get to Lucifer and then I'm going to take a shot. Then we hope for the best," Dean laid out the plan to Zara. Dean, Sam and Zara sat around the table in the study while Ellen, Jo and Castiel were taking shots in the kitchen – or rather, Cas was taking shot after shot without the slightest sign of drunkenness while Ellen and Jo looked on with pleasant surprise. Angels, man.

Dean was taking a gulp of beer. Nodding, Zara asked, "So what time are we leaving?"

Dean stopped midway and set his bottle down on the table. " _We_ aren't leaving. You are staying behind with Bobby while the rest of us go on this mission. We can't risk Lucifer capturing you."

She rolled her eyes. "But _Dean,_ you saw what I could do with the hawk. If I could do that to Castiel, maybe I can incapacitate Lucifer. It could help you get a better shot."

"No. Not happening. It's too risky."

"But any chance we get to weaken Lucifer we _have_ to take it! You're thinking about how likely I am to get caught, but all I'm saying is we are more likely to succeed if you take me with you." Dean sighed, considering his options. "I'm not going to sit by while I could do something to help. I could probably take out some of the demons too!"

"Fine, but you are staying close to me, alright? Do as I say and no sight-seeing."

"Yes, sir." Zara smiled, congratulating herself internally.

Sam chuckled. He felt uncertain about the whole mission, however. "But it's gotta be a trap right?" he asked his brother.

"Sam Winchester having trust issues with a demon. Well, better late than never."

"And thank you again for your continued support."

"You're welcome."

Zara tuned out of their conversation. She was extremely uncertain about her ability to carry through with the mission. Just like that, she signed up to step back into the deep waters she had just escaped from, but now she found herself on the other side. Was it really a sense of righteousness that drove her, or was it simply a daredevil compulsion to go back in the jaws of danger? There was a sense of familiarity she felt when she thought about going back to Lucifer. As much as she wanted to protect her newfound friends and stay on the right path, the morally concrete one that treats all demons as evil, Lucifer had been her God for years. She could recall the darker times in her past and how discovering Lucifer's self-affirming values in a world without meaning drove her to become a better version of herself. He taught her the importance of individuality, encouraged her to find solace within herself instead of others and developed in her the thirst for knowledge. She could feel herself become lightheaded as she realised the gravity of her decision. Either way, I'm going to betray someone, she thought woefully. Before she could come to terms with herself, Dean had got up.

"Want some beer?" he asked her.

"No thanks, I don't drink," Zara smiled in thanks.

"Suit yourself," Dean shrugged, heading to the fridge. He seemed to be enamoured by the sight of Jo that night.

Zara and Sam were left alone at the table.

"So, Zara, what were you doing before all of this? Before Lucifer found you?"

"I was trying to get my PhD in neuroscience."

Sam raised his eyebrows in admiration. "Wow," Sam paused, unable to find the words to describe his awe. "I mean… wow, that's pretty cool. I hope you get back to your normal life after this."

"Yeah, I hope," Zara had mixed opinions about that, though she did not show it. "What about you? Were you always a hunter?"

"Well… it's complicated. My brother and I were born into this life. We didn't have much of a choice. It's our family business. But I did almost finish college once."

"Oh, what were you studying?"

"Law."

Now it was her turn to be surprised. "Impressive," she said, and they both shared friendly glances.

"Everybody, get in here," Bobby called out. He had just dug out an old camera from who-knows-where. "It's time for the line-up. Usual suspects in the corner." Everyone entered, standing in front of the camera.

"Oh come on, Bobby. Nobody wants their picture taken," Ellen responded.

"Hear, hear," acknowledged Sam.

"Shut up. You're drinking my beer," Bobby retorted. "Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."

"Ha! Always good to have an optimist around," Ellen answered.

Castiel was bleak. "Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth."

Suddenly everyone wasn't so merry anymore. The camera clicked and a flash of white light filled the room briefly. An air of trepidation loomed over the household as everyone retired to get a good night's sleep before D-Day.


	18. The Depth of Satan's Eyes

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N: This chapter is set in Abandon All Hope, S5E10.

 **Chapter 18: The Depth of Satan's Eyes**

Long hours spent alone remained fresh in her memory. Zara had little friends and they were always the odd ones out. Not like that was much of a problem either. _Who needs normie friends anyway?_ People always thought of her as someone who was friendly but shy, but little did they know that this was more due to a sense of detachment from the world than real compassion and just a face she put on. She could smile and hold a normal conversation, all while wishing nothing but misfortune on the person she was talking to. Somehow she always had this darkness inside her, though she remained civil enough to avoid any serious repercussions. Perhaps she was just born to be the Devil's escort.

Normally this would be inconsequential to ruminate on, but now she possibly held the fate of the world in her hands. When it became time to decide – and she was optimistic to believe that there would be a choice – whose side would she take? Was there anything in her, really, that strongly urged her to do the "right" thing? Even if the world did end up getting destroyed, it would just be but one spectacle in one miniscule corner of the universe; it didn't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things – or did it? This kept Zara's mind preoccupied while she sat at the backseat of the Impala with the Winchesters at the front. Ellen, Jo and Castiel were tagging along in a separate vehicle to Carthage, Missouri.

It was raining when they arrived. The Impala stopped at the side of the road and Ellen pulled up next to it. "Place seem a little empty to you?" Ellen inquired. It _was_ empty to the point that it was eerie. The shops all had half-working lights, still flickering with effort. Through rain-spotted windows, Zara saw a coffee shop and there were still cups and plates of pastry on the tables. The cups had browned rims – no one had cleared them in a few days. The tables and chairs, however, were intact for the most part. It was as if everyone just up and left at the same time and in an almost-orderly fashion.

"We're gonna go check out the PD. You guys stay here, see if you can find anybody," Dean instructed. _I highly doubt that,_ Zara thought. Zara had worn Sophia's _kohl_ that day so she blinked to activate her _magic vision,_ as she called it. She immediately suppressed a gasp as she saw several figures standing on the road. As she focused on them, she noticed their dark appearance. These things were standing still but they seemed to be alive. She had no idea what they were and several possibilities filled her mind. But she didn't want to voice her concerns since she wanted to keep her _magic vision_ secret – she had reservations that the Winchesters didn't take too well to magic and supernatural abilities, given that they already wanted her to stay as far away from Lucifer and Sophia as possible. Intent on focusing on the task at hand, Zara blinked again, returning to her normal vision.

"You alright back there?" Sam asked Zara, somehow sensing her apprehension.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

Dean continued driving and they reached the desolate entrance of the police station. Again, everything was in order and the only thing that seemed out of place - that seemed alive - was the flickering lights **.** Simply stepping through the threshold gave Zara the heebie-jeebies. _Face your fears,_ she told herself. _You will become stronger._ They stood silently observing the waiting room. Chairs were lined up neatly along the corners near the entrance. There was a counter with a glass barrier a few feet from the entrance which had a keycard-accessed door that led to a back room **.** On either side of the counter was a corridor that extended to the back of the station. The offices of various policemen were situated along the corridors.

Sam and Dean had their shotguns in hand as they split up, Dean giving them signals to do so. Sam went to the left corridor and Zara followed Dean to the right. They both treaded slowly, making as little noise as possible. Zara kept looking back while Dean opened the doors to the offices. The fact that absolutely no one was present in such an essential facility added to its creep factor and Zara, breath abated with fear and worry, felt a little excited. At the end of the hallway, the two separate corridors met and further extended to the prison. Sam came out of the prison area and shook his head at his brother. "No one's in there," he remarked.

"No one's in the office too," Dean said, surprised. "It's like everyone just skipped town. At the same time."

"Let's just get back to Ellen and Jo," Sam replied.

The rain had ceased and the sun peaked out from the grey sky when the team reunited. "Well, this is great, we've been in town twenty minutes and already lost the angel up our sleeve," Dean lamented.

"You think, uh, you think Lucifer got him?" Sam sounded anxious.

"I don't know what else to think."

Just as they turned a corner on the road, a familiar voice resounded behind them.

"There you are."

They turned around to find a short brown-haired woman with a gleeful smile. Zara recognized her as Meg, the demon who was part of Lucifer's entourage. And apparently so did the Winchesters.

"Meg." Sam's voice hinted a rough history with the demon.

"You shouldn't have come here boys," Meg gloated. Then she eyed Zara. "And you shouldn't have left."

"Hell, I could say the same thing for you," Dean retorted, pulling out the Colt and aiming it at her head as he stepped forward.

"Didn't come here alone, Dean-o." Meg's head tilted to her right, gesturing to the ground. Immediately, growling noises that resembled those of dogs emanated from the space where she was standing. The hairs on Zara's arms stood up as she contemplated the presence of invisible dog monsters. Once again, she blinked to activate her _magic vision_ and she saw, right there in the daylight, two of the ugliest hounds she had ever seen. They were both large, had an inordinate amount of fur and bore teeth that threatened to rip human skin to shreds. And they were standing eagerly next to Meg, eyeing the team hungrily. Dean and the others looked around to guess where the dogs were, but Zara's gaze was fixed with the knowledge of what they were up against.

"Hellhounds," Dean said, the gaze of his green eyes hard as steel.

"Yeah, Dean. Your favourite." Meg relished. Her voice then turned serious. "Come on, boys. My father wants to see you. Oh and don't worry, _Zara_ , I'm sure he has special plans for you too." Zara's brown eyes glinted a lighter shade in the sun, refusing to meet Meg's gaze.

"I think we'll pass, thanks," Sam called out.

"Your call. You can make this easy or you can make it really, really hard." A hellhound growled maliciously. Dean looked at Ellen, who was standing a few feet behind him. Ellen nodded, and Dean turned back to Meg.

"When have you known us to ever make anything easy?" Dean switched his aim to a hellhound and pulled the trigger, injuring a hellhound.

"Run!" yelled Sam.

Everyone turned heels and took off. As Zara ran, a loud thud resounded behind her and she turned to see Dean sprawled prone on the ground. A hellhound had tackled him. She instinctively stopped and turned to help Dean.

"Dean!" Jo yelled.

"Jo stay back!" Dean ordered.

She had also turned back and was now firing shotgun shells filled with salt at the hellhound. Supplementing Jo's efforts, Zara concentrated on the hawk, returning to the familiar state of power flowing through her. She extended her hand towards the hellhound and tried to project the energy. In a flash,the hellhound flew backwards into a trash can. But alas, her relief was temporary.

Jo had advanced towards Dean just as the hellhound flew back, but that was when another one tackled Jo from behind. Her breath left her in a sudden yelp and, pinned to the ground, she began a frantic tussle with the hellhound. At the same time, forceful hands grabbed Zara's arms and she turned to look into the inky black eyes of none other than Martin and Greg. Panic overcame her and she screamed. By this time, the hellhound's claws had torn into Jo's abdomen and opened a large gash on her body, spraying blood all over her torso and face. In that moment, it was as though time had slowed down. Zara struggled to break free of her captors and as she met Dean's gaze, she saw him frozen in time, having to choose between getting Jo out of there or coming to her rescue.

Without a second thought, Dean picked up Jo and raced towards Sam and Ellen, while the demons dragged Zara away. Zara blinked as the trio rushed into a hardware store, shooting salt bullets in all directions while she was abandoned to her fate. She had stopped struggling.

Zara was not listening to a single word Martin was saying. She sat on a bed in an abandoned apartment on the second floor and contemplated what had just happened. She clearly remembered the look of dejection and hopelessness on Dean's face as he looked at her. It must have been a difficult decision for him but it wasn't a surprise that he had chosen Jo over her. Jo was someone he knew personally and he wasn't going to choose a stranger. Because that's what people do **,** isn't it? People will go to the ends of the earth to save their loved ones over everyone else. Ultimately, it wasn't about the greater good out there – there is no greater good other than to protect oneself and one's own family. _It's every man for himself._ Zara clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig white crescents into her palms. She took a deep, shaky breath. _What next?_

"-are you even listening to me?" Martin's voice faded into awareness. Zara's head jerked up at him. She flipped him off. Martin's frown deepened in response. "The boss only said to bring you in alive. He never said anything about not hurting you!"

Martin walked toward her briskly. She yelped and pushed her arm towards him, impulsively sending another bolt of energy at him. Martin flew back, hitting the wall hard. Zara stood up, invigorated by her ability. Martin got back up again, only more pissed this time. He snarled and stormed towards her, his burly arms flexed at his sides. She tried hitting him again but she found that she couldn't. _Well shit,_ she thought, as Martin closed the gap between them quickly and backhanded her. She fell to the floor, unconscious.

It was night time when she awoke. Nostalgia rushed in as she found herself, yet again, gaining consciousness on a bed in a strange room. Except this time, she could feel pain pulsing in her left temple. She touched it gingerly, trying to gauge the extent of damage.

"Demon-induced concussion," Zara winced. "That's a first."

She scanned her room was dark except for the dim moonlight that streamed in from the window. Suddenly, a large explosion sounded in the distance, causing her to jump. There were murmurs outside the door and Zara silently crept close to it, trying to listen to the voices.

"She's been apprehended, sir." It was Greg.

"Good." The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she recognised Lucifer's voice. "I'll have a chat with her once I'm done with the summoning." Footsteps shuffled and Zara quickly retreated to the bed. The door opened and her bodyguards entered, Greg carrying a tray of food which he then placed on the table next to the bed. The inexplicable explosion and the sensation of pure fear that Zara could not help but feel had left her stomach muscles tense. She had no appetite despite having not eaten for several hours.

"Eat," Martin ordered. Zara turned her head away. Martin huffed in annoyance. She stood up and, with trembling legs, walked to the window. Looking at the night sky always calmed her, and to the same end she sought the window. But the scene outside was no consolation either. The apartment overlooked a graveyard and there was a whole crowd of men – demons, as she discovered later – looking on as Lucifer dug into the soil with a shovel.

Moments later, two figures emerged from the cover of trees and bushes next to the graveyard. _Sam and Dean?_ Zara wondered. Ellen and Jo weren't with them. _The explosion._ Zara's heart sank at the possibility. As the boys approached Lucifer, he was distracted by Sam's presence while Dean had snuck up closer to him and aimed the Colt at his forehead. Being so far away, Zara could not make out what they were saying, but the loud noise of the Colt emptying a bullet into Lucifer's head was clear. Lucifer dropped to the floor, limp. Zara looked on with anticipation, confused for a moment. But Lucifer only got back up, much to the shock of the Winchesters, who stood frozen where they were.

Lucifer looked visibly vexed and delivered a swift blow to Dean, knocking him backwards into a tree. Lucifer returned to digging and Sam rushed to his brother's side, checking to see if he was okay. Zara held her breath as Sam slowly stood up. She could tell he was expressing his anger towards Lucifer, and she admired his courage in being able to do so. She realised she would have to be able to do the same if she was to get what she needed from him. Lucifer turned to the crowd of demons and they all recited some sort of prayer. As soon as it ended, flashes of light emanated from each of their heads and their bodies dropped to the ground like dominoes as Lucifer just stood observing. Zara's eyes widened in shock.

All of a sudden, the Earth started to shake and Lucifer stretched his arms to the side, as though commanding the Earth itself. Zara held onto the window sill for support as she continued to watch. A flash of bright light appeared as Castiel got to the boys and transported them away from the scene. Now it was just her in a pool of demons, awaiting her meeting with Lucifer. The Earth opened up in front of Lucifer and a large dark cloud rose, blocking the moonlight from her window. The instantaneous darkness that enveloped the room had caused Zara a great deal of panic, and she decided that any more magical surprises would cause her to get a heart attack. Once the moonlight returned, she backed away from the window and sat back on the bed while the demons watched. Her back against the headboard, she clutched a pillow close to her chest for comfort, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to think straight and relax her tense muscles, but her palpitating heart and high levels of adrenaline made her queasy and prevented her from replenishing herself with the food that had been brought to her, putting her and the two demons in an uncomfortable position.

After long enough, he came.

Lucifer entered the room and the demon bodyguards immediately straightened up. His gaze was fixed on Zara as he approached slowly.

"She won't eat, sir!" Martin complained.

Lucifer didn't seem fazed. "Leave us the room," he ordered. The demons complied.

Zara didn't bother to look up. She didn't want to see his expression. But so far, it was calmer than she expected – like a calm before the storm, perhaps. He took a seat in front of her on the bed, continuing to study her expression. "You haven't touched your food," he began.

"I don't feel like eating." Her voice was meek and soft. Lucifer picked up the plate, using a fork to stir the spaghetti. To her surprise, he extended a fork of spaghetti to her lips, like a parent feeding a child. Not wanting to be rude, she obliged, trying to read his intentions.

"So how did you do it?" he asked calmly.

"Your demons aren't that smart, no offence."

"Ah… it's so hard to get good help these days." Lucifer fed her another fork-full. "But I'm still impressed. Plus, Martin told me about what you did earlier in… excruciating detail. You appear to be channeling Sophia's magic."

"That would make sense."

She noticed the bloody sores on his face and unable to suppress the question, she asked. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh this?" Lucifer pointed to his temple. "It's what happens when your true vessel won't let you in and you have to settle for a temporary one." _Salty._

"Oh."

Zara contemplated whether or not to ask the question burning at the back of her mind. Finally, in a small voice, she asked,"Are you mad at me?" _Zara Joshi, everyone. The girl who used puppy eyes to win favour with Satan._

Lucifer set the plate back down. "Mad? You only said you trusted me and then broke our deal. Of course I'm _mad_." His face held a quizzical look.

"I came back, Lucifer," she set the pillow aside.

"I know, I know. But you're still not off the hook." His finger pointed accusatively at her. "I just want to understand why you did it."

"I wasn't thinking straight and I… I panicked."

Lucifer sighed. He shifted closer to Zara. "Maybe I haven't made our arrangement clear enough for you." His expression flipped, like a switch, from one of calm to one of utter animosity. He then grabbed her arm and suddenly, they weren't in that bedroom anymore.

* * *

It was pitch black. Zara could feel her limbs and move them around but they seemed restricted. She began struggling and realised that she was bound at the wrist and ankles. Her breathing became shallower as she began to feel constricted and realised that her surroundings were really warm. Then, two deep red eyes appeared before her in the darkness. Just as she stared into those scarlet eyes, an intense wave of pain hit her and she screamed in agony. Her back was struck with two thorn-ridden lashes, which had now bore deep into her skin on either side of her spine. She doubled over, her eyes tightly shut and tearing up. She began to feel dizzy when a hand touched her shoulder and the pain dissipated momentarily. Awareness of her body returned and she realised that she was not clothed in this warm, dark space. She could still feel the uncomfortable presence of the lashes under her skin and it was as though a scab had formed over them.

Lucifer grabbed her neck and held her chin up. "You see, Zara, I don't like working with indecisive people. And I really thought we were working so well together!" He took a moment to observe the features of her face before leaning in. "Now, I don't like giving people second chances. But you… I like you, Zara. You chose your own destiny and you didn't let other people dictate your choices. I can relate to that. And I can make you greater." He released his grip, leaving her body to drop like a ragdoll. Amidst the pain, the last sentence invoked some obscure optimism in Zara.

Panting, she asked, "Then why do you inflict pain on me?"

Lucifer knelt down and cupped her face with his palms, easing his grip. "This pain… it is not torture… but a lesson." He caressed her cheek with a thumb. "I want you to know that I do this not out of spite, but out of _love._ I want you to grow and become strong. That _is_ what you wanted, isn't it? Whatever I do to you, I would never hurt you. Not really. Do you understand?"

Zara blinked tears away. She wanted to accept the pain – the gift he was giving her. For so long, she had craved suffering for the sake of becoming stronger. But her life was too easy, too simple. Suddenly the reasons for which she feared seeing Lucifer again became so trivial. This was her path – where she was meant to be. If this would lead her to fulfil her rightful destiny, then she would accept what was to come. Concentrating, she activated her _magic vision._ Now she could _see._

The arms that held her face in a loving grasp, the sculpted form that humans, God and angels shared, the three pairs of wings that had curled around them and the face of the archangel that rebelled – she took it all in. She knew that God's favourite son also had to be his most beautiful son. But seeing his beauty first-hand was an overwhelmingly breathtaking experience – Zara could feel herself becoming lightheaded. Unable to tear her gaze away from Lucifer, her lips quivered as she sucked in a deep breath. "Y-yes, I understand," the question returned to her memory.

Zara's eyes had flashed green. Recognition of what she had done struck Lucifer and he only gazed at her more lovingly, although he was surprised at the fact that her eyes had not burned out yet from seeing his true form. "Good. We're just getting started."

With a swift flick of the arm, Lucifer yanked out the lashes from beneath her skin, reopening the wounds and hurling her back into a state of pure and unbridled torment. With only the consolation of The Devil's promise, Zara yielded to the painful whips and bloodthirsty cuts. When he was done, he cupped her face again and gently planted a kiss on her forehead, whispering words of encouragement that she was too tired to listen to. Just as she felt her pain fade amidst the dreamy fog of Lucifer's warmth, Zara was instantly bound and forced to face his wrath again. The cycle continued and she became unable to distinguish tenderness from pain – she loved and craved for both. Each caress felt like a burn and each lashing felt like a whisper on her skin. Finally, Zara gave in to fatigue and she found herself falling from a precipice with wind billowing in her face. The last memory she had before darkness settled was of arms curling around her waist and thighs, lifting her up.

When she opened her eyes again, she woke up in a bedroom with cement walls and a brick ceiling. She lifted the covers to find that she was still naked. But there were several scars on her skin. Finding a tall mirror in the corner of the room on the right side of the bed, she stood in front of it to get a better look at herself. Her skin was healed and there was no pain, but Lucifer hadn't healed the scars – a deliberate inclusion, perhaps. Turning to see her back, the most marked scars lay adjacent to her spine, appearing like wounds from clipped wings. She traced these ridges with her fingers, feeling the soft skin.

Clothes weren't difficult to find. A closet full of clothes her size was at the other corner of the room, left to the bed. The cement floor was comfortably warm – something she could appreciate. Zara also took the time to admire a stained glass window on a wall between two cement fixtures. It showed the image of two men with their hand raised to strike what appeared to be a wolf. _Such a curious scene,_ she thought. The animalistic imagery caught her attention, until hunger drove her to leave the room in search of food.

She peaked her head out the door as she opened it. No one was there. Just an empty corridor with stone walls and the overhead lights. She stood in the corridor, wondering which direction to go in. She heard people talking in the distance so she followed the sounds to find a group of demons conversing. As soon as she approached, all of them stopped talking and faced her with black eyes. Caught by surprise, Zara didn't know what to say or do. So she just raised her chin, and said in a regal tone, "I'm hungry," and hoped for the best.

Then one of them, a lady wearing a maid's outfit stepped forward. "Of course, miss. Right this way." Her ginger curls bounced as she led the way to the kitchen, with Zara trailing behind. The kitchen was small. There was a table at the centre with a marble top and a stove set-up with shelves above the counter and drawers below. A refrigerator was also next to the kitchen counter.

The demon gave Zara a warm smile. "Please do take a seat, miss. I'll try to cook up something for you. Are scrambled eggs okay? Oh and how rude of me – I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Darla." Her kind demeanour seemed strange to Zara but she went along with it.

"Nice to meet you, Darla. And yes, scrambled eggs would be fine." Zara laced her fingers together on the tabletop and whispered, "So Darla, where am I?"

Darla chuckled as she opened a drawer and pulled out a frying pan. "I thought you'd know by now darlin'. You're in Hell."

Zara held her breath. After a pause, she smirked. _Got here sooner than I expected_.


	19. The Zombie Queen

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 19: The Zombie Queen**

It was so strange – she could breathe underwater. Lucifer had created a protective bubble around the both of them… sort of. They were both still drenched but the water pressure was alleviated and enough air was present to allow Zara to breathe. She was invigorated and they both set out to finally find Sophia, with Zara's hands clinging onto Lucifer's shoulders behind him while he navigated the deep waters. She used her _magic vision_ to see, although the light from Lucifer's luminescent eyes would have been enough. She was just fascinated by the fact that she was able to see things she normally wouldn't have been able to see with her naked eyes, not to mention that her eyes also emitted the bright green glow of Sophia's eyes.

"Lucifer, look!" She pointed down at the seabed. There were markings that glowed a distinctive shade of purple. Diving past a school of fish, they inspected the markings. It was composed of a four-ended symbol that had very distinctive markings on each end. The symbol was in turn enclosed in a circle while a straight line extended from each end of the symbol outwards along the seabed into the distance.

"It appears to be some kind of Enochian puzzle." Lucifer traced the symbol with a finger. He read it carefully, and then translated it for Zara.

" _Air, Fire, Water, Earth._

 _The holiest number guides the way,_

 _For her to rise._

"That's not cryptic at all." Lucifer sighed.

Zara's eyebrows creased in thought. " _The holiest number…_ " She said out loud. "Sounds obvious. Could it be… 666?"

Lucifer huffed. Sure, the number held cosmic significance but he was tired of hearing humans use it to represent him. In their fear of him, humanity just made themselves look silly by looking for him in everything. This was just another example of how the human race tainted the divine order, he thought. "66 seals were opened for me to be free," Lucifer added. "What does that have to do with the four elements?"

Zara scrunched her eyebrows in thought. Having been drawn to the mystical aspects of religions, she had read a great number of things and it seemed she was the right person to put it all together. "Well, in the Jewish Kabbalah, 666 is also the number obtained from summing up the numbers in the magic square of the Sun. So if the Sun is the clue… "for her to rise" refers to sunrise, which is represented by air _._ So we need to follow the line that extends from 'air'." She loved puzzles.

"You've done your research, haven't you?"Lucifer remarked. Zara blushed and looked away.

As they followed the line, they found a rock face covered with a dense overgrowth of marine foliage. Lucifer summoned fire to burn the foliage, revealing two large doors. "That must be it," Zara's voice held admiration for the intricate design of the entrance. On each door, there was a series of holes arranged in an identical pattern as the other door. Two parallel columns consisting of three holes flanked the middle one with four holes, of which the first and second were separated by a large spacing.

Lucifer looked through the holes. "It seems like there are handles at the end of each crevice. Maybe we're supposed to pull one on each door to open it. But which ones?"

"I'm not sure, but I sure as hell ain't sticking my hand in a strange hole without being sure that it'll work." Zara sighed. "Let me think."

Looking at the doors as a whole, they didn't know what to make of it. But Zara was a smart girl. The pattern wasn't obvious at first but, looking at each individual door, she found it to be strikingly familiar. All that time she had spent reading up on different religions, she had secretly felt guilty for wasting her time. But as it turned out, it wasn't all useless. She let out a laugh of victory. "Of course!" she exclaimed as she used her fingers to connect the dots in the water, her legs gripping onto Lucifer's waist for support as she rose above his shoulders.

"Mind sharing with the group what you may have found?"

"It's the Sephirot – the 10 emanations from the Kabbalah." She paused to think. "If 666 is the holiest number, then we must pull the handle in the hole representing Tiphareth. I mean it makes sense. The number of Tiphareth is 6 and the archangel governing it is-"

"-Raphael," Lucifer interjected. His expression grew sour at the mention of his brother's name. "He was the one who imprisoned Sophia."

Zara took note of the tension in his voice. The earlier enthusiasm in her tone dimming, she continued. "If I'm not mistaken, it is the hole at the centre."

Lucifer's palm rested on the edge of the crevice. "Let's hope for the best," he said as he plunged his hand into the hole. Latching onto the handle, he pulled. He grunted as he tugged but then immediately withdrew his hand in pain. His palm and fingers were singed, but he soon healed the burns. Then he grabbed Zara's hand and guided her in front of him. "I think you have to do it." As she gave him a quizzical look, he explained. "You're the vessel. If you could find this place, you are the only one who can open it."

Fear gripped her from what she had seen it do to his hand. It was a big 'if' and she didn't know if she was ready to take the risk. But Lucifer could heal her, she realised, so she drew in a deep breath and reached into the hole. Her left arm was around Lucifer's shoulders as her right hand went arm-deep into the opening and found the handle. As she pulled with all her strength, it gave way and shifted, but its movement was limited. She wasn't strong enough.

"Hold on," Lucifer instructed, as he grabbed her arm with both his hands and pulled. Finally, the handle emerged from the hole and clicked into place. A deep rumbling sound emanated from beyond the doors and ceased after a while. Switching arms, they did the same thing for the other door. Once again, the rumbling noise resounded and with a triumphant propelling of water current from inside the vault, the doors swung open. Zara had to hold onto Lucifer tightly to avoid getting swept away by the current, keeping her head against his shoulder. When the water became stable again, she looked up to see Lucifer's steadfast gaze into the vault. He seemed absolutely enthralled by it.

"You did it," he smiled, the light of happiness reaching his eyes. He held her by the waist as they both ventured into the unknown depths of the vault. A tunnel seemed to extend inwards. Torches lit up with the blue flame of sulfur along the walls. When they reached the end, they found yet another door. As they tried to go closer to it, two figures emerged at its sides. Zara thought they were rock statues that acted as decorations, but when they growled menacingly she gasped. They were dressed in armour from head to toe and held a spear in a guarding position. "What are they?" she asked.

"I don't know. Let's find out." Lucifer approached the door. The figures moved swiftly and their arms stretched, crossing their spears in an 'X' formation in front of the door, as though to ban passage through it. Suddenly, one of them spoke in some incomprehensible tongue. "It's Enochian," Lucifer explained. He then said something in Enochian, and the figure replied. "They are the guardians of this vault," he translated. The figure then continued speaking. "It's a poem…

" _Wisdom's release_

 _Takes no prisoner;_

 _Only a soul offered to a Fallen_

 _With pure intention;_

 _And a sacrifice to Khaos_

 _Of her own essence_ "

The figures then extended a hand each, and stood silently. Zara looked to Lucifer for answers. "I think it means that there are three conditions for Sophia to be set free: you need to be a fully-consenting vessel, you need to give me your soul, and something about a sacrifice to something called 'Khaos' – I don't know what that part means," he clarified. "I suppose you already satisfy the first condition. Maybe this is the second one." Lucifer held the outstretched hand of one of the guards in one hand, and Zara's in another. He then beckoned for her to do the same, but a momentary hesitation gripped her. She would need to give him her soul and that didn't seem like a light decision.

Would she still have her soul after the process? Or would she just be a vessel without a soul? What did that even mean? But now was not the time for doubts. They had come so far, and it shouldn't be for nothing. Zara felt the familiar mixture of worry and anticipation rekindling as she placed her free hand on the guard's hand. Suddenly, a purple light radiated from the guards and flowed through the both of them and as they looked on, a visible black thread seemed to connect both of them. Purple marks were inscribed onto their arms, the patterns being identical for Zara and Lucifer. Soon, the light faded away and so did the thread. The guards then moved back into their initial positions and the door opened before them.

"Wait, what about the third condition?" Zara asked.

"The door's open. So I guess the third condition isn't as important as we thought," he shrugged.

"Well, I'm not complaining." And so they continued further down before encountering a big room. At the centre there was a pit of unidentifiable black fluid surrounded by 4 pillars. Against one pillar rested a trident. As Lucifer ran his finger along the tips of the triton, he pulled back in disgust, feelinganger flow through him. Sophia's essence was coated on it, from the time she was so rudely impaled by Raphael. He wanted so bad to blame Michael for everything, since he was the oldest and everyone listened to him. But he remembered the sheer _glee_ in Raphael's eyes when he hurt Sophia and this angered him. Lucifer knew Sophia would want revenge and he swore to help her get it when the apocalypse was over.

Zara now heard a voice from the pit. It was the same voice that called her the night she met Lucifer. Giving in to its call, she reached her hand into the pit, surprised by the texture of the substance. "Yes," she whispered to it. Something grabbed her hand from within it and a bright light erupted from the pit. As the light grew brighter she fell back, and Lucifer rushed to grab her unconscious body.

He held her jaw with his palm and shook her head, trying to get a response. "Sophia? Are you there? Zara?" Discouraged by the lack of response, he stopped. But he could feel Sophia. She was definitely in there. He had finally found her.

* * *

 **(Sophia's POV)**

I opened my eyes. Or rather, I opened her eyes – Zara's. Light filled my irises and I felt every photon. It was the first time in a long time – a _very_ long time – that I was exposed to light. It almost felt like another universe, like when I first stepped into this universe. I was staring up at a brick ceiling and I tried moving my limbs. For a moment I just gazed at my own hands, studying the absurd feeling of being contained within a vessel. I felt transcendent – I could shift between the spiritual and material realms at will. Getting up, I realised that I had been placed on a couch in the bedroom. _My bedroom._ I ran my fingers along the seams of the upholstery, savouring my newfound sense of architecture was familiar – I was in Hell. It certainly looked a lot different from what I remembered it to be; it must have been renovated over the past several years. How many years has it been? I lost count after the first 3000. I dug into Zara's memories. 2009 AD. Two hundred thousand years from the start of my prison sentence. The language was different too. I picked it up quickly.

I placed my feet on the floor and walked around the room slowly, relishing this freedom with every step. My bare skin was cold and my hair was wet. It was clear that my vessel was made uncomfortable by this so I heated up my body temperature and expelled the water from my hair. _Better_. Looking around, I found a mirror and stood before it, observing my new body. From her features, it was evident that humans had evolved significantly since the last time I saw them. Zara's skin was a lot smoother and her facial features were more delicate and distinctive than the hunter-gatherers I had seen. But then again, there were these strange scars on her skin. Digging into her recent memory allowed me to understand what had happened – it was all part of Lucifer's _persuasion_. I would have to take care of that. Some things didn't change, it seemed.

"I see that you're up." I spun quickly, worried that I was in danger again. I was ready to attack when I saw his face. He, for whom I was ready to die so long ago. He was in his own vessel and was leaning against the closed door.

"It has been too long, lover," I managed to say with a soft voice.

Looking at his gentle smile I could not help but let a tear fall from my eyes. In a matter of seconds, we reunited in a sweet embrace and exchanged passionate kisses. His hands wrapped around my waist while mine were around his shoulders and he carried me onto the bed nearby. I relished his familiar cold touch as his fingers traced my body from my waist to my thighs. Within moments, I peeled his clothes off and we lay skin to skin, unhindered by barriers. Heat rose between us as we explored each other like we had done so long ago when we both knew it was sin. Having been separated for so long, this passion was unbridled. We both gave and took from each other what we wanted hungrily, now exploring new possibilities with our human vessels. If we went any harder at each other the bed would have given way and the room could have exploded.

Soon, we paused, panting heavily from the effort. Nestled comfortably under him, I cupped his face with my hands and he rested his forehead on mine. "Your vessel… it's damaged." Planting a kiss on his cheek, I healed his vessel. The open sores closed and colour returned to his skin. This would work, for now. His loving gaze in that moment was a right that I had been deprived of for millennia. And this made my blood boil. I wanted _revenge._ But that would have to come later. Right now, I had Lucifer and he was all that mattered.

"I missed you," he said, kissing me on the lips. I let out a deep breath, my chest aching with the same emotion he was feeling.

"I don't ever want to be apart from you again," I confessed. No words could express the pain I'd been through in the vault. It wasn't just the life-sucking creatures but also the crushing loneliness. Ever since I'd been brought into this universe, I had Lucifer by my side and I always found sanctuary in his love, his embrace, no matter what. To have him so abruptly taken away from me was a cruelty I hadn't thought God to be capable of.

"I will never let that happen," he promised. "The apocalypse is our chance to finally win."

I averted my eyes, staring at the stained glass on the other wall of the room. Thinking about the apocalypse made me feel uneasy. It wasn't that I didn't see it as something we deserved – a reckoning between Heaven and Hell to reconcile our positions – but the game appeared rigged. Everything had always been rigged from the start. The Garden, the Mark, the Fall – we played our part and followed the truth where we found it, but we always lost. I just didn't want to lose Lucifer again.

"Something on your mind, Sophie?" his reassuring voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

My head turned back to him and I found him staring back at me with a concerned look. I studied his beautiful features like it was the first time we were meeting. In a sense, we were. The scarlet eyes, the amber hair, the soft lips, the angled jaw, the shiny white wings with the cute red flecks interspersed among the feathers… I loved everything about him and it would hurt me to see him frown or sad. "Just how much I love you," I replied, masking my doubts about the apocalypse.

His lips creased into a smile and his eyes lit up. Pressing his lips into my neck and kissing me one more time, he pulled me up onto my feet and we both got dressed. Lucifer took a step back and extended a hand, bowing. "May I show the queen around?"

"You may," I laughed as I took his hand. Together, we sauntered down the corridors and I noted many strange things. The electrically-powered torches, for one. I wondered how far humanity had advanced. By the looks of Hell, I had so much to catch up on.

As we stood in the throne room, demons gathered before us. "Bow down before your Queen, my children," he ordered. The demons obliged. "With Sophia by my side, we will rain evil upon the Earth!" The demons cheered and so began the celebrations. Yes, Lucifer did go through the trouble of organising a celebration. I thought it was cheesy and unnecessary but he was always better at having fun than me. Human intestines lined the walls and stomachs were stuffed with unidentifiable chunks of meat. Demons would take turns to hit it while blindfolded and they cheered when a blow caused the tattered ball to drop. They called it a piñata. Such curious traditions. While the demons scrambled for their fleshy trophies, absinthe was served and pure depravity ensued. I expected nothing less from these creatures. Some of them even lined up to be tortured by Lucifer. They seemed to absolutely love it.

I was just sitting by the sidelines when Lucifer turned to me and beckoned me to take part. My past of suffering came to mind and needless to say, I was up for it. He passed me the whip and I circled the demon, building up tension until a wave of frustration overcame me. I let it all out. I finally understood what Lucifer had felt all those years ago when he created the first demon. Pure anger like nothing else – inflicting pain on those that could feel was the only way I could alleviate mine. Maybe I should create demons of my own. But they were still disgusting, degenerate creatures. I would kill them as a mercy. Which was what I did in that instant. I grabbed the demon by the neck and lifted him up, staring into his black eyes as I crushed his corrupted soul. Silence fell over the room. I dropped the lifeless body onto the floor and looked up as it made a resounding thud. The demons were wide-eyed with uneasiness and some were even shuddering.

Lucifer clapped his hands twice. "Clean up on aisle 7!" his voice boomed. In an instant, the celebratory atmosphere was demons dragged the body away by its limbs and, as I watched the blood trace their path, a jarring image of a gutted lamb came to mind. Sighing, I took a seat on the steps in front of the throne, sipping on some absinthe. I suspected that I had left a lasting impression on the demons. Lucifer sat next to me, his back resting on the throne.

"Are you judging me?" I asked.

"Honey, I'm the last one to judge you for anything. Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" He shifted closer to me. "But that being said, is there anything you want to tell me? I feel like there's a lot I should be telling you and I just don't know where to start."

"I've wondered the same thing. Everything's… changed. You, me, Hell, Earth. I'm just adjusting now."

"It's a lot to take in," he agreed.

"I'm just so angry at what they did to me, to us, Lucifer. So angry that I'm shuddering with rage. I never thought I could be this way." I turned my head away from him.

"I understand what you're going through." He took my hand in his. "When the apocalypse ends, we will rule the Earth and do with the humans as we please. We'll show all of Heaven the consequence of what they put use through."

"I still can't believe that God would put us through pain like that. You in a cage in Hell and me, in an underwater prison. All that time we've been forced to be apart… it just _hurts_ , you know?" Sighing, my head found rest on his shoulder.

He put his arm around me. "All that matters is that we are united once again. You should take it easy. I don't know what they did to you but you seem weak. Have some rest."

"I'm fine, Lucifer."

"Well that's exactly what you said when I defeated you the first time we sparred. And you weren't fine. I went a bit too hard on you."

I scoffed. "Oh please, you did not 'defeat me'. I… let you beat me because it would have felt bad to defeat my teacher in the first try. I was going easy on you _._ "

Lucifer laughed. "Is that an invitation for a rematch?"

I shrugged. "I'm game if you are."

"Just promise me that you'll rest first until you're back at full strength."

Reluctantly, I conceded. After some time, I got up. "If you don't mind, I'd like to do some exploring of my own. See what's changed and all. Is that okay?"

If he was saddened by my request, he made no sign of it. "Sure, it's alright. You go ahead. I have matters to settle here anyway. And be careful. Earth is a very different place now." I nodded. Lucifer took my hand and kissed it. I gave him my warmest smile and left.

He wasn't kidding when he said Earth would be very different. When I stepped out of Hell, the sight that greeted me left me dazed and confused. These buildings everywhere, and roads and electronic appliances – where was nature? The ethereal connection that I normally felt with Earth was weak, and I needed to reconnect. Urgently. I spread my wings and took off into the atmosphere, staring back down at the Earth. Although there were still dense rainforests and untouched regions of land and ocean, large swathes of the Earth had become barren. This made my heart ache. What happened to this planet?

Like an uncomfortable itch, I sensed a voice clamouring to be heard. It was Zara. I had only inhabited her body for a few hours and she seemed to be uneasy. I could suppress her awareness so that she couldn't see or feel anything, but I realised that her input would be necessary if I needed to understand the ways of the human world. I would have to protect her mind and soul. For a moment, I retreated into her mind.

"I need you to relax, Zara," I projected into her mind.

Her mind was tense, and I had to figure out why. "We-We're flying. We're up in the air. Is this a dream?" I heard her think.

"No, child. This is all real. I need you to fully accept the reality of this situation."

"Okay, but this is just… awesome. I don't know if I can handle all of this. I have been searching for answers all my life and it feels like I finally found them, but it is all so overwhelming."

"You were made for this, Zara. Every decision in your life has led to this – to you becoming one with me. We were meant to be together. I need you to trust me, and you have to let me pervade every part of you for this to work. Do you understand?"

I could feel Zara's spirit becoming calmer. She lowered her barriers and I had full access to her mind and soul. She would be able to see everything that I do, but she couldn't control what I did with her body. She was just where I needed her to be. I looked through her memories, finding as much information as I could about the world. Art, history, science – it was all there. It was pretty impressive how far humans had come, but then, I saw her misgivings about humanity. Fraud, deception, manipulation – how she had loathed people in power for this and sought to be independent. As above, so below, I guess. It was clear that humanity had made good use of the gift Lucifer and I had given them, but there were still weeds to be plucked out.

I walked through the streets of Tokyo and New York City. Two distant cities, but both incredibly similar in their pace of life. The unsettling itch returned stronger than before and so I allowed Zara to rant, synchronising my frustration with her relentless critique of modern life. Large-screen TVs displayed all sorts of trivial information while people buzzed about, hooked onto their mobile devices and chatting about insignificant things. Man was the most distant from his animal nature here, as though he was trying to reach the level of angels and God. Interesting.

And then I went to Los Angeles. _City of angels, huh?_ In an ironic twist, there were barely any angels there. Only degeneracy. Walking down the streets, I passed several women with bodily implants and several men who wanted me to follow them to places or said strange things – to impress me, according to Zara. One particular human man stood out. Not in his appearance though – they all seemed to share the fashion taste of what Zara termed 'douche bags'. He paced alongside me and asked, "What was it like when you fell from Heaven, baby?"

I stopped immediately and pushed him against the wall. "How do you know who I am?" I demanded to know.

"Let me go, you crazy bitch!" he yelled.

 _He doesn't know you!_ I heard Zara say. I let the man go and he scrambled away. _He was just implying that we looked like an angel._

"Wait, humans know what angels look like?" I asked her, confused.

 _No, it's a compliment._

"Oh." I dusted off my shirt and continued walking. "For the record, you do resemble me in many ways, physically. It's one of the reasons why you're my vessel."

 _Uhh… thank you?_

As we carried on, a small crowd seemed to be gathered around a loud man with black, coiffured hair. He was wearing a suit and carried a cross and a bible. "The Devil is here! Lucifer is here! He has turned you all into sinners!" he yelled. "Save yourselves! Repent and turn to God! Jesus will save us all!" I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sorry, but haven't you heard? Jesus is dead. You have imagery of his corpse everywhere!" I replied. The man gasped as he turned to me. I simply gave him a smile and walked off into a nearby store. I didn't want to waste my time on deluded humans claiming to know what was best for everyone else. There were many interesting trinkets in the store, along with clothes and accessories. It was sad what passed off as modern artefacts. The objects that we used in Heaven were always so artfully created and each item was significant in its design. Down here on Earth, art was lost from day-to-day life. No wonder modern Man is as lost as Zara thought him to be. What should be reminders of Man's gift of intelligence became symbols for vanity and group cohesion. Even their popular music was as dull as bricks and uninspiring. It was so… shallow. It is truly ironic that Man is as far from the divine as he is from nature, when he tries to become one and rejects the other. Some part of me wanted to fix that. Not that I cared at all for the happiness and wellbeing of Man but… I found it horribly offensive that humanity had failed to fully realise the potential of the Tree of Knowledge when Lucifer and I were persecuted badly for it.

I exited the store and turned into an alley. There I found the same man – the preacher. He had just finished a sandwich and was gulping down some water when he spotted me. He straightened up and resumed his inane tirade. "There is redemption for all of us. God is all-forgiving! Read His word and you will know the truth!" He held out the black leather-bound bible. I extended my hand to grab it, but as my palm rested on it, a faint red glow erupted around my palm and burned it. I pulled back my hand quickly and saw the preacher's expression of horror. His eyes shifted wildly between me and his trembling hand. "Y-You! Devil spawn! Get away from me!" the preacher shrieked as he ran.

I flew in front of him, blocking his path. "Devil spawn? That's just insulting. He's my lover, not my father. Get your facts right," I explained. The man screamed.

"Help!" he cried. This was getting annoying. I placed my palm on his forehead and burned his insides. This was mercy compared to the deception he called a life. He dropped to the floor, lifeless. I felt Zara's alarm at my action, but I shut her out. I didn't want to deal with her emotions right now. I sighed. Was there any human worth interacting with? An idea popped into my head.

* * *

Lucifer had told me about his plans – how he was releasing the Four Horsemen, and trying to coerce his vessel to accept him. From what I'd heard, his vessel sounded as stubborn as him. It would be an interesting sight. But Sam Winchester was a difficult man to find.

Some weeks later, Lucifer released Famine. It certainly sounded like the type of thing that the Winchesters would be involved in, from what I'd learnt from Zara. Lucifer didn't mind me wandering around with his groupies, but he was surprised that I had taken an interest in such trivial things. Call it the effects of prison life or whatever, but my priorities were slightly different from his. I just wanted to make sense of things.

And so I explored the streets of the town Famine inhabited. There were these wonderful decorations in the shape of what they called hearts which actually did not resemble hearts at all. Apparently it was 'Valentines' Day' – a day where lovers celebrate their union and, according to Zara, people with no lovers pretended to have lovers only to move on with their lonely lives the day after. Several cupids were rushing around – must be a busy day for them. They mostly seemed to ignore me so I wasn't bothered by them. That was when I spotted the Winchesters. They were in a restaurant. Just as they left and turned into an alley, I appeared before them.

Their shocked expressions conveyed their recognition of my vessel. "Zara?" The older Winchester asked.

"Not Zara," the angel stepped forward. I recognised him. He was a distant memory, but it was a fond one.

"Ah, Castiel. I remember you. Look at you, how you've fallen!" I said to him. "Happens to the best of us."

He brandished his angel blade. Gritting his teeth, Castiel snarled, "What do you want, Sophia?" The Winchesters produced weapons of their own, taking aim at me.

I observed him. He was cut off from Heaven so he wasn't as powerful as he should be. But I had to admire his courage in threatening me like this. "I came here to talk. I don't want to hurt any of you."

"Then talk," Dean ordered. I tilted my head at him.

"Very well, then." I turned to Sam. "You, Winchester. Why do you reject Lucifer? There is no other way this story plays out."

"Th-That's it? That's all you want to know?" he asked. When I didn't respond, he went on. "If I let him in, he will fight Michael and whoever wins, this planet loses. People will die."

"So? People die all the time. The planet will be fine. You underestimate the Earth's ability to regenerate and heal itself." I crossed my arms.

"You are helping Lucifer destroy the human race and like him, you see us as nothing more than pawns to be wiped out so I don't expect you to understand," he spat out bitterly.

"That's not true! I think humanity isn't living up to its true potential. And you know what, wiping out a lot of you may be a good start to helping you. What if I promised that your loved ones will be kept safe when the battle between Michael and Lucifer goes down? Is that a good enough offer for you?" I took a few steps closer to him. The brothers raised their guns and undid the safety locks. "In the last century alone, hundreds of millions of your own kind were killed in wars that you people waged against each other. Don't you want it all to stop? This battle is a 'restart' button for humanity. You can rebuild your species and guide your evolution into higher moral beings. And I can help you with that. Think about it, Sam." I smiled, trying to look as amiable as possible.

"Think about this, cunt!" Dean shot me in the jaw. I sent a wave of energy to shove him backwards and incapacitated Sam and Castiel before they could do anything similar. I held a palm to my jaw, healing it.

I looked at Dean's furious expression as he looked up at me from the ground. So much anger in a little human. I held up my hand and curled in my fingers, twisting his insides in the process. He yelled in pain, clutching his abdomen. For a moment, I felt the relief that I felt in Hell – a calm from inflicting pain on a living creature. I wanted to go on forever, and I would have, were it not for the realisation that this was Michael's vessel and I was not to tamper with them. I let go and undid my work, allowing him to scramble to his feet while his companions looked on with terrified gazes. "You overestimate my patience, but there is still a place for all you in the new world if you do as you are told," I began. "Even you, Castiel."

Jaw clenched, he replied, "Screw you."

"Your loss." I took off back to Hell.

I found Lucifer in the throne room, explaining a plan to his demons, who were seated around a table. "-and Death can take care of that. If there are no questions, you are all dismissed." The demons left, leaving us alone. "And how was your day?"

"Eventful." I took a seat.

"So my demons tell me." He sat next to me, smiling.

"Are you stalking me?" I thought I'd made it clear that I wanted to be alone. Lucifer should know how I am with privacy.

"No, I'm just worried. Besides, demons are everywhere and rumours spread like the wild fire I started a few days ago. And then there is the blood splatter on your neck and shirt."

"Oh, this?" I looked down at the grey shirt. The blood droplets gave it an interesting design. "This is nothing."

"Sure."

No point hiding from him the fruits of my adventures. "I saw Sam Winchester."

His head tilted as he gave me a quizzical expression. "How'd it go?" he asked with a little bit of skepticism, like he suspected something was wrong.

"Don't worry, I played nice," I reassured him. "I just wanted to know what the hold-up was."

"Well, you know how humans can be," he explained. "They wouldn't know what's good for them if you shoved it in their faces." _Ah, that condescension._ So typical of him. "Give it time, he'll come around. When he sees that there is no other option."

I nodded, accepting the line of thought. For his sake, I hoped he was right. This fight was supposed to be his fair trial and Sam Winchester his rightful weapon. This is what he was promised and it would be unfair for it to be any other way. That being said, this better not be another way to screw us over. I took a deep breath, casting these thoughts aside and focusing on the moment. "Lucifer, what was it like when you fell from Heaven?"

"W-what?" His perplexed expression made me laugh. "You were there."

"No, No, I know. It's a flirtatious compliment, apparently."

"Oh uh… what have I done to deserve this compliment?" He pushed back a strand of hair from my face.

"You didn't have to do anything. It's Valentines' Day." He raised his eyebrow. "It's a day when humans celebrate love."

"Oh, I see." He moved in closer and we kissed. "Is that an invitation?" he asked in between kisses.

"You are always invited," I replied. Lucifer dug into my neck and so ensued our night of ecstasy. I swore to myself to never let anyone take this away from me again.


	20. The Followers

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 20: The Followers**

 _Ol dooain mirc periazoda de iadnahmad_

The whispers cut through the distance like lightning. It was said again.

 _Ol dooain mirc periazoda de iadnahmad_

I heard it. Someone was trying to summon me. In the dead of the night, under a clear sky, I flew towards the call. It was in the middle of the cornfield that I found them. Within the barriers of tall crops, a table had been set up with chairs around it. Lights were placed around the table so that it was sufficiently lit up. At one end was an angel with some candles and a bowl of ingredients used for the summoning. I appeared before him, only to find that there were more, seated around the table. They had been waiting for me.

"Raziel," I addressed the one doing the summoning. "It's been a long time."

"You came." He stood there, dazed, before regaining his composure and gesturing for me to take an empty seat. "It's been a while since we all congregated together." He poured me a hot cup of tea, and I noticed that everyone else had a cup themselves as well.

I looked around the table, recognizing all of them. _Rahab, Dinah, Pahaliah, Shemsiel_ – the _Nalkam_.The _Nalkam_ was a small group of angels who were once my apprentices while I was in Heaven. I had picked them out myself, and trained them in the scholarly, prophetic and magical pursuits.

"Well it's not all of us," Dinah spoke up. Her vessel was a young woman dressed in ripped jeans and a leather vest. She sported a Mohawk with pink highlights as well as several piercings on her face. She was chewing gum. "But we'll just have to settle."

"I see that old grudges remain," I replied.

"Grudges, she says, as though we were wrong to ever doubt her," this time it was Shemsiel, with a British accent. His vessel's attire and golden skin seemed to suggest that he spent most of his time at a beach. Even in the darkness of the night, the sunglasses seemed to be a staple of his outfit. _Classy._

"Settle down, now. We didn't come here to argue about the past." Raziel stood over the table. His vessel had black hair that was combed back, and maintained a Van Dyke beard. He was the only one wearing the normal attire of angels who had taken up vessels in Heaven – a formal business suit. "We're here because we need to discuss the future."

I smiled at him. He was always one to be steadfast in his duties. "I presume that you have taken my place as keeper of knowledge in Heaven?"

"I believe there is only one such keeper, and that is you, Sophia. I have merely been standing in since you left." His humility was flattering.

Shemsiel scoffed. "She was never going to return, Raziel. She was cast out. For treason. And so was Zaphiel, who was naïve enough to follow her… till death claimed him." His voice was laced with bitterness.

"I'm sorry about Zaphiel, but you know what happened to him and it wasn't I who condemned him to death!" I retorted. "That was achieved by your own loyal brothers and sisters."

"The fact remains that he would still be alive if you hadn't betrayed Heaven." Shemsiel crossed his arms and looked away.

"Oh stop it! This petty arguing is beneath us!" Rahab shouted with a deep voice from his seat positioned next to Raziel. The dim yellow light reflected off his shaven head and his tattoo-covered torso and arms were partially-obscured by his T-shirt. Silence fell across the table.

Raziel cleared his throat. "I think what Rahab is trying to say is that our duties transcend our internal politics and what is important here is our commitment to protecting knowledge, not our feuds with each other." He took a seat. "As we all know, things are tight in Heaven now with the upcoming apocalypse. We know that Lucifer and Michael are going to fight and Lucifer plans to reign on Earth with his demons should he win… but…" Raziel's gaze met mine.

"You don't know what I'm going to do." I finished his sentence. He nodded in agreement. "Well, there isn't any fancy end-of-days prophecy for me and I'm a bit insulted by that… but shouldn't all of you know? Was it not the lot of you who were involved in helping seal Lucifer and me away, and proclaiming the prophecy of the apocalypse?" I took a sip from my cup.

"Well, actually…" Pahaliah, who had been quiet so far, began with a meek voice. "Lucifer's prophecy appeared to us clear as crystals. The signs, the seals, the sins – we could see all of it. But for you…" she looked around, meeting the gazes of the other angels. "The future was unclear. We saw forms we could not identify and the images kept changing, but ultimately what we saw… we kept it secret from the rest of Heaven. God had ordered us to do so. We saw danger, sacrifice and darkness of a nature so unknown that it was forbidden for us to look any further." Her voice had grown solemn. I was listening intently. "All that was revealed to us was what was needed to free you, and we still don't know what that last condition means."

The last condition. A sacrifice to Khaos. Of my own essence. Lucifer had just assumed it meant nothing since I was walking free now without paying any heed to it. But I wasn't so sure about that. What were the repercussions of ignoring it? I didn't know. "Neither do I," I set my cup down. "But I am going to take that as a sign to do whatever I want. And coming to think about it, I may have a job for all of you."

Shemsiel turned back to me, brows crimping above his shades. "What, are you trying to get the band back together? Get us all to bow down to Mother Wisdom? It's not happening. After what you did. We all work for Michael and Raphael now anyway."

"And how is that going for you?" I frowned. "Stifling, I presume. Do you not realize, in your pride and skepticism, that the only reason why we are all sitting as equals around this table is because it is the way I have shown you? And do I even need to begin on what you are wearing? I'm sure the other archangels are totally fine with all of you being so carefree and aloof. Do not forget, that you were all trained to be skeptical, trained to be critical, because this is a valuable asset that only few in Heaven are allowed to have. The only reason they let you be the way I made you to be is because knowledge and wisdom cannot be forced by order and discipline! So do not bite the hand that feeds, and do not doubt my commitment to my purpose." The angels looked down at the table. "You may not agree with what I did, and that is fine by me. But now there is a real job for us to complete and I seek your cooperation in completing it."

I stood up and, with a wave of my hand, I made a map appear on the table. It wasn't a two-dimensional map like the ones humans used. It was holographic. I had drawn it long ago and it was kept safe in Hell, with all my other belongings. It was a map of the universe, centred on Earth for reference, and showed where all the fragments of light I discovered were, roughly. I had collected some of them before, but plenty remained scattered. The universe was a big place, after all. The locations I had mapped were all based on an algorithm that I formulated once I figured out that there was a pattern.

"What is that?" Dinah asked, in between chews.

"When Eve bit the Forbidden Fruit, it must have set off a chain of events. One of those is the appearance of these 'fragments of light', as I term them, marked by the red dots. These are free-floating repositories of obscure and, sometimes, forbidden information that anyone who stumbles upon them could access, given they put in the necessary amount of mental effort to do so. A significant proportion of them are close to the epicentre of the trigger event, meaning that they are on Earth. But they are also found all across the universe. I _was_ on a mission to collect all of them until I was so _rudely interrupted_ by your bosses and kept locked up in that horrible prison. I need your help in collecting all of them before they fall into the wrong hands."

"Hmm…" Raziel was in deep thought. "This explains the fluctuations we have been detecting for the last several thousands of years, as well as the emergence of forbidden human endeavours, like the writing of Book of the Damned. I believe we did go on an expedition to Andromeda and stumbled upon these, as you describe, fragments of light. But we couldn't see them."

"I think I'm the only one who can see them. We may need to fix that first, before we split the load."

Shemsiel nodded. He coughed awkwardly to get our attention. "I think I can try to conjure up something that could help us visualise fluctuations in information fields. But we may need some… typically unavailable substances that could attract unwanted attention."

Rahab chuckled. "I can hit you up, brother. I know where humans get their forbidden substances." I smiled, proud of what my young bright-eyed apprentices had become. They were their own well-oiled machine.

Raziel clapped his hands together. "Well, that settles that then."

Pahaliah leaned forward, her brown locks of hair falling gently on her cheeks. Concern gripped her expression. "But wait, we still haven't figured out what the prophecy might entail."

"Don't worry about it," I told her, as I began to worry. "If God didn't want you to reveal it to even the archangels, it may mean that it doesn't affect anyone but me. I'll figure it out." She nodded and relaxed her shoulders slightly, although I suspected that it didn't do much to console her.

"Well there is one more thing…" Raziel began. "I'm not sure how to preface this but…"

"We need to know where you kept the Word-of-God tablets," Dinah interjected.

Raziel raised a finger as though to stop her, but he didn't. "You were always so forward, Dinah."

"You know me." She pulled out a phone and began scrolling through it.

I sighed. I should have known it would come to this. But it didn't matter anyway. "I can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?" Raziel's head tilted to his right as his eyebrows creased into a frown.

"Both," I maintained eye contact with him. I realized now that I was the only one who knew where these tablets were hidden, and only I could use them if I wanted. It was power that I didn't know what to do with. But I wasn't going to give it up if it gave me an advantage against Heaven. "It is my duty to protect God's word, and the information on those tablets may be too dangerous for anyone to have in possession."

"Then it must be dangerous for you to have too, is it not?" Raziel challenged. His expression then eased up, like he didn't mean to be so forthcoming. There seemed to be apprehension in his posture. He was hiding something.

"What's it to you? What are you not telling me?" I pressed.

After some hesitation, Raziel came out with the truth. "It's Raphael. He suspects that we may be turning against Heaven now that you're free. He wants us to find and bring him the tablets as a test of loyalty."

 _Hm._ "Well, _are_ you turning against them?" I had to ask.

He looked at the other angels around the table. Dinah was still on her phone, distracted. Shemsiel extended his legs and, with his arms crossed, took a sudden interest in his looked down at the table and Pahaliah looked to Raziel with anticipation. Evidently, there was a group dynamic here that I was missing. Finally, Raziel spoke. "We were all talking about it… and all of us – most of us, I mean – agreed that we would be willing to accept your _guidance_ once again… if we were convinced by your loyalty to the duty."

"Is that so?" I grinned. "You would risk persecution by all of angelkind to have me be your mentor once again?"

"Not exactly… but hear me out. What you said about working under Michael and Raphael… you are completely right. They never gave us as much freedom to do our jobs as you did. They forced us to share our findings with the intelligence branch, the one with Naomi in charge. She then perverted our work to manipulate and brainwash our own brothers and sisters! And soon enough, they were afraid that we would betray God too. And we would never do that. We just dislike that our work is used for their power-driven agenda. We realize that you are not the safest choice but… you are the only one who can guide us in the right way. We are willing to put our past baggage aside, if you are willing."

I nodded. "Fair enough."

"Anyway," he continued, "If you showed us where the tablets are, we could bid Raphael to allow you back into Heaven and you could supervise our work from there."

 _Ah, that._ "I'm afraid that isn't going to happen, Raziel. Raphael does not like me very much, to say the least, nor I him. If there was a confrontation between him and myself, you can count on me meting out my vengeance on him. There is no way, not even if he was agreeable, that I would negotiate and pretend to be fine working with him again. I am not that desperate to get back into Heaven anyways."

Shemsiel threw up his arms in exasperation. "I knew this would be a waste of time."

I glared at him and shot back. "I don't know what you expected me to be like, but my prison sentence has only shown me how harsh those archangels you call bosses can be. So much for God being the most merciful. Lucifer and I have learnt to stand on our own, and if God's absence in Heaven should teach you anything, it's just that. You don't need to be ordered around like cattle anymore. Maybe that's what God wants. Have you thought about that? If you want my guidance, you can have it. I don't need to be your leader in Heaven to do that. If that is all, are we done here?"

Raziel nodded but refused to meet my gaze. I sensed disappointment in the team. It may have been a harsh lesson, but a lesson nonetheless and I was glad I got to tell them this. Leaving them to ponder, I took off.

* * *

A warm gust of air greeted me as I returned to Hell. I went into the armoury, that same room which had the balcony on which Lucifer and I spoke last before I journeyed to collect the fragments of light. It was now better furnished, and weapons of all sorts hung from the walls. Lucifer stood at the balcony and he was not alone. Next to him was the recognizable form of none other than Death, the horseman. Death had now taken up a vessel of his own, who was in turn wearing a black suit and carried a cane. _Fancy._ They were both in the middle of a negotiation, it seemed.

"-the only reason I am doing this is because you have bound me after releasing me from that awful confinement that your Father put me through. After this, there will be no association between us. Is that clear?" I heard Death say. Lucifer may have freed Death, but Death's power was so immense that it would be unwise to get on his bad side anyway, so Lucifer was playing it safe with the guy.

"Yes, of course. As you wish, sir," Lucifer clasped his hands together respectfully.

As Death turned to leave, he spotted me. "Ah, Sophia. Nice to see you again, child."

"Likewise."

He approached me and Lucifer followed. "How has prison life treated you?"

"Oh well, you know, horribly. Having the life force sucked out of you for thousands of years isn't so fun." Lucifer frowned when I said this.

"I'm sure. Well, I'll be off then."

"Wait," I stopped him. "There were three conditions for me to walk free, but only two have been fulfilled. I have no idea what the last one means. Is there anything you could tell me about that?"

Death released a deep breath. "You cannot seek to fulfil the condition. The condition seeks you."

I gave him a quizzical expression. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that one day you may be forced to make a tough decision that your freedom may well depend upon."

Lucifer walked to my side and faced Death. "How can that be? She's already free. No one can just trap her back in there, can they?"

Death simply said, "There are beings that even God and Amara cannot faze, and Sophia here seems to be of special interest to them. You have to comply with them, or you may not like the consequences." _I don't like this._

"Khaos." I said out loud. "Khaos is the being who can imprison me again? Who is this Khaos?"

"I believe you've already met Him." Death took off before I could ask any more questions. I sighed.

I walked over to the balcony, poising my elbows on the rails. Lucifer mirrored my action and waited. When I remained silent, he turned to me and asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"'Having the life force sucked out of you'? You didn't tell me that." His eyes were soft and bore concern. I wished I could break down and tell him everything. But I didn't want to appear any weaker than he already thought I was. It was my burden to deal with anyway. I wouldn't have him worry about me when he should be focussing on the apocalypse.

"Yeah well, the details get lost sometimes."

"That isn't a small detail. It sounds like you had it a lot worse than me. You should have told me."

"Yeah, I didn't get a simple prison sentence. Not everyone is important enough to get a prophecy either," I teased.

"Hey, come on, you're important to me!"

"I know, I'm just kidding. Chill."

"Chill? Huh." Lucifer smiled, shaking his head.

We both stared down at the courtyard. There were demons training to fight. They were sparring with each other and some of them simply stood by and observed.

"By the way, my former apprentices contacted me earlier."

"The _Nalkam_? What did they want?"

"It was just a get-together of sorts. They weren't like out to kill me or anything. They wanted me to become their mentor again."

Lucifer beamed. "Well this is great, then! It's like Heaven just served us a weapon of their own destruction on a platter."

"No, Lucifer. I can't let you use them in our war against Heaven."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"They are not interested in this war. They just want to do what they were meant to do – what I trained them to do. And I think the universe could use angels like them. Besides, their loyalty lies with God. Not us, not your brothers."

He looked sullen. "I feel like we are missing a really important opportunity here."

"Lucifer, please, have some perspective. Not everything is about your fight with Michael. And-" I bit back a comment about the apocalypse being a rigged event. I wasn't looking for an argument.

"And what?" he probed, his eyes now bearing into me.

I shook my head and looked away. "It's nothing."

"Sophie," he said in a stern voice, like one a parent would use against a child. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

He placed a hand over mine. "Hiding what's on your mind. You know you don't have to worry about what I think, right?"

"It's not that, Luci. I just… want things to become normal for me. After everything that we've been through, I don't know where to find myself." I sighed. This was getting too personal and I worried he wouldn't understand. I had left everything that I ever cherished in Heaven and fell from grace in pursuit of what I thought was the truth and ever since then, it had been difficult to find who I was supposed to be. On one hand, there was the duty that I had committed myself to – it required no further decision on my part and saw no dividing lines. On the other hand, there was the rebellion that landed me in Hell as the queen of this kingdom that Lucifer built to oppose Heaven – he wanted me to be a part of this, I could tell, but was it _for_ me?

"Hey, hey," he wrapped his arms around me. "You take all the time you need, do whatever you want. I'll be here, Hell will be here. Your place alongside me awaits you patiently." Always about Hell, isn't it?

I don't know why, because I'm not normally averse to his presence, but his comment just put me off. I didn't feel like he was really getting me. I pushed him away from me gently, resting my hands on his chest. "Please just… leave them be. Promise me."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Fine, I promise."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I helped Lucifer with some of his work. I know he said to do whatever I wanted, but I just didn't feel like sitting out while he was busy. He'd set me free and there was really nothing else I could do. Who knows, maybe ruling Hell and making the apocalypse happen would grow on me. I dispensed demons, ordered them around, received intel, killed humans. It seemed to please Lucifer but for me, I was engaging a side of me I tried so hard to hide – The Darkness. I used to try to suppress the impulses in me that arose from my original essence, the one created by Mother, but the years in the vault just wore me down like sandpaper on wood. Every day I felt the instinct to destroy rise to awareness and I guess helping Lucifer fed that side of me. I tried justifying my actions with whatever reasons, but at the core of it all was a part of me that I wasn't particularly proud of. Once, I went to an evangelical church and cut the tongues of all the proselytizers. I didn't need to, but I just felt like I needed to rid the Earth of people who lied to both themselves and others. The demons that I brought along with seemed to enjoy the task, and Lucifer certainly didn't mind. "Couldn't be more theatrical myself," he remarked.

I had to retreat into meditation soon after, though – I could feel Zara getting overwhelmed. I knew it would have just been easy to ignore her, but I wanted to take care of her. I had a lot of enemies, and a lot of violence was to be expected in my life. She needed to get used to it. I allowed her to speak to me in moments like this.

 _So much blood. Everywhere._

"Well the human body does typically have 6 litres of blood. What you saw was not even close to the full amount."

 _What you did was excessively cruel for people who weren't hurting anyone else._

"Of course they were hurting people. They were spreading lies! You think what I did was cruel? What I did pales in comparison to what God put me through until you freed me."

 _I realize that, but don't you think education is the better solution to such problems?_

"Of course, but I can sense who is capable of learning and who isn't. These people clearly weren't. You have to trust me."

 _I'm sure._

Or so she said. Perhaps it took time for humans to get used to such images, but I was sure she would come around eventually. She had so much potential – I could feel it – and there was still so much moreI could show her. I was going to continue the session but I was interrupted by a call. It was Shemsiel – he had something.

I flew over to his 'office' – it was a two-floor white building with large windows by the beach that was filled with a lot of people in skimpy clothing. Loud tasteless music blared from the speakers. There was a swimming pool within the compound and several alcoholic beverages were served to all of the humans, who then proceeded to lose their sobriety and engage in several vices. Amongst them, my modest grey top and black pants stood out. Just as eyes awkwardly shifted in my direction, I was greeted by Shemsiel. "There you are."

He was wearing the same style of clothing he wore to the meeting earlier – a tank top with tacky floral design, shorts and the same pair of sunglasses. At least now it was midday. "I see you have visitors," I gestured towards the crowd.

"Don't worry about them. I'll tell you more about it inside." He turned and beckoned me to follow, leading me into the lavish building with more people. There were several poles in the main area and women were dancing around them. Soon, we entered an empty area in the basement which was surprising considering the sheer number of people present. But it was no ordinary area. The wall emanated with magic and it seemed that he had placed an illusion over the wall so that humans would not find it strange. We both walked through the illusion, and entered a dimly-lit room with a table in the centre, a whiteboard on the far wall and shelves and drawers lined up at the sides. There were more rooms in this area as well.

"Sorry about the crowd." Shemsiel began clearing up the table by picking up papers and stationery and placing them aside. "I run a club and it's Waste-Your-Socks-Off Wednesday, so drinks are cheap and more people come."

"I see. So your office is located right under a place that is frequently visited by many people?"

"Yeah, it's my cover. No angels bother me in this place. They are all too afraid of being surrounded by sin. And I prefer not being interrupted by them." He started rummaging through the pile of papers that he had just picked up. "Where did I put it…" he murmured. "I must have left the list of formulas in another room. I'll be right back. Please, do make yourself comfortable."

He left in search of the piece of paper and I was alone so I took the time to look around the room, picking up the interesting items he had collected. He primarily collected seashells, dedicating an entire wall to displaying various types and their morphologies. Nearby on a waist-level shelf was a bounded copy of something he wrote about seashells being related to information fields in the ocean. I found it amusing that beneath the exterior of a palace of hedonism lay a true repository of worthwhile knowledge. Just as I was flipping the pages of the book, a folded piece of paper fell out. I picked it up to put it back, but then I noticed something that shouldn't be there.

I saw the outline of something all too familiar and I unfolded the paper. It was an invisibility sigil and specifically the one I used to protect the tablets written by Metatron. Below it were some notes about how the sigil must have been designed in this specific way to protect its content. As I read on, there were experimentally-deduced conclusions of where the sigil might have been used. I couldn't believe it. Shemsiel had located the angel tablet. Before I could fully come to terms with this, I heard the patter of his flip flops approaching. I quickly placed the paper and the book to where I found them and pretended to admire the wall of seashells instead. "It's an interesting collection you got here."

"Well, I've had a lot of time on my hands now that I don't have to do all that boring paperwork you made us do."

"Hey, you've got to start with the basics to become good at what you do," I shot back. "But it's nice work."

Shemsiel blushed. For someone who was so hostile earlier he seemed to have eased up towards me. It gave me hope in rebuilding my relationship with the team. He extended his hand forward, holding the paper. "Here is a list of possible recipes that could help visualize the fluctuations in real time. I need you to vet them and tell me which one is more or less suited."

I scanned the list. "Hmm… let's see. The fragments seemed to emit really high-energy data waves so we would need something that could be appropriately conjugated to it. Try the second recipe." I handed back the list.

"Alright then." He made a note on the paper before putting it aside. "Would you like me to show you around the place?"

I smiled. "Maybe another time. I've got things to do."

"Apocalypse stuff?"

I nodded.

He sighed. "I'll miss this place when it's destroyed by the final battle."

We both remained in silence. He may not show it, but it was obvious what plagued his mind when he saw me in that cornfield. "I'm sorry about Zaphiel. I _truly_ am – I know how _close_ the two of you were. If it's any consolation, he still talked about you even after the Fall. But he chose his own fate, and we should not belittle his choice."

He fidgeted around with the stationery on the table. I watched as an eraser fall before bouncing off to somewhere underneath the nearby shelf. Shemsiel stared at it for a while and whispered,"I understand."

"Take care, Shemsiel." I flew back to Hell. I had to prevent him from finding the angel tablet. But I couldn't confront him about it – he would just become defensive and carry on in trying to find it, which would eventually lead to us fighting. No, I would have to relocate the tablet before he could dig it up.

* * *

"Lucifer, I need your help." I stood before him in the all-too-familiar position in the throne room. "Could you find me a safe location where we can keep something really important?"

"Sure, what's the treasure?" The icy blue eyes of his vessel bore into me from his seated position on the throne.

 _Should I tell him? Maybe later. There isn't much time._ "I'll explain later. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one. Tell me where to meet you and we'll settle it together."

He was silent. He looked at me like he did when I questioned him after the first demon was born. Like I was a stranger. But he just raised his eyebrows. "Okay."

Unsure of what to make of his demeanour, I went in search of the angel tablet. It was in the same spot where I left it, but only slightly shifted due to seismic activity. The sigils were mostly intact. Having been the one who created the sigils, I found it easy to break them. They could be disrupted either by mechanically changing their form or, as only few angels knew, by finding weaknesses in their construction. As I picked up the angel tablet, I rubbed my palm over it, wiping away the dust. The tablet had remained in the ground so long that it had a thick mineral coating. The writing seemed to be largely intact. Too bad Metatron had his own codex which prevented anyone else from deciphering the meanings in the tablets. Stowing it away in an angel-warded box that I had brought, I rushed to the location Lucifer had told me to meet him.

The night was silent. Moonlight illuminated the wet gravel road leading to an abandoned warehouse. As I appeared before Lucifer, I realized that we weren't alone. He had brought some demons along.

"Why are they here?" I frowned, unsettled by their presence in what I considered to be a top-secret mission.

"Well I trust them, and you're gonna have to trust me." I rolled my eyes. _He can't be serious._ But he was. "Follow me," he walked ahead into the building. Sighing, I followed, the group of demons tagging alongside me.

"Maybe you should trust us too, mother," one demon said.

"Don't call me that," I hissed. "I had no part in creating your kind."

Another demon simply scowled at this. As we followed Lucifer, he led us to a crypt of sorts. Perfect. I placed the box on a platform and drew warding sigils on the walls. Lucifer simply stood by with his arms crossed, waiting for me to finish.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" I looked around, finding the demons' curious gazes. My eyes eventually found Lucifer's and he raised his eyebrows, beckoning me to answer. _I'm going to regret this._

"This box," I gestured towards it, "Contains the angel tablet."

"The Word of God?"

"Yes. One of the _Nalkam_ was close to finding it so I had to change its location before he could find it himself."

Lucifer looked unconvinced. "Why not just kill him?"

I sighed. "We've gone through this before. I don't want to kill him because he has a certain skill-set and the universe could use an angel like him."

"Hm." Lucifer traced the sigils on the box. "Not the way I would've done it, but alright." An uncomfortable tension built between us. It was clear to anyone watching that we had our differences in how we handled things. He preferred to be confrontational and brash, which hasn't worked so well for us, and I was rather methodical and private. I just felt like certain things had to be kept between us and required some planning but he just seemed to be acting on a whim which made me nervous. It could jeopardise the mission. But what choice did I have? He asked me to trust him, so here I was, revealing the location of something so powerful to a bunch of demons, creatures who stood no actual chance against angels.

Before we left, we blocked the entrance to the crypt with an illusion and more warding. I felt uncomfortable having all these demons as eye-witnesses **.** Sure, they were devoted to Lucifer but I couldn't be certain that their loyalty extended to me. They were clearly a liability. But I also couldn't get rid of them easily – Lucifer said he trusted them. Maybe I could make it look like an accident. I had an idea.

The Whore of Babylon had requested for more demons from Hell. And luckily, Lucifer had allowed me to settle some of his affairs. This was great; he wouldn't even notice that certain demons were gone. What made it better was that the Whore had a Winchester problem, and they were adept at taking care of demons from what I'd heard from board-room chatter. I did a little sneaking around on the side and took care of the demons in private, making it look like it was the work of hunters. But there was just one problem – the demon Meg was too high up on the rank for me to send her. I wanted to convince her to follow the demons to Minnesota but she tagged along with Lucifer most of the time like a little demon whore.I would have to find some other way to settle that.

But for now, the plan seemed to work. I watched as the demon informant stood before me, reciting the names of her fallen brethren. One by one, the names of the demons who accompanied us that night to the crypt popped up. _Mission accomplished._


	21. The Unforgiven

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 21: The Unforgiven**

"What's going on, Sophia?" Lucifer had his arms crossed and he was frowning.

"You tell me. What's up?" I flipped the page of a book. I was sitting in the library on an armchair with my legs pulled up under me. "These Gnostics are very esoteric, aren't they?"

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but what did you do to my demons?" He pulled up a chair to sit opposite me.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and since when did you care about your demons so much?" I flipped another page, remaining in my nonchalance.

"You sent them to Minnesota and somehow you took them out. I mean, the Whore of Babylon wasn't supposed to kill the demons! I know you did it." He seemed pissed off, and that pissed me off. Why was this an issue?

"Then why are you asking?"

He sighed. "Why'd you do it? Those demons were part of my inner circle and carried important intel! Is there something I'm missing?"

"I don't know, _are_ you missing something?" I asked, bored.

Another sigh. He rubbed his chin. He leaned forward and grabbed the book from my grasp, gently setting it on the table. Slightly vexed, I simply stared down at my empty hands, until he took them in his own hands. "Honey," he began. "You gotta help me out here, alright? I don't know what's going on with you."

Suddenly all my grievances popped to mind. Things I hadn't even considered to have bothered me before. I wanted to pour it out right there and then. "Where do I even begin? I-"

"Sir?" A demon popped his head around the door.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked, annoyed by the interruption.

"There has been a call, sir. It's Mercury. He says that your vessel is trapped in a hotel with other pagan gods who are plotting against you."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He turned back to me. "I am _so_ sorry. I'll be right back and we can continue this."

"No."

He tilted his head. "No?"

I stood up. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

"I wish I had my blade right about now," I told him while we flew to the hotel.

"They're just pagan gods. We can take 'em down with our bare hands."

 _Elysian Fields Hotel_ , a neon blue sign read _._ The lounge was decorated with white furniture on mahogany floor. Stationed beside the fireplace was a counter that held two computers. It was obviously too fancy for a roadside motel. The scent of magic was thick in the air. Lucifer tapped the bell on the counter. "Checking in."

Mercury, dressed in a servant's attire, turned around to face us. "Lucifer," he smiled wryly. "Thanks for coming." His gaze fell on me. "Sophia." He nodded. I stood with my arms crossed next to Lucifer.

Lucifer placed his palms on the counter. "Oh, you did right calling me."

"It's just... The way the talk is heading in there, it's... it's insane!" He smiled nervously.

"You know, I never understood you pagans, always fighting, always happy to sell out your own kind. No wonder you forfeited this planet to us. You are worse than humans. You're worse than demons. And yet you claim to be Gods." Mercury looked dejected, and then his face contorted into one of shock. Lucifer used a finger to slowly add pressure to Mercury's neck, and in a swift flick of the wrist, broke it, leaving Mercury to fall limp on the ground. "And they call me prideful."

We proceeded to walk towards the ballroom, but we were bombarded by the most powerful of these pagan gods. Odin appeared before us, in the form of a balding man wearing a white fur coat. "I got him." I rushed forward as Odin brandished his _Gungnir_ and raised it to strike. With a single hand I blocked the strike and disarmed him. "You should sacrifice the other eye for Wisdom too," I taunted as I used the spear to pierce his skull through his intact eye, and pushed him to the ground. As he fell, Ganesh charged at us. While I choked Odin with my foot and broke his neck, Lucifer extended his hand and ripped Ganesh apart before he could come any closer. Ganesh let out the shriek of a dying elephant as his blood was sprayed all over the wallpaper of the corridor. As Lucifer spotted the door to the ballroom, Baron Samedi appeared and tried to throw a punch at him, but Lucifer caught it and tore off his wrist, breaking his arm in the process. He collapsed onto the floor, face pale with shock, and tried to squirm away. I watched as Lucifer calmly knelt down and placed his hands on both sides of the pagan god's head. With a jerk he severed his neck, silencing the grunts of flickered as we both stood in the corpse-ridden corridor. A group of henchmen rushed toward us from behind. "Go. I'll hold them off," I stood poised for a fight.

"See you in a bit." Lucifer went off.

One by one the mythological warriors fell. Did they not know that their powers were just cheap versions of ours? More and more blood sprayed everywhere. At some point I had to get my hands dirty and they were absolutely caked in the stuff. I heard footsteps. They shuffled towards me and then abruptly stopped.

"Oh no, it's her!" I heard a voice say. It was Kali. She was with the Winchesters. I could see the fear in their eyes as they scanned the crimson surroundings and rested on me.

"And where do you think you're going?" I slowly walked towards them, carefully stepping over the bodies on the floor. The lights flickered with my every step.

Kali's shoulders tightened as she held onto Sam. I thought gleefully of creative ways I could end her. Dean stretched an arm slowly, facing his palm towards me. "Stop. Don't do this," he pleaded.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Y-you're not like Lucifer, right? You don't want to kill everything you touch? Just let this one go, okay?"

"Do you see this hallway? You don't know what I want." I noticed that he was holding something in his hand. Something… curious. "What's that?"

Dean's eyes flicked between the item and me, and then he held it closer to his chest. "Uhh… can't a man keep his films to himself?" He smiled wryly.

I reached out and summoned it forward to my grasp. Dean flinched. " _Casa Erotica_ number 13?" I read out loud. Getting a whiff of it, I detected magic. _Archangel magic._ As the thoughts clicked in my head, I recognized the magical signature. My eyes widened with both excitement and a sense of foreboding at the prospect. "Gabriel!" I exclaimed. I slammed the DVD into Dean's chest, and dashed past him into the ballroom.

As I neared the open doors, I saw Lucifer, facing my direction, talking to Gabriel. But it was an illusion. The real Gabriel approached Lucifer from behind, ready to to strike. As soon as he spotted me, he was distracted for a single second. And that second was all that mattered. Gabriel's innocent stare caught mine just as Lucifer spun swiftly, grabbing his brother's blade and stabbing it through his abdomen. "No!" I yelled, feeling my screams dissolve into nothingness. In that moment I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. I leaned against the door, realising I was too late. I would never forget the shock on his once-sanguine face as his hands encircled the handle of the blade. Despite the pain, he continued staring at Lucifer, betrayal clear in his childlike eyes. Gabriel grabbed both his brother's hands and growled in agony as Lucifer drove the sword deeper into 's head turned for a moment to see the illusory version of Gabriel disappear. He subsequently took note of my presence, looked back at his brother, and rested a palm on his face.

"Here. Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother." Lucifer sounded cold. My grip on the door weakened and my heart sank as Gabriel let out soft groans of pain. With no semblance of mercy, Lucifer jerked the blade upwards, releasing the dying light of Gabriel's essence. Tears blurred my vision as Gabe screamed one last time and fell lifeless to the floor.

I rushed to his side, causing Lucifer to step back. As his wings burnt, I held Gabe in my arms and cradled his head close to my chest. Why did this have to happen? As his vessel grew colder in my arms, I felt a part of myself dying as well. It was the part that was influenced by Gabriel's jovial and stealthy nature, the part that grew when we played together as young little archangels, the part that took respite in his friendship. All appearance of his mischievous and light-hearted self was now stolen from him in death, in this prophesied war of archangels. My mind kept replaying the last moment I shared with Gabriel, when he told me he was leaving Heaven. He wanted nothing more than the fighting to stop, a reasonable wish, and it burdened me to think that what we had done drove him away from his own home and family.

He had told me that he wouldn't hold it against me that I tried to help Lucifer the best way I could, but that the conflict between Lucifer and his brothers was beneath me. I didn't pay heed to what he had said back then, but now, gazing upon his dead body, I realise what it truly meant. I didn't have to play along with this. Gabriel surely didn't – it cost him his life. How much more could I bear to lose because of this eternal grudge between Heaven and Hell? It just hurt me so much. I felt myself seething with rage. This was so unnecessary. I looked up accusatorily at Lucifer, tears streaming down my cheek. I saw his guilt-ridden expression and heavy breaths of sorrow for the loss of his brother. After what he had done, that did nothing more than to anger me.

"I had no choice, Sophia." He spoke gently.

I shook my head. "There is always a choice!" I shouted. My voice became choked with grief. "He wanted no part of this." Looking down at his face, memories of better days battered my conscience and filled me with rage. Gabriel never deserved this.

"Sophia-"

"I don't want to hear it." I stood up. Lucifer approached me and tried to rest his hands on my arms. I pushed him away. "Don't talk to me," I told him through gritted teeth, avoiding his gaze. He took a step back and we stood in silence for a moment. While I remained in that dishevelled ballroom, inhaling the odour of charred angel wings, he left me alone with my thoughts.

* * *

The moon was waning that night, and I got to admire it amidst the cool sea breeze.

"Something on your mind?" Shemsiel approached with a bottle of liquor and two glasses. We both sat on the beach. I took off my shoes and immersed my feet in the sand. His frosted tips shone white in the moonlight as he poured a small amount of whiskey into both glasses.

"Pour me more," I requested. "How much do you suppose could get an archangel drunk?"

He obliged and filled a little over half the cup with the liquid. "That bad?" He handed me the cold glass. "I don't think I have enough!"

I took a sip, savouring the sinful taste of alcohol. Normally, I wouldn't ingest such a harmful substance – harmful to humans, that is. I wanted to keep my vessel healthy and free of such toxins. But that night called for the occasion. "How did you do it?" I kept my gaze fixed on the reflection of the moon in the rippling seawater. "How did you deal with losing Zaphiel?"

Shemsiel swallowed a sip. "I couldn't. It still hurts. But it's the memories of our time together that keeps me going, you know?"

"I do." I took another sip.

His fingers twitching, he took off his sunglasses and hooked them on the collar of his shirt. "Slaughtering our own kind," he began. "If it wasn't right for the sinners to do it, then it isn't right for us either."

Unable to control myself, I teared up at his sorrowful remark. It sounded so innocent, as though any part of my existence had ever been so simple. But it seemed absurd to be too much to ask. As I wiped the single tear off my cheek, I saw that he too had damp eyes. Shemsiel may have a jovial and aloof exterior, but underneath all that was someone deeply riddled with sadness and loss, something he once held me responsible for and I can't say I didn't understand. We both simply finished our drinks in silence. Soon enough, we finished the whole bottle. Thanking him for the drink and the talk, I went back to Hell.

I arrived in the armoury to find Lucifer awaiting me at the balcony. He looked at me with concern. I felt Zara's thoughts calling to me. _You can't avoid talking to him forever._

"Watch me," I replied. With a green flash of the eyes, I retreated into her unconscious mind, leaving Zara to face Lucifer.

* * *

 **(Zara's POV)**

Feeling returned to her limbs. She was here again. She was always here, but it had felt more like an unusually vivid dream than reality. Now that the archangel had given her possession of her own body back, she was free to move, free to act, all without her human limitations like hunger, thirst or fatigue. She glanced down at her hands and her body, and then looked back up to see a downcast Lucifer looking back at her.

"Is she serious?" He asked nervously.

"She _really_ doesn't want to talk to you right now." Zara felt sorry for him. "But I'm sure she'll eventually come around." It didn't seem to help.

Recognising the awkwardness of the moment, Zara walked towards a row of short swords and picked one up, feeling its weight and texture.

"Do you know how to use it?" Lucifer tried to exude his typical demeanour, masking his grief. "I could teach you, if you want."

Zara looked at him with excitement. "I'd like that, but do we really have a time for a crash course?"

"Time passes much more slowly in Hell." A faint smile reached Lucifer's lips. "Plus, you got the theory covered."

"Huh?" Lucifer placed two fingers on her forehead, imbuing her with all the knowledge he wished to teach her on different types of combat.

"Time to practice, princess."

It was great that Zara couldn't tire easily; the hours of sparring with Lucifer had been spectacularly exhilarating and educational. It didn't matter that she lost several times to him – he was… well, him, after all. She simply enjoyed gaining more control over her movements and learning to fend for herself. Soon enough, Lucifer ordered his demons to be her sparring partners. Surprisingly, she defeated her first demon within the first few tries. Practising for hours at a time for the next several Hell weeks (one week on Earth was three months in Hell), she soon became somewhat of a skilled fighter; she was a quick learner. It also helped that she had a few years of experience with fencing. Sophia had said nothing about this. She was uncannily quiet, although Zara could still sense her presence within her. It made her uncomfortable to think about it, but she didn't want to bring it up. Sophia would know, anyway.

In the third Hell month, a crowd had formed around her as she sparred with a demon who had a slightly larger build than she was used to. The eternally red sky cast a dull glow on the courtyard, while the ground was otherwise illuminated by the yellow lights put up around the perimeter. The clash of metal rang as the demons cheered. Some were placing their bets on her, and others on her opponent, a popular demon named Titus. Something Zara had learned was that demons loved placing bets – especially the lower-ranking ones in charge of menial tasks like housekeeping – and they paid up their bets in wooden coins engraved with runes. They in turn exchanged these runes for various services, like getting their preferred form of torture, the opportunity to torture newly received souls themselves, or even goods like drinks and trinkets. It fascinated Zara to discover that Hell was a whole world of its own, with its own marketplace of goods and even different climates.

Titus was a formidable opponent. Although he was large, he was moderately fast for someone his size. This posed a challenge for her. So far, Zara managed to dodge his strikes and keep herself intact. She did as Lucifer taught her – she took a deep breath and channelled her attention towards her sword and her opponent, feeling the sword as an extension of her own hand and looking for weak spots in him. Titus raised a broadsword to strike and Zara dodged, slicing him in the abdomen. He quickly spun about his hips to strike sideways at her and this would have nearly taken her head off, had she not ducked in time. Springing up with her ankles, she slammed her shoulder into his chest with all the energy she could summon, luckily knocking him off balance, even if only slightly. As fast as was possible for her, she switched her short sword from her right to left hand and slashed at his neck and chest as many times as she could, opening bloody gashes. While she still had the chance, she kicked him in the shin and punched him with her free hand, knocking him down onto the floor. Triumphantly, she placed a foot on his chest and aimed the sword at his face, the crowd noisy with both cheers and boos. Titus, face and torso smeared with blood, simply grinned and raised his arms in defeat. She took a step back and reached out a hand to help him up.

They both shook hands as a sign of good faith. "Well, well, you're learning fast," a female voice sounded through the crowd. The crowd parted, revealing Meg, with her smug expression, walking towards them. "But can daddy's little princess handle a demon who isn't going easy on her for the fear of Lucifer's punishment?" Meg took off her leather jacket, tossing it into the crowd. "What do you say, a little one-on-one, hand-to-hand? I promise I won't kill you, but I might come close."

She eyed Zara with a twisted desire that Zara didn't quite know what to make of, a kind of look that made her doubt herself. Accepting the challenge, she stood ready. The demons grew silent. Zara could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest. But that wasn't all she felt – Sophia seemed to find this to be an opportunity to end one more demon that knew the location of the angel tablet. "I don't know if I can defeat her," she told Sophia.

 _I'll guide you. Once you get close enough, I will rise up and kill her._

"If you kill her, Lucifer will know."

 _It'll be too late by then. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, is it not?_

"I don't like the sound of this."

 _He won't hurt you anyway. Not while I'm here._

Meg and Zara circled each other slowly. Soon enough, Meg advanced to deliver the first blow. Zara dodged and grabbed her wrist and elbow, deflecting the blow to her side. Hand-to-hand combat was much more manageable, Zara thought. By simply directing the energy of the opponent away from oneself, one could be afforded much-needed distance and space to attack. Still maintaining her grip on Meg's arm, Zara attempted to twist it into an arm lock but Meg retaliated with a kick into Zara's shin and a punch to the face. Not seeing it coming from such a close distance, Zara was knocked back, feeling her cheek swell from the punch. Again, the two circled each other. This time, Zara attacked first, delivering a punch to the face, expecting it to be blocked by her opponent. When it was, she used her back leg to knee her in the abdomen and used the impact to get a clear shot at her face. This pushed Meg a few steps back, and she let out a hearty laugh. "Looks like she has some fight in her after all."

"Hey Meg!" A demon called out. "Lucifer's calling for both of you. You can continue this later."

"Later, then," Meg stood up straight and got back her jacket from a demon in the crowd, and Zara put on her own jacket. Both of them walked side by side, following the demon who called for them. Zara couldn't ignore the diabolical smile on her face. In a low tone, Meg whispered, "You were good back there."

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Zara responded, "Thanks."

"Must be tough hosting an archangel huh? Especially when the both of you have different relationships with Lucifer and everyone around here."

"I think I can manage it."

"What do you say, you ditch the archangel and I take you out for a drink? We could even see where the night leads us."

 _Uh oh._ Zara could feel herself losing feeling in her limbs. The anger that Sophia had repressed at Lucifer came bubbling to the surface in a fraction of a second. Sophia was reaching – no, grabbing – for control again. Her eyes glowed strongly and remained that way as Sophia pushed Meg up against the wall, choking Meg with her forearm.

"How dare you speak to her that way, you _demon whore_!" Frustration was evident in her voice.

"What are you… gonna… do?" Meg asked through a strangled voice. "Kill…me?"

"It would be like stomping a cockroach," Sophia spat. The demons surrounding them looked on with fear and anticipation.

Meg laughed. "In front of all these… eye-witnesses? Didn't work out so well for you… with father… when you plotted against my colleagues. You're his bitch… just like us."

Sophia's steel gaze bore into Meg with ire. Was it worth it to upset Lucifer over this? Perhaps. She raised her free hand to strike the demon. "Sophia, stop!" Her hand froze mid-air and then dropped to her side. Pressing her forearm more strongly against Meg's throat for a while longer, she finally let the demon go. Meg fell the ground, coughing and heaving. Her hardened gaze met Lucifer's for the first time in days. Red sores had reappeared on his vessel. The hallway full of demons was deadly silent as they stared at each other for a few seconds. And then, Sophia retreated back into Zara's mind. Her irises turned back to brown and Zara reached for the wall as feeling returned all too quickly to her body. Taking deep breaths, she straightened up to face Lucifer and walked with weak legs past him towards the demon who would lead her to the throne room. Lucifer kept his eyes fixed on her, his face marred with anger and concern. It was probably the most nerve-wrecking walk of her life.

Her heart beat so hard she was worried it would pop out of her chest. As soon as she neared the table, Lucifer grabbed her elbow and turned her around to face him. His other hand trapped her between him and the table. She gasped, grabbing onto the table with a free hand. "What the hell was that?" he demanded to know.

"I don't know!" Zara's voice was meek. Her fingers twitched nervously. She was afraid of being caught in the middle of their dispute and that was exactly what happened.

"No, not you. I'm talking to her." He stared deep into her eyes. "I know she can hear me." Feeling her tremble under his touch, he let her go.

The other demons, including Meg, walked in. Meg eyed Zara with hostile suspicion, rubbing her bruised neck. They all stood around the table, while Lucifer laid out his final plan. "We're coming really close to the final battle so I need to make sure that the remaining horsemen do whatever they can without interference. I'm going to assign all of you to personally oversee the operations of Pestilence and Death. Zara and Timothy – head over to Pestilence's Nevada operation now. The rest of you are with Death and you will be moving out shortly after."

* * *

"Pestilence has already sent for a virus to be distributed via a pharmaceutical company and get this – they're distributing it as a vaccine for the recent outbreak of swine flu," Timothy briefed Zara as he drove. "We just need to make sure that the demon in charge, Brady, who's helping execute the operation, is managing it properly."

"Sure." Zara took a sip of water from a bottle in the car. The cool rush of liquid down her throat eased her tension a little and she focused on the road ahead, which was illuminated solely by the headlights of the vehicle. When she signed on for this, she didn't expect the drama. She would have just thought she would be riding shotgun while Sophia took all the control. Either way, she felt herself becoming someone else, like Lucifer and Sophia had stripped down all of her that was conditioned to be a good, normal person in the world and what was left was someone with no restrictions and freedom to explore anything. This was what she had craved her whole life and this was it, complete with relationship problems. Soon enough, they entered a city area with brick buildings flanking the streets. They stopped in front of _Niveus Pharmaceuticals._

A flight of stairs led to the entrance, two glass doors with a header that was illuminated with yellow light. Inside was a reception desk, standing in front of the elevators. It looked like a typical lobby of a business establishment, until the two of them approached the entrance. Their relaxed pace evolved into a rush to enter the scene as they spotted a dead receptionist through the glass door. Their heels clanked on the marble floor as they briskly approached the counter, where they found yet another dead person lying prone on the ground. Both of them had their throats slit, and their shocked expressions were preserved in death. "Shit," Timothy muttered under his breath. He pulled out a gun and handed it to Zara. "Be on the lookout." Zara nodded.

They both took the elevator up to a higher floor. As they exited, the hallway of dead demons sprawled on the floor further alarmed them. Before them, the doors to Brady's office were wide open. They ran forward into the office. No one was there. The building was dead silent. "Brady's not here. We have to report this immediately." Timothy paced around the room, looking for clues. Zara inspected the door. She knelt to look at the handle and lock region. There were splinters protruding from the sides of the door, as though they had been forced open. Looking around at the floor outside the door, she found traces of blood that were fresher than those of the demon corpses lying around. Standing up, she dug a hand into her pocket, suddenly finding a lump in it. As she pulled the object out, she found that it was a silver coin, with strange markings on it.

 _He can't be serious,_ Sophia thought to Zara.

"What now?"

 _It's a tracking coin. Lucifer's stalking us. He must have put it in your pocket just now._ Zara thought back to the meeting. The arm that Lucifer used to trap her at the table was pretty close to her pocket; he could have easily slipped it in then.

Before she could make something of what she found, Timothy exited the office and paced past her, beckoning her to follow him. "We need to contact the local intelligence."

They drove through the busy streets and stopped by a local bar. Getting out of the car, they entered the bar and walked to the back room. Timothy gave a nod to the bartender, who happened to be a demon. There, they walked down a flight of stairs to enter another room, which was more lavishly decorated than the bar itself and was occupied by about six or seven demons. They lounged about and had drinks of their own, while their work-related items lay strewn on the desks and were hung up on the walls. Timothy and Zara entered briskly, causing the demons, who were playing poker, to look up.

"Timothy, buddy!" A female demon stood up to greet them. "What, did the higher-ups give you time off? Well, you're just in time to start a new round!" She then eyed Zara. "Stuck on babysitting duty? Sucks to be you."

"Not now, Lisa. We just got back from Brady's office." Timothy spoke with an urgent tone. "He's gone."

"Whaddaya mean he's gone?" A gruff-sounding voice boomed from behind Lisa. The other demons had risen from the table as well.

"I mean he's missing. Like abducted. And it looks recent, like in the last hour or so. How far could he have been taken?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "First, Crowley. Now, this? Can't seem to catch a break."

"Crowley?" Zara asked. She recognized that name from her time with the Winchesters.

"Yeah, he's been causing a lot of trouble lately."

"My reputation precedes me." A deep voice with a British accent sounded behind them. Timothy and Zara turned around to face the smartly-dressed demon with refreshingly amiable features. Timothy immediately stepped in front of Zara, extending a protective arm around her.

"You came to the wrong party, pal." Lisa stepped forward and threw a punch at him. Crowley simply caught her fist, kicked her in the abdomen and then punched her with more force, sending her flying across the room.

"Just leave Brady and me alone!" He exclaimed. "We want none of what Lucifer is offering! That's right, we're _lovers in league_ _against Satan_!"

The cozy room suddenly became a mess as tables were broken and papers were strewn everywhere. Timothy had led Zara to the back of the room as his colleagues were felled one by one. He then rushed towards Crowley himself. "Brady has bad taste in men," Timothy uttered.

With the calm of a summer breeze, Crowley pulled out a handgun from his black coat and shot Timothy in the head. To Zara's surprise, the bullet stopped Timothy and he fell to the ground, limp, although he clearly wasn't dead. Reciting some Latin words, he ignited all of the demons except Timothy, causing them to scream as they died slowly. The orange glow of the flames cast dancing shadows on Crowley's face as he straightened his coat, unfazed."That was hot," Zara thought, ignoring the feeling of Sophia rolling her eyes. As if on cue, Crowley's eyes snapped up and bore into her, instantly filling Zara with stood with her back against the wall,preparing to accept a painful fate at his hands. But then she remembered – she had an archangel protecting her. She relaxed her muscles and took a deep breath, easing the tension on her face. Maintaining eye contact with him, she slowly walked forward, placing one foot in front of another confidently. She held her chin up, not wanting to show weakness.

"That's impressive. Killing demons like that. I've never seen that before," Zara praised. She extended her hand. "Zara."

He shook her hand in response. "I know who you are. And seeing as the archangel inside you hasn't… struck me down yet, I'd say we're on the same side."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now. I'm on _my_ side."

"A strong, independent woman… I like that. Along with tall and mysterious men, of course." Crowley scanned her expression. "Word on the street is Lucifer and his lady are having marital problems."

"It's not my place to gossip. Anyway, it looks like I have to get back and report this… incident." Her arms gestured to the dead demons.

"Ah, you do that. And don't skimp out on the details, like the part about Brady and me."

"Okay, but I'm sure there are some things we can keep… to ourselves." Zara gently placed an arm on Crowley's shoulder and moved closer to him, resting the other arm at his waist, close to his coat pocket. She gave him a seductive smile and he grabbed her waist, pulling her closer to him. "I like a man who takes control," she whispered, the space between their lips begging to be closed. She traced his pocket and carefully placed the tracker coin in it.

Crowley smiled in return, enthused by the new opportunity presented. "Time's ticking. I'll keep in touch, love." With that, he teleported away.

 _Good thinking, Zara. I'll take over from here._ Her eyes flashed green.

* * *

 **(Sophia's POV)**

I looked down at Timothy. He had been shot with a bullet engraved with a devil's trap. Placing my fingers on his forehead, I concentrated and pushed the bullet out. In an instant, Timothy moved his limbs around and slowly got up. He looked at me nervously. "What was that? What were you doing with him?"

I placed a hand on his shoulder and flew us both to the throne room. Timothy landed on his knees, unused to flight. He scrambled to get up and dusted off his coat. Lucifer turned upon hearing the thud of Timothy's fall, previously engaged with a map of the United States. He looked at both of us curiously. "What happened?"

"Sir, Brady's office was empty and his team was slaughtered. We went to check with the local intel-gatherers but we were ambushed by Crowley. He and Brady are…" Timothy shuddered. "'lovers in league against Satan'… sir. He spared the both of us." He glanced at me questioningly, wondering whether to tell him about Zara's flirtatious encounter with Crowley.

Lucifer sighed and turned to me. "And you just stood by? Allowing them to be slaughtered?" He threw up his hands. "Of course you did."

"Well, if I didn't, I wouldn't have been able to get you his location. You're welcome."

"You know where Brady and Crowley are? Where?" Lucifer asked.

I turned to Timothy. "Leave." He looked to Lucifer. Lucifer nodded and the demon left. Now it was just us. I gazed at him, remembering the love between us. It was a love that endured billions of years and a lengthy separation. I used this thought to suppress my anger at what he had done. Nearing him, I placed my palm on his cheek, and healed his vessel once again. Holding my palm to his face, he gently kissed my wrist. "I found the tracker you placed on me." I kept my voice calm.

He paused. I dropped my hand. "There's an explanation-"

"I'm sure. But I doubt it will be a good one." Lucifer remained speechless. I didn't give him a chance to say anything. "And if you locate the tracker now, it'll lead you right to Crowley."

His eyes held a longing. It was the same longing I felt then. To be reunited with him, to become one with him. But it didn't feel right for either of us, and he knew it. With a hint of disappointment in his voice, he nodded and simply said, "Alright. I'll get on it."

The night was lonely.


	22. The Unholy Creation

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 22: The Union**

"Nice to finally meet you." I extended my hand.

"Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine." Pestilence shook my hand. "I am a big fan of your work on virology." Tracing my knuckles with his thumb, he pressed his lips to the back of my hand. I cringed internally but I didn't want to be rude so I maintained a courteous expression. He was masquerading as a doctor in this home for the elderly, _Serenity Valley Convalescent Home_ – it was the perfect cover for his experimental work on human diseases. "In fact, your work has had a huge influence on the synthesis of my signature Croatoan virus. Lucifer is lucky to have you." _Try telling him that._

I grinned. "I'm glad I could help."

He held out his elbow. "Please, do let me show you around."

Doctors, nurses and patients greeted us as we sauntered down the hallways. The brown walls looked gloomy against the white marble floor and the bottom of the doors and walls were streaked with a dirty stain. We stopped by the various wards and he showed me how diseases were progressively introduced down the wards, the old people all but dead as the facility slowly drained the life out of them. He had a few demons posing as medical staff but mostly, it was just him and oblivious human doctors and nurses sustaining the corrupted institution.

"Dr Green! How are you?" A shrivelled old woman on a wheelchair asked warmly as we passed her.

"I'm great, Agatha. How's the heart?"

"Oh you know, the usual. It doesn't seem to be getting better. But my time to meet the Creator is nearing." She looked sullen for a moment, but she soon regained her jovial composure. "And who's this pretty young lady?"

"She's one of our esteemed sponsors. I'm just showing her around."

"That's nice to hear. You have a good one, miss. You look a lot like my granddaughter, Lyla." Pestilence nodded at the nurse behind the wheelchair and she carried on moving the patient to her ward.

"The old folks here are a sweet bunch. Makes it easier to manipulate them." He led me to the morgue in the basement. The air was very damp – ripe for festering viruses and pathogenic bacteria. Moss grew generously at the corners of the ceiling. "And here is where most of my work is done. Even in death, humans serve as fertile breeding grounds for diseases."

"This is fascinating." Rows of corpses lined the sides of the elongated room, in various states of decay. I approached one man and saw that his abdomen was sliced open. Inside, maggots wiggled about in the pool of blood and pieces of shredded organs. Pestilence picked up a pair of surgical scissors with curved blades and turned out the edge of the incision that opened his abdomen.

"See, the hypodermis was torn before the incision was made." He was right; the innermost layer of skin had jagged edges, almost like it was chewed off. "Had he not died from blood loss, the little ones would have crawled right out of him." He chuckled.

Later, in his office, he gave me the details of his operations. Trucks full of Croatoan virus were to be distributed all across the country disguised as vaccine. "So how are the logistics coming along? Are the shipments ready?" I asked.

"Yes, they are. The shipments are packaged and ready to leave on Wednesday."

"Alright." I stood up from a chair in front of his desk. "I'll let Lucifer know about the progress. And thank you for the wonderful tour." I shook his hand again.

* * *

 _ **Back in Hell**_

"Pestilence is doing fine. Things are going according to schedule." Lucifer and I sat next to each other in the library, a coffee table separating us.

"Good."

I pulled my legs up and angled my body towards him, my elbow on the armrest. "But I think you should just let Timothy keep an eye on the warehouse where they're shipping the virus from. I… have an appointment. With the _Nalkam_." Raziel had contacted me earlier, saying that the visualising dye was ready. The team would meet up and go to a neighbouring galaxy to test it out.

I expected Lucifer to probe me further on what it is we were doing. But he didn't. He simply remained calm and nodded. "Okay. As you wish." It had been several days since he killed Gabriel. I'm not saying what he did was okay – it was not and I was still considerably upset by it. But we had to move on to deal with the important matters at hand, like the apocalypse; we couldn't keep sulking on our differences in opinion. Even I was willing to work on our issues, but his apathy was killing me.

"Lucifer."

"Yeah?"

"The final day is almost here. Are you ready to take on Michael?"

"What do you think?"

I stood up and moved over to him, snuggling up with him on his chair. He welcomed it and placed his arms around me. "If you want me to be honest, I don't like the idea of you fighting Michael." I rested my head on his chest, hearing the constant beating of his heart. "I know that this is your fair trial, but when have they ever made anything fair for us? It's always been rigged against us." Now that I had started speaking about it, all the words just flowed right out of me. I sat up and placed my hands on his shoulders. "I don't mean to sound cynical. We're finally together after all this time and I just don't want them to take it away from us. Again."

He sighed and fidgeted with a hand, rubbing it across his chin before looking back at me. "Is this what's been on your mind this whole time? You should have said something."

"I just… didn't want to worry you."

"Sophia, this isn't _my_ fair trial. It's _ours._ I'm doing this for us, to prove them wrong and show them that we won. No one's gonna get in our way ever again if we do this right," he reassured me. His hands trailed up my back from where they were rested on my waist. "And of course I understand you. Sometimes I worry the same. I want so bad to convince my brother to just stand down and put it all behind us, but I'll still be ready in case it goes sideways."

The worry still remained, but I was glad I got it off my chest. I was just relieved he understood me. I should have never doubted him in the first place. Cracking a small smile, I said, "Anyway, I think Michael doesn't know what he's up against. After all these years, he has no way of knowing what you are truly capable of. Besides, you'll have help."

"You're not fighting him with me," Lucifer declared in a matter-of-fact tone. I huffed, amused by his attempt to tell me what to do.

"I know. That's why I'm giving you this." I pulled out a small luminescent vial from my pocket. He held it in his palm and inspected it.

"Your essence? Why?"

"In case you need more power. If you think that he's about to beat you, just break the vial and you can pull some power from me. You're the only one who can use my essence." I let it sink in. "After all, my essence was partially made from yours."

"Oh love…"

"It is the least I could do." He gazed at me the same way he did when I first met him. With awe. "If I was distant before, it was mainly because I don't feel… like I belong in Hell. Demons, torture, this kingdom – it's not really my thing, you know? I'm… sorry." I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I realise that now." His hand caressed my hair. "I should have known that this place was not where you were meant to be. You have always been here because of me and that isn't right. And I'm going to fix this." Lucifer shifted and we both stood.

"What are you talking about?" I straightened my black dress. Holding my hand, he flew and I followed. Eventually, we set foot in a mountainous area in Illinois. The natural landscape extended for miles and the ground was fertile. Very fertile – I could feel the life in the Earth. In between two mountains in front of us was a white building. A dirt road led from it to a bridge, beyond which a proper road extended to a highway. The deep green of the bushes and grass indicated nutritious soil. The building had another majestic mountain as a backdrop, several miles behind it. Still holding hands, we both approached the building, which had a wooden front porch. When we took a step up the stairs leading to the porch, the doors opened by themselves in front of us. "Where are we?"

"Home." I was speechless. _Seriously?_ "Well go on in then. See if you like it."

Inside, the living room was furnished with two couches and some chairs around a table on an expensive-looking carpet. To the right was a fully-filled bookshelf against the wall, next to glass doors that led outside. A wooden table with an overstuffed armchair stood in front of the bookshelf. At the far end was a high counter that separated the living room and the kitchen. To the left, a corridor led to more rooms and a staircase led to more floors. Excluding the basement, the house had a total of five floors. The second room had a laboratory, not too different from the one I had in Heaven. The third floor held a library and an armoury, and the fourth floor was where necessities for my vessel were – a bedroom, closet, etc. – as well as my own personal effects. The rooftop was decorated with plants of all kinds – it was a garden. A bird feeder stood in the centre, occupied by several finches and sparrows.

Approaching the ledge of the rooftop, I let out a hearty laugh, inhaling the fresh scent of the Earth. "I take it you like it then?" Lucifer observed me from a distance. In my ecstasy, I ran up and jumped on him, embracing him tightly. He rocked back slightly and then caught me in his arms, chuckling.

"I don't know what to say, Lucifer. I love this place so much. Thank you." I got down from him and held both of his hands as I led him to the ledge. "How did you get this place anyways?"

"What can I say, I'm The Devil. I get whatever I want." He laughed. "This place is protected." He swirled a finger to indicate the general area we were in. "It is in a nexus of galactic energy so it won't be damaged by the battle." I raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Yeah I paid attention when you went on and on about nexuses in Heaven. Surprising, I know."

Invigorated with happiness, I pulled him to the bedroom. "I'm really grateful…" I teased in between kisses.

"How much?"

* * *

After a _very_ long and enthusiastic show of my gratitude, we both parted ways. I took off to Andromeda, where I met the team. "All of you work separately, yet you all seem to arrive at pretty much the same time," I wondered out loud.

Floating in space, they turned to me. "It's called having a phone. Keeps our communication secret from the angels," Dinah replied, showing me her phone. "You should get one."

"Good idea. Sounds convenient," I agreed.

"Lead the way, Sophia," Raziel gestured. We sped past planets and gas giants, our path illuminated by nearby stars and nebulae. It was going to be a long trip. Raziel and I flew ahead, while the others trailed behind.

"If I knew we were gonna be travelling this long, I'd have brought a fag," I overheard Shemsiel complain.

"Not enough gay angels in Heaven for you?" Rahab teased.

"He means cigarette, dummy," Dinah retorted. "And angels don't have sexual orientation!"

"I knew that. I'm just foolin' around."

"How did you get on the team again?" Shemsiel asked.

"I got skills and I'm sharp like a blade." Rahab made knife-cutting noises. I didn't need to turn around to know that Shemsiel was rolling his eyes.

"Hey Pahaliah, how's that teaching job going?" Dinah asked.

"It's great, thanks," her silvery voice was pleasant to hear. "The little ones are such bundles of joy to be around! Who knew that studying human patterns of learning first-hand would be so exciting?"

"Suits you, Pahaliah," Rahab's tone became softer. "You were always good with little angels."

Pahaliah tittered shyly. While they continued this light-hearted chatter, Raziel had a veiled expression. "What's wrong, Raziel? Your whole team seems to be happy but… you're not?"

"It's not that I'm not happy. I'm just… worried," he responded tautly. "Because of our job, we aren't obliged to fight under Heaven's banner and we don't face trouble a lot. With you helping us and the apocalypse looming over our heads, things can go South in a snap of a finger. I'm not sure we can deal with loss again. It took us so long to get over you and Zaphiel and become like… like this. Seeing them happy just makes me wonder whether they understand the risks of what we do."

"It sounds to me like you're carrying what you think their burdens are on your own shoulders. You need to trust that they can take care of themselves, Raziel."

"I know, but still…" He rubbed his neck with a hand. "I can't help but worry. I'm their leader."

"It's understandable. But it's okay to chill out once in a while, you know? They need to see that their leader is doing well too."

He finally cracked a smile. "I guess you're right."

Soon enough, I spotted a silhouette of a planet that was unusually bright to be produced by a nearby star. "There," I pointed, and we approached it. Once we turned around the planet, a whole row of fragments emerged. It was like they had become concentrated in certain regions and then extremely sparse in others. Shemsiel passed me a pouch of the dye he had synthesised. Grabbing a handful, I swung my hand outwards, spreading the dye everywhere.

"Woah," Rahab gasped. Judging by their looks and sounds of surprise, it had worked. They could see the fragments. "These look like what they call 'glitches in the matrix'."

"I'm surprised you could understand The Matrix," Shemsiel mocked, eliciting a side-eye from Rahab. "Just kidding… obviously."

I reached out to touch the first fragment. Its familiar explosion enveloped me and soon dissipated, returning its knowledge to me. "What happens if we touch it?" Raziel asked.

"I don't know. Let's find out. Everyone take one and try to collect it."

The team obliged. Like I'd hoped, it didn't matter who touched the fragment; they all returned to me. This was great – I could speed up the collection of these fragments. The team, being the child-like angels they were, started competing to see who could collect the most. I didn't say anything of it; it was the little things like this that made our lives interesting. Eventually we came close to clearing the whole galaxy of these fragments. When we arrived at the final sector, we came upon something rather unusual.

I noticed it before we spread the dye. A ringing noise that grew louder as we drew nearer. I didn't think much of it at first and the team seemed to be oblivious to the noise. I scanned the space. The fragments weren't very bright here. I tuned out the sounds of the other angels, focusing onthe low-frequency ringing in the space. As I looked on, the fragments became clearer – they weren't white like the others. These were a deep red. Eagerly, the angels used the dye. As it did with me, the bizarre colour was enough to alarm them.

"Is this normal?" Shemsiel asked.

They had all congregated around me. "I… don't think so. Something seems to be off here." As I contemplated what to do next, I noticed that there were only four angels around me. Pahaliah's scream caused all of us to jump. I rushed over to her, finding out that she had tried to touch a red fragment. Wisps of the fragment had entwined around her arms and dug into her form, leaving her in agony. I immediately grabbed onto her and pulled her away. With some resistance, the wisps gave way and released her so suddenly that she slipped from my grasp. Luckily, Rahab caught her in his arms, and comforted her till she got up herself. The others went to their side to make sure she was okay.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I was going to approach them to discuss what to do next. Raziel looked up to beckon me over but I was caught by intrigue when his eyes seemed to widen in surprise. That was when I noticed that now it was I who had been caught in the tendrils. Raziel called my name, but the sound was cut short when I felt something grab me more forcefully and tug me such that I simply fell back. Without a second to understand what was going on, I was dragged away from Andromeda and into the fragment. Everything was black. The place had an unfamiliar aura to it. I wasn't in the universe anymore.

"Hello again, Sophia." The disembodied gravelly voice shook me. It seemed to be coming from a single source yet all around me at once.

"What are you and where have you brought me?"

"We've had this conversation before. Several times, actually, but perhaps only one remains in your memory. You may remember us as those who reached out to you from the black hole." I remembered. That one time, when I was pondering on one of Death's cryptic messages, I saw a black hole that had a strange… sentience about it. Was it the same being or beings?

"I remember."

"Good, because there is something you owe us. The price of your freedom."

"So you are the one they call Khaos?"

"Yes, that is one of our many names, but it isn't important right now. What's important is that you are prepared to give us what we ask of you."

"And what exactly is that?"

"You will know in time, when we send for you again. But you must remember that there is no avoiding this trade, for we opened your prison, and we can put you back in at will."

"Might I ask why you require this sacrifice of me?"

"You do not know enough about your own existence to understand the magnitude of this action." That struck me to be very odd. What do I not know about myself? I would have thought, having lived my own life, that I would know all there is to know about myself. "When the time comes, you _will_ oblige and do what we ask. If ever the thought of straying crosses your mind…" A rumbling noise began. "Your world will face our wrath." A dim light appeared and I made out the figure of a face, twisted into a menacing expression. It was enormous – I was to it what the Earth was to the Sun. As I observed it, I saw that it was not just one face; it was made of several grey and black faces that appeared to be moaning in agony. Its giant sharp teeth and fierce eyes exuded so much power I couldn't comprehend it. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. "Now go. Go back to where you were!" The giant amalgam unravelled and the faces began rushing towards me in torrents of groans and wails. Before I could flap my wings to get the hell out of there, a strong gust of wind shoved me out of the fragment and the familiar ambience of space returned to sensation. I was back.

I was dazed for a moment. I wasn't even in the universe. I was in a different place. And now I'm back. I've never stepped outside this universe since I entered… so it was a strange experience, to say the least. The sound of my name being called snapped me out of my daze.

"Huh?" I stared back at them. They were all holding their angel blades in their hands and poised to fight. Upon seeing me, they eased up and held quizzical expressions.

"What was that?" Dinah implored.

"I… I-I can't talk about it."

"Why not?" Shemsiel challenged.

"Because I need to understand what I just saw!" I needed time to process what I had seen and heard before I could explain to them what just happened. "Until I figure it out, none of you are to ever go near these red fragments. Is that clear?"

They looked dejected, but they nodded, understanding that such confusions were part of the job. Identifying this to be a suitable moment for the team to receive direction, Raziel spoke up. "So the test run was successful. Shemsiel and Rahab, produce more of this stuff so that we can all continue picking up the fragments. We should come up with a system to keep track of the fragments and which ones display this… odd characteristic."

* * *

My mind heavy with doubts, I returned home. The clear night sky was beautiful, the stars an ever-present reminder of the vastness of space. I entered the bedroom and the lights on the walls turned on dimly upon sensing my presence. I traced my fingers along the walls, feeling life flowing through it. The house was alive, and it welcomed me. Another great feature of this place. It surprised me to think about how much thought Lucifer had put into building this house. I took off my shoes and walked barefoot on the wooden floor, stepping out onto the cold semi-circular balcony. I wondered how many days had passed since I left.

"You're back. Just in time." I turned to see Lucifer standing inside. He was wearing Sam Winchester. I smiled. The vessel had said 'yes'. We were both tethered to Earth in our prime forms. But that also meant the final battle was due to take place soon. I went back inside and we both embraced. "So how are you settling in here?"

I looked up at him. "I thought I'd start with planting roses out front."

"Cool, let me help."

As we both stood in front of the porch, I outlined the area I was going to use for the rose bushes. Lucifer began by uprooting the existing growth and leaving the bare fertile soil. Placing my hands on the ground, I extended my awareness to summon rose bushes. The life flowed forth from me, and the damp earth received what I gave it. Slowly, they began to grow in front of us, maturing into full-grown plants. The fragrance of the roses soon emanated and added to the calm and beauty of the place. Likewise, we both worked together to plant all kinds of flowers, food crops and herbs in the area around the house. When we finally finished and stood on the porch, looking proudly at what we had accomplished, it was sunrise. The sky was painted an azure hue and morning dew appeared on the plants. Newly resident birds and insects began chirping somewhere in the forest. All was calm and well. I wanted us to be here forever, without a soul to disturb us and only the plants demanding our attention. But he would have to leave soon, and the worry that he wouldn't come back gnawed at me.

The cool dawn wind blew, sweeping in its wake my hair and the tender fabric of the pale blue maxi dress I'd worn. The look of longing must have been obvious on my face, because he asked me what was wrong. I took his left arm in both my hands, holding the back of his hand to my cheek. "Do you have to go?" I planted a kiss on his knuckles. "We could just stay here together and not worry about anyone else."

The corners of his mouth turned into a soft smile and his eyes glinted with emotion. "I wish there was another way, but there isn't. I have to fight my brother and get us both the justice we deserve."

"Then there's something I want from you. As a guarantee that you will come back to me in one piece." Slowly I traced little circles on the back of his hand with my thumb, relishing the feel of his skin.

"Ha, should I be worried?" he asked playfully.

I paused, trying to find the words. What I had to say was serious, a contrast to his demeanour. Sadness welled up in my chest and threatened to break free. I couldn't even look at him because just thinking about it made me tear up and seeing his reaction would have made it difficult to talk. "When you… stabbed Gabe, it really hurt me. You took away someone I cared about deeply. The three of us used to be together a lot. We…" My voice began to break. "We practically raised him together, Lucifer. I just…" A lone tear fell from my cheek and my finger reached to wipe it away. "I think it's only fair you gave me someone else in return."

Hesitantly, I met his gaze. His eyes welled up with understanding while his smile reassured me. "I thought you'd never ask. I'd be _honoured_ to oblige." He swooped me up in his arms, carrying me upstairs to the fourth floor.

Lucifer placed me gingerly on the bed. What began as sweet kisses evolved into an unbridled passion releasing itself in our moans and gasps of pleasure. We were now more intimate than we had ever been, our bare bodies rubbing and moving together as the first rays of the sun streamed in through the balcony. Although their warmth was barely noticeable compared to the heat between us, the light cast a soft glow on his face, dissipating all the little shadows hiding in creases. He looked genuinely happy. I held onto the sides of his face, hoping that time would crystallise to preserve this gossamer image. Lucifer sensed my yearning and before I could reach up to kiss him again, he brushed my hair from my face and thrusted into me. His lips caught mine mid-gasp and we began a steady rhythm.

The formation of the human vessel was only the first step; forming the union of our essences was the second and far more pleasurable step. As I stared up at him, we joined hands and lips and simultaneously released a part of our essences to mix. For a moment we were as one, any feeling of physical barriers or definitions dissolving. The coldness and fiery power of his essence permeated through me while my creative, warm, and nature-embracing essence flowed through him, the archangelic primordial energy being produced in the process. From our union, a new essence emerged, tethering itself to the newly-formed zygote. Light exploded from us and snuck into every corner of the room. Nearing the end, we both remained entwined with each other, my legs wrapped around his waist and his head dug into my neck. Releasing a final breath of effort, we both reluctantly parted, lying next to each other and panting. We had both pulled a lot of celestial energy in the process and, no doubt, it would have alerted about every celestial being ever but it was worth it. Anyone who has a problem with it can face my wrath.

Lucifer let out a joyous laugh in between his deep breaths. "We should have done this long ago. We'd have made hundreds by now."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "Hundreds? It's taking so much out of us just to make one!" I propped myself up with an elbow to face him. I traced his torso with my hand and gently kissed him on the neck and cheeks. "So where are you meeting Michael?"

He pushed a lock of hair away from my face, caressing my cheek. "Stull Cemetery. Near Lawrence, Kansas." Kissing my forehead, he got up and put on his clothes, the remnants of his touch still fresh on my skin. "I have to go now." His disinclination to leave was soon replaced with the fiery determination to defeat Michael. "I will come back for you. The both of you." His wings spread wide and he took off, leaving me alone with a bed that grew colder with every second.


	23. The Will of God

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 23: The Will of God**

I traced the lonely bed with my fingers as I lay on it, facing the open balcony. The curtains danced in the cool breeze. I missed him already. My heart pounded with anxiety as I contemplated how the final battle was going down. I could imagine Michael's bold and heavy blows clashing with Lucifer's nimble and strategic moves. I remembered the war that we fought before The Fall. It was a long and tough one, and Michael came close to ending me several times. Lucifer had barely managed to hold off the swarm of angels combined with Michael's attacks. We had lost badly – many loyal angels were felled that day – and Michael and Raphael casted both of us out themselves, citing that it was God's will.

 _God's will._ For so long I had grappled with the question of what exactly God wanted – it seemed like He purposefully made blemishes in the universe, but what for? Were we – the angelkind – not good enough? And for someone who had once wanted all of Heaven to bow before the humans and protect them, He was totally fine with destroying half their planet for an ultimatum between His two most beloved sons. It had never been easy to understand and follow God. But what was His will for the final battle? My heart ached at the possibility that this was all to prove some point to Lucifer and me that what we did was wrong, and that Michael was ultimately destined to win.

I explored the area around the house, trying to clear my mind and hope for the best. Walking through a forest on the outskirts of the area that I had usurped as my own garden, I came across a small waterfall that led to a gentle river. The water was clear and the pebbles at its bottom shone elegantly. Still naked, I stepped in the water and submerged myself in it, indulging in its cool embrace. Holding my breath as long as I could, I felt the world around me recede, leaving only the velvety feel of water and the distant sound of the nearby cascade. I was in a protective bubble, just like the shelter Lucifer gave me. Everything was so beautiful, so wonderfully tranquil, but anxiety still gnawed at me. I surfaced, running my hands through my hair to push it back before I stood steadily on the river bed. I rested a hand on my belly. Closing my eyes, I channelled the background energy of the universe, as I had in that open space in Heaven when I felt connected to the universe. I used this energy to feel the stirring of life within me. I felt the pull of the new life – it needed to be fed. At this initial stage of conception, the life form was unstable so it was crucial that it was fed appropriately right now. The universe responded, granting me its gifts and satisfying the seed. As I received, I noticed a familiar presence among the stream of energy flowing through me. A familiar, ancient feeling that I hadn't felt in eons – it was God! God was responding to my request. Was He blessing me, like He would the _Gravidas_? I wanted to reach out and communicate with Him, but I found that I could not – He had masked Himself quite well. He didn't want to be found. Yet, it was comforting to know that The Creator Himself had approved of this conception. Overwhelmed, tears streamed down my cheeks.

I thought back to Lucifer. He would have to be with me and help me raise this child. This was no doubt a great opportunity for us to redeem ourselves in the eyes of God and make things right. Now I had so much more to care about than just vendetta. I couldn't leave Lucifer's victory to chance. I had to be there and, even if it meant that I killed Michael myself, I would have to do what was necessary. Drying myself and putting on clothes, I decided to fly to Stull Cemetery.

Joy left my heart racing as I soared through the skies. Green pastures and yellow cornfields passed below me. Just as I contemplated why the intensity of the colours began to dull, I realised that I was getting extremely dizzy and nauseous. It got so bad that I had to land and hold onto a tree in the middle of nowhere, keeling over until the spell passed. Black spots clouded my vision. Must be the baby. Amidst it all, I felt an angel approaching.

"There you are," a male voice said, unmistakably recognisable. _Raphael._ What was he doing here? Had he come to hurt me, in my time of vulnerability? I had to run away. My vision slowly returning, I edged away, but I was abruptly stopped by a hand grabbing onto my elbow and spinning me to face him. "Not so fast. I've been looking all over for you." I tried struggling out of his grasp but I was exceptionally fatigued. Several angels emerged from the trees around us. A sense of dread overcame me as I heard the clank of handcuffs and my arms were bound.

* * *

"Sit." Raphael pushed me down onto a chair. We were in God's office. Of course, God wasn't here anymore. Michael and Raphael had taken over, using His office as their own. What a shame. I inspected the handcuffs. They were made to hold an archangel. I couldn't use my powers with them on. _Ugh._

"I don't know what you think you're doing," I spat out bitterly. "But Lucifer will kill you too if you lay a finger on me."

Raphael let out a hearty laugh. "You talk a good game, Sophia, but I'm afraid that's not gonna happen. Lucifer is gone."

 _Gone?_ "You're lying. I would know if either Michael or Lucifer was killed, and that hasn't happened yet."

Sitting opposite me, a desk separating us, Raphael leaned back, confidently placing an elbow on an armrest. "That's true, but neither of them died. They're both trapped in the cage."

 _Impossible._ "What? How?"

"That annoying human, Sam Winchester, opened the doors of the cage and jumped in, taking Michael and Lucifer with him. Such a shame. But it wouldn't matter anyway because Lucifer won't be able to find you." Raphael stood up and walked around to me. Grabbing my neck and pulling it back, like he did so long ago, he spoke softly but spitefully, "My brother always had a soft spot for you. That was his downfall. You masqueraded as one of us for so long and you slowly tore my family apart."

Biting my teeth, I replied, "What are you gonna do, kill me? Then do it already, you coward. I'd rather not listen to any more of your whining."

"Kill you? If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago. You were a slow poison for Heaven, and so I will end you slowly and painfully. You will be my prisoner and you will beg me to release you with death as a mercy by the time I'm done with you."

"You can't lock me up, Raphael. The vault's been busted open. There's a lot to undo to get me back in there."

Raphael smirked. "I wasn't going to use the vault. I'm keeping you here, in Heaven, where I can keep an eye on you and use you as a bargaining chip to get Lucifer to surrender. You're going to spend every day thinking about how I bested you at every opportunity and how you became the weapon of Lucifer's destruction." _Keep thinking that, asshole. I'm still gonna take you down._ "But before I send you away, I need to address the elephant in the room." His eyes flicked between my abdomen and my eyes. "Some nerve you two have, disobeying another sacred order given to us by Father."

I huffed. "Please, you know Lucifer and I have never been fond of rules. What are you gonna do about it?"

"Hmm… I don't know yet. But don't count on it to save you. If I wanted to, I would kill it in a heartbeat. Or I could keep it from you and raise it to serve me. I would make a good uncle, don't you think?" I scowled at him. "But that isn't the only thing. I hear your former apprentices have been in contact with you for some time. Such a shame, but we knew it would come to this soon. That's why I had to take measures."

"What did you do to them?" Morbid possibilities swirled in my mind. Raphael better not have hurt them.

"They know too much. I can't kill them. But if they won't respect my authority, I will just have to force them to. They are chained up in Heaven, just like you are. But they still work for me, in their offices. If you try anything, you can be sure that they will feel it."

He stood upright. Nodding to an angel behind me, he walked back to his table. Two angels grabbed me by the arms and pulled me away, leading me down the nostalgic hallways and stairs of the compound. We soon entered Heaven's prison. A narrow path was flanked by prison cells on one side and a wall on the other. It was dimly lit, the only light streaming in through the small rectangular windows sparsely distributed on the walls. Eager eyes of other imprisoned angels glanced my way as I was led to my cell, a slightly larger one than the others that lay right at the end of the path. The bars were reinforced with runes and sigils to prevent my escape. Locking me in, the guards took off my handcuffs. My freedom was lost like the noisy close of the rusty prison doors.

* * *

So this was it then. My cell. A bed on one side to lie down and a shelf on a wall with books to keep me occupied. At least Raphael tried to make it somewhat decent for me to stay in. Too bad I wasn't going to be in here for long. I didn't have a plan for escape yet, but this was Heaven – there had to be something I could exploit. A structural weakness, disobedient angels, something. I just needed to be patient. I sat on the bed and placed a hand on my tummy. Despite my predicament, I smiled. _We're going to get through this._

"Is it true? Are you really pregnant?" A muffled voice sounded from the other side of the wall connecting my cell with the next.

"Who's asking?"

A pause. "Gadreel."

"Ah, Gadreel. How have you been holding up?" I rested my head on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I've been paying for your sins." Bitterness laced his voice.

"That's… unfortunate."

"I never meant to let Lucifer deceive me!"

I sighed.

"I don't deserve to be here." I could sense that his angst was genuine.

"Oh, stop complaining. I could say the same about myself. The archangels could imprison whoever didn't comply with their power-driven agenda. They did that to Hassiel, didn't they? How is he anyway? Hassiel."

"You don't know?"

I sat up. "Know what?"

"Hassiel isn't here anymore. He escaped long ago. I just wish he'd taken me with him, but that's too optimistic."

 _Amazing._ At least he wasn't being tortured, imprisoned or forced to work for Raphael and Michael. I would have to find him sometime. "Then it's true that we may have a chance of getting out of here too."

"I doubt it. After he escaped, the prison has been reinforced with all kinds of alarm systems. We can't even communicate with anyone outside these walls without the guards being alerted."

"Is that so?" An idea clicked in my head.

"Yes. Just my luck that I became your scapegoat."

I rolled my eyes. "If I promise to get you out of here, will you shut up?"

* * *

Weeks passed. Raphael was considerate enough to get a nurse to serve me nutritious herbs for the child. I was surprised that he hadn't expressed an overwhelming disapproval of the new offspring. Perhaps it was too soon to judge. All the time spent by myself, I monitored the growth of the baby. My belly slowly swelled, and the child became more clearly a son. When Gadreel finally wore himself out complaining I filled the silence humming and reading to my baby, feeling his tiny wings caressing my womb. My love for him only grew by the day. I had a simple plan of escape, but I needed to bide my time and wait for the right moment.

Out of the blue, guards rushed into the prison one day and cuffed me. They dragged me out of the cell hurriedly and aggressively, with no mind for courtesy or gentleness, not that I should have expected any. Eventually I ended up in a really dark room with its only light coming from a lamp on the ceiling in the centre of the room. I was strapped to a chair under the light. The guards refused to answer any of my questions. They simply left, their only job to deliver me here. In a moment, I was left all alone with only my thoughts. Then the door opened and he entered.

Raphael's bronze eyes glowed in the darkness as he approached and stepped into the light, where I could see Raphael's face more clearly. A sick smile was plastered on his face as I examined him. "We're gonna have a lot of fun today," he teased as he pulled up a table with all kinds of instruments on it. He wanted to torture me.

"You know I can heal myself right?" I reminded him.

His grin widened, his head bobbing back as he huffed nonchalantly. "That's not the point," he replied. "In those straps, you won't be able to heal yourself. You'll feel as much pain as your vessel will." He was right. Even if I could heal my vessel later in my cell, Zara would be able to feel everything. " _You'll be fine, just hang on, alright?"_ I mentally reassured Zara. She seemed to be preparing herself for the pain as much as I was.

Raphael wasted no time in beginning his treatment. He picked up a small knife and began with an incision from my left shoulder to elbow. He went slowly, taking time to savour the gushing of blood. Crimson streams streaked my arm as blood dripped onto the floor. I winced, biting my teeth through the pain. He traced the incision with a finger, increasingly pressing into the wound and opening it more. I tried to wriggle away from him to no avail, the straps preventing such an escape. With a bloody thumb, he traced my lips, holding my chin up as his eyes bore into mine with a desire I had never known him to have before.

He rested the blade on my lips. "Were these the same lips you used to seduce Lucifer?" he asked rhetorically before swiftly pulling them down, cutting my lips. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. "The same cheeks which he couldn't resist?" The blade roughly slit my right cheek. "The same forehead?" Another gash.

I groaned sharply. Blood felt sticky on my face, and began to appear in vision as it dripped from my forehead. "You're a perverted fuck, you know that?" I taunted him. "You think being up here in Heaven makes you so high and mighty above your brother, but deep down, you're just like him. You have a darkness in you, just like him. Except he had the Mark to explain it." I spat out blood.

Raphael's nose crinkled and a psychotic fury filled his eyes. "Enough with the foreplay!" he yelled as he wrapped his palms around my neck and squeezed tightly. I whimpered helplessly as I felt my trachea getting crushed. Black spots filled my vision before he stopped. I felt the bruises immediately showing as he let go, while I gasped for air. His outburst was something I never expected. It was as if he was re-enacting something he envisioned to release all his misery.

He stepped back momentarily, staring in a daze at the other instruments he had on the table. His fists were clenched, as he seemed to ruminate on something. "Who hurt you?" I asked in between gasps.

His irises flicked to me. "You did." Picking up a rod with trembling fingers, he heated it up. A small pause punctuated this moment as he held up the rod and watched it glow brightly. With a gruff grip, he touched it to the sole of my foot. The smell of burned human flesh reached me before the pain did. I arched my back in my seat, my screams doing nothing to relieve the pain. Initially delayed by his uncertain hold on my body, the rod soon found other target sites, like my neck, chest and thighs. Raphael leaned in close to me when he did this, finding some unknowable pleasure in sensing my agony in as many ways as possible.

When he was done, I was too tired to even see. I lay my head backwards, my body resigning to whatever he had planned. He cupped my face with a hand, whispering, "I thought I was doing my Father a favour. You were bad news from the day He brought you in and I was the only one who knew the truth! But He ordered me to put you away and I thought I would get better, you know? But knowing that you were still out there, existing… it just… gnawed at me." I began to get dizzy and nod off. He tapped my cheeks a few times to keep me awake. "Hey, stay with me, now. I was the only one who knew… so I was the only one He told the truth to about the vault. I can tell He regrets bringing you home… but He still cares for you somehow…" words began to fade in and out. "… not a lie… God blessed… I know… everything…" Everything turned pitch black.

* * *

I awoke in my cell. My wounds were partially-healed. A tray of untouched herbs lay near the bars. Every now and then, guards came down to check on the inmates. Sometimes, their gossip would be intriguing. Once, they spoke of Raphael's meeting with Castiel. What would a powerful archangel like Raphael have to say to a rogue angel like Castiel? It piqued my curiosity to hear that Castiel had boldly rejected Raphael's order to bow down to him. "What? No way. No one would dare piss off Raphael like that," one angel responded.

"I'm telling you, Castiel did it. Raphael gave it to him so bad, he landed in someone's personal Heaven! And then he told some angels who thought he was 'God's chosen' that God wants them to be free, and without a leader. The audacity on that one… I'll never get it."

"I don't know about that. Lucifer annihilated him and God resurrected him! That's gotta mean something, right? He's definitely got my attention."

Looks like Castiel ruffled Raphael's feathers. We may be on the same side after all.

* * *

Weeks later, Raphael stood outside the bars, observing with a quiet Schadenfreude while I was reading a book on my bed. "Did you just come here to watch?" I placed the book down, and moved closer to the bars to face him. "Because it'll get boring real soon."

"Actually, I'm here to take you out for a walk. A small glimpse of freedom before I put you back in here." He held out handcuffs through a horizontal opening in the bars. Reluctantly, I extended my wrists and he secured the cuffs. Withhis hand guiding me by the elbow, he led me to Heaven's courtyard. We stood on the podium whereseveral high-ranking angels were assembled before us.

"This isn't a walk…" I began, but Raphael cut me off.

"I lied. But your role here is crucial, nonetheless. Now stay quiet and watch." He turned to the crowd and, in a loud booming voice, addressed all the angels. "Greetings, brothers and sisters. I have summoned all of you here today to talk about our future. As you all know by now, my two brothers are now trapped in the cage. Unfortunate, but a minor setback. God wanted the apocalypse, and we should not let this stand in the way of His will. We will find a way to release them from the cage, and all will be right again. To those of you worried that Lucifer may win, I can assure you…" he grabbed me and pulled me forward, "… that won't happen. It is obvious now that Lucifer and Sophia were involved… intimately. These two sinners have kept it a secret for so long even before The Fall and, as we all know, pursuing such relations are prohibited for archangels, let alone between two archangels themselves. As though it wasn't enough to dishonour the power given to them by God, they chose to procreate, bringing shame to not just God, but all of us!"

 _That was it. I'd had enough of this._ It was my turn to speak up. "You talk so much about God's will, but what if I told all of you that this child is part of it? That's right, God blessed my child!" Gasps resounded through the audience. "Do you think he would be this healthy if not for God? I felt him, brothers and sisters, I felt his blessings."

"Lies!" Raphael cried out. "She deceives you! You all know she is perfectly capable of doing so!"

"Would I lie about the health of my child? After all, he is your nephew. All of you will become uncles and aunts, so do you want this child to be birthed in such hostile company? We all want the same thing – we want Heaven to be as glorious as it once was. What better way to restore Heaven than a new archangel son to lead us all in fixing our family?" Raphael was seething. I could see that what I'd said had an effect on some angels. But none dared to speak up.

"This is ridiculous. A child begotten of Lucifer and Sophia will be just like them – a sinner – and no amount of posturing is going to change that!" Raphael paused, composing himself. "The apocalypse will carry on. Michael will win. This child will be starved of whatever it needs to grow, and then it will die slowly. That's the end of that."

As he prepared to leave, the flap of wings caught our attention. It was Castiel. He stood between us and the angels. And he looked… powerful. His grace glowed brightly with the power of 50,000 souls. He came prepared for confrontation. But why? As I looked on with anticipation, he turned to Raphael, speaking with determination. "There will be no Apocalypse. And let it be known – you're either with Raphael or you're with me." Valiantly, he raised a hand and blasted Raphael away, leaving a gust of wind to brush against me as the blast missed me narrowly. Dazed, I stared at Castiel.

Panicked mumbles swept through the crowd. Raphael's closest aides, who had been standing by so far, took off after the blast in an effort to find him. Several angels also followed them to help or anxiously returned to their posts. What was intriguing was that there were any angels remaining at all. It seemed Castiel had enamoured some angels enough to gain a following. Facing them, Castiel proclaimed, "Brothers, sisters, you have all been deceived for far too long. God, our Father, left us long ago. Michael and Raphael have merely been standing in for Him and lying to you that their commands come from God when in fact, even they don't know what God wants. We don't need to follow them, or be afraid of them anymore. If you join me, we can take him down together and reclaim Heaven for what it is supposed to be – our home."

Things just got interesting. The angels hadn't walked away from him yet. One came forward with a reasonable doubt. "What you said, Castiel, it makes sense but… Raphael is far more powerful than us and he will definitely have more supporters. It seems a bit risky to go to war against him."

My window of opportunity was here. Finding that no guards were around me, I hopped down from the podium to face them. "I can help you." They turned to me. "You and I are a lot alike, Castiel. You now find yourself in the same position I was in several years ago, and the freedom I hear you spoke of is exactly what I fought for before. I am powerful enough. I can help you take him down. Then Heaven is yours to do as you wish." I held up my bound wrists. "But first, I'll need you to get me out of these."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at me. He was clearly considering what I had to say. But another angel tried to dissuade him from accepting my proposal. "You can't throw in with her, Castiel. She betrayed all of us even when God was here. She cannot be trusted. If you free her, we cannot follow you." He scanned the angels. They all nodded in agreement. He seemed to be faced with a tough choice. After a brief hesitation, he addressed them once more. "You're right. We cannot employ the help of someone notorious for betrayal. I will see to it that she is locked away personally."

I rolled my eyes. He grasped my chains and guided me back to the prison. As we came upon the guards, they saw that Castiel was coming to return me to the prison. They weren't at the courtyard so they didn't know about the altercation. "Rethink Raphael's order?" One of them asked while opening the door to the prison. "Good on you, brother."

The guard poised ready to take me off his hands, but Castiel remained. "Raphael wanted me to lock her up personally."

Giving us a quizzical expression, the guard passed the keys to my cuffs and cell to Castiel, both kept together on the same ring. "Be careful with that." Castiel nodded at him and the other guards and we entered the prison.

Pushing me forward with a hand on my shoulder, he said in a hushed voice, "Can you really defeat Raphael?"

I smiled. "Yes. And with your help, victory is guaranteed."

"How can I get you out of here?" We slowed our pace.

"Just wait for my signal. In 48 hours, I'll make sure that the guards come in to check on me and when they do, you will kill them and get the keys."

"Kill them? But they're just doing their job."

"You just started a war. There will always be casualties, and you know that. Can I trust you to release me?"

"Alright. But why wait? We could flee now."

"I can't do that yet. The _Nalkam_ are being held hostage by Raphael and forced to work against their will. I just need time to make sure that they are safe. These are good angels, Castiel, and we should work to free them too."

We reached the cell. He unlocked the door and let me in, taking off my cuffs before locking the door. "No one can know about our alliance," was the last thing he said before leaving me to dwell on this new opportunity.


	24. The Experiment

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 24: The Experiment**

Working with an angel who helped lock Lucifer back up. I didn't say I liked the circumstances, but my hate for Raphael trumped this polarisation. Raphael was a threat to my child and me. I'm sure Lucifer would understand.

The clicking of heels echoed. Raphael was back to see me, as I suspected he would. "Even rebellious angels can tell that you're trouble. It's that obvious now," he gloated. "I'm not complaining, makes my life easier."

"There's still trouble in your own ranks." I was pulled out of a meditative trance, but I kept my eyes closed.

"That will be no problem. Castiel may try, but no amount of souls is going to be enough to defeat me. No angels are going to take him seriously."

"Are you sure? Seemed like he knocked you off your feet well enough earlier."

"I was caught off-guard. Won't happen again." He adjusted the button on his suit. "Your daily nutrition was ceased yesterday. You seem too calm."

"The right kind of meditation puts you in a place of peace and quiet… nothing can disturb you." I raised my arms and joined my palms, bringing them down to my chest with a release of breath. "Besides, the baby is old enough to survive one day of not being fed."

"Well that won't last forever. It'll wither and die eventually without the proper nutrients. Oh but you know, I might just consider giving you food again. Maybe I'll put some poison in it. Just a little, and then one day you will get up and feel nothing growing inside of you… Maybe I've already done it."

My eyebrows creased. I opened my eyes, tears uncontrollably welling up at the possibility. "You won't… you can't. No such poison exists to kill angel fetuses, let alone an archangel one. God wouldn't allow it."

One side of his mouth curved up into an evil smile. My vessel's heart pounded wildly. " _Occatin._ Ever heard of it?"

"The anaesthetic. They give it to young angels when they are born so that their powers can manifest without them trying to suppress it too much." I'd learnt a lot about pharmaceuticals during my time tagging along with Raphael in the wards in Heaven.

"That's correct. But give it to a _Gravidas_ and the unborn dies. The wings get stuck together and exert so much pressure on the child that it just slowly loses form. I suspect that a larger dose will suffice for you."

"How would you know what it does to an unborn angel?"

"I think you know the answer."

 _Please tell me he didn't…_ "You tested it on a pregnant _Gravidas?_ " I was fuming. I stormed up to him. "You cold-hearted son of a bitch! How could you do this to one of your own kind?"

"To several, actually. After you left, I supervised your team and I had a number of… _experiments_ in mind. They were hesitant at first but _I am_ a force of persuasion. I was just carrying on the torch of your work, Sophia – seeking knowledge. And I have to say, it is quite enjoyable."

The frigid look on his face made me sick. "I would never carry out live experiments on our kind, especially the kind that kills them. There is an ethic to what we do to seek knowledge, Raphael. You can't just test dangerous substances like that."

"Oh? Well I wasn't sure that there was an ethic to anything you did, Sophia. Either way, the _Nalkam_ are synthesising the Occatinas we speak. How delightful. You did train them well."

Clenching my fists, I tried to hold on to the thought of seeing them again. "You're lying. They wouldn't synthesise something dangerous like that even if you did have them chained up," I taunted.

"Hmm." Raphael fidgeted with his pockets before finally taking the handcuffs from a nail on the wall on which they were hung. "Maybe you should see for yourself." He held them open through the horizontal opening in the bars.

Pretending to eye him suspiciously, I extended my wrists, allowing him to secure them. I stepped back and waited for the doors to swing open. Raphael held his arm out to beckon me. He placed a possessive arm on my back as he led me down the hallways to the lab. The smell of chemicals reached me before I could take in the sight of the area. Like most other rooms in the building, the lab was one large, elongated room with a high ceiling that was bordered by windows which let in light from outside. The walls of the room were lined with shelves and equipment, only breaking to lead into offices. The pastel red colour of the walls gave a warm glow to the whole lab. Work benches were lined neatly near the entrance of the lab, whereas a freer space with furniture was found to the back where the angels could have meetings. Guards stood threateningly at every corner.

I saw them moving around with long chains binding both their arms. They all looked tired, overworked and miserable. It saddened me to see a jovial bunch put to work like slaves. But at least they were alive. Raphael grabbed the chains linking my cuffs and dragged me toward a bench where Dinah was heating something in a conical flask. As he stopped before her, her eyes caught mine and widened in shock. "Dinah, do tell Sophia what you are doing right now," Raphael ordered.

Her voice stammering, she answered, "I-I'm heating the powdered sample of a _Thulius Arum_ flower to vapourise the unwanted substances s-so that we'll be left with an impure mixture of…" Her gaze bore so much guilt.

"Of what, Dinah?" Raphael pressed.

She swallowed. "…of Occatin." The other _Nalkam_ had gathered behind this bench, looking on with fear and discomfort. "I'm sorry." She was close to tears. I gave her a reassuring look to convey that I forgave her.

"That's right." Raphael turned to the gathered angels. "Raziel, bring us the sample of Occatin your team prepared last week." He then walked over to a guard, momentarily leaving me alone with the team. They wasted no time in huddling around me.

In a low voice, I tried to console them. "I know that all of you have no choice in this matter. Just play along with what he has planned for now. I promise I'll get you all out of here."

Shemsiel leaned in. "But how? I really want to believe you… but it seems like a long shot, Sophia."

"I have a plan, and it will take effect soon. Just be ready to strike when the time comes." A glimmer of hope brightened their gazes just as I saw Raphael coming back towards me. I whispered final words of optimism. "Just a little while more, I promise."

Raphael pulled me towards the opening between the work benches and the furniture. The team followed suit, keeping their distance as two guards intercepted them. "Time for a demonstration." He held up the vial. "Lucky for you, Occatin is difficult to synthesise. This tiny vial is the most they could come up with in the last week. This would be considered only half a dose needed to kill a typical angel fetus, but I suppose that is much less than the amount you will need. Good thing we can test the effects for the first time on an archangel."

"No…" I tried to back away but the two guards grabbed my arms and held me in place. Another guard approached Raphael with what appeared to be a cup of water. Uncapping the vial, Raphael emptied the blue powder into the water. A psychotic glint in his eye, he approached me with the cup. I struggled against the grasp of the guards, flinging one of them away. More rushed to restrain me and soon I was caught firmly. Panic gripped me and I started thrashing wildly, nearly kicking Raphael in his stomach before a guard held my legs down. I couldn't escape. Satisfied, Raphael closed in on my neck, he pressed the cup to my lips and forced the warm liquid into my mouth. Trying my best not to swallow, I simply spat it back into his face. His grip tightened and he used a thumb to lift my chin up, forcing the liquid in again and then rubbing the muscles of my throat to force me to swallow. Powerless to resist, I groaned as I felt the traumatising flow of the poisoned concoction enter my body. Passing the cup to another guard, he took out a pocket square and wiped the water off himself. The guards let go of me. Before I could come to terms with what had happened, I looked up to see Raphael's clenched fist strike me in the jaw. I grunted as I fell to the ground.

As I stared down at the ground, I felt the effects taking root. It started as a twitch in my belly. And then it grew and became more intense. My heavy breathing soon evolved into sobs as a true understanding of despair filled my mind. I wasn't in pain. No, it wasn't me who was suffering. My child was struggling, his tiny form squirming to be free from this agony. Hiswings curved unhealthily towards each other and his body began to stretch painfully. I clutched my abdomen, my legs curling up to shield it. I willed the effects not to be severe. _Please…_ I was so desperate I would have prayed. How pitiful, for a nigh-powerful being to be reduced to someone who prayed for a higher power. I became dizzy as my son held onto life as tightly as he could, feeding off me more than he should in an attempt to relieve the pain. Slowly, but surely, he recovered and a wave of relief washed over me.

I put a hand to my face and found that it was soaked in my own tears. Wiping them away, I stood, the guards helping me up and grasping onto my arms. Raphael was expressionless as he observed me. "I hope you now understand what I'm capable of. And this is just the beginning of what's to come." He nodded to the guards and they began to take me away.

Any fear and pain I felt previously were now coalesced into pure hatred. Staring daggers at him, I made a vow. "You better watch your back, Raphael, because I'm coming for you. I will end you with my own hands. I swear it on my unborn child's life." I didn't struggle anymore. I went along with the guards passively. The _Nalkam_ stood distraught as I passed them, Pahaliah with her hands to her mouth and weeping while Rahab laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.


	25. The Prison Break

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 25: The Prison Break**

This was a long shot. What was I thinking, committing to a plan without knowing it would work? It's too late to turn back now. Castiel would be waiting. Concentrating, I extended my awareness, reaching as far as I could. I couldn't penetrate the walls of this prison to seek anyone or anything, except myself – my essence, I hoped. I had given Lucifer a vial of my essence for the battle with Michael, hoping that it would give him strength when he found himself outmatched. Now it was I that needed it. It was a lot like grabbing in the dark for a scaffold… while you're falling. And then there was the question of whether I could reach for it through the cage. _Sigh._ I had to hope. With all the force of my will, I searched. Ah, a tingle. I felt it. This could work, after all. I focused on it, and it grew clearer. I imagined myself reaching out my hand to grab the faint spark of light, freckled with motes of green and black. As my imaginary hand tried to grab it, another hand grabbed me in this virtual space. The distinctive scarlet eyes appeared in the dark as somewhat of a reassurance. "Is it really you?" his voice held a desperate optimism.

"Yes, it is. I was worried about you, Lucifer. Are you okay?"

"Only as okay as being in a cage would allow me. It's a good thing you gave me this vial. You can get me out of here."

"About that… I'm in a situation of my own."

"What happened?"

"Raphael happened. He's got me imprisoned in Heaven."

His grip grew stronger. "Did he hurt you? How's the child?"

"The child is fine… but he tried to kill it."

"He what?" His voice grew menacing. "I swear if I get out of this cage…"

"We're gonna have to put that on hold, Lucifer. There's a civil war going on in Heaven, and I need to stay to make sure that Raphael goes down. I'll get you out, I promise. But Raphael means to use me to get to you. I need to make sure that doesn't happen, even if that means leaving you in the cage."

"What? No, get me out of here first. I will help you do whatever you want. You shouldn't have to fight with a child."

"I am not helpless! I can hold my own, child or no child. Besides, you're one to talk. You were ousted by a human!" Maybe I shouldn't have said that. His eyes narrowed with annoyance. I spoke again, softer this time. "What I mean is, I know you have always felt protective over me, but you can't keep this image of me as someone who needs your saving all the time. I was made equal to you. I can handle this."

He sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into you. I am the father of your child, and I am trapped in this cage with my useless older brother who complains all day long, and instead of getting me out of here, you are thinking of a military strategy to get rid of Raphael and what, claim Heaven for yourself? What happened to us, Sophia? I thought you would've instantly come to help me, but clearly I don't know you well enough. And this isn't the first time I've felt this way since we reunited."

"Well, guess what? We spent thousands of years away from each other, suffering in our own prisons. That kind of thing changes us. You aren't the same Lucifer I fell in love with, definitely not since the Mark. And I've accepted that we're not the same as we used to be. Maybe you should too. If you were in my position, you would do the same."

"That's where you're wrong, Sophia. The first thing I did when I got out was put all my effort into finding that vessel of yours. So that I could free you. I wasn't going to destroy this planet and the humans without you."

I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. There isn't much time left to act. I have to do what is necessary for our child. I hope you understand." A loud alarm sounded. That was my cue. "I have to go now. Hang on for a little while more. I'll come for you." I pulled my awareness away. I was back here in the cell. The door to the prison was hastily flung open and guards rushed in.

"Search all the cells!" A guard yelled. There were six of them. Not good odds for one angel and his blade. They started with Gadreel and me. First, they cuffed me, as was protocol. Then they opened up the cell. _Any time now._ I stepped aside, leaning against the open door as the guard walked in. The key was still in the keyhole. I peeked out behind the guards towards the door. Soon enough, a brown trenchcoat came into view. With quiet footsteps he approached. "Castiel? What brings you here?" A guard was caught by surprise.

I rushed out and closed the door, locking it with the key. Castiel wasted no time in stabbing the nearest guard. As the other guards rushed to grab their blades, I pushed one against the other, causing them both to lose balance. Castiel quickly engaged with the second guard, his blade striking furiously against the guard's. A third guard tried to charge me with his blade. I grabbed the guard I previously pushed and held him up as a shield. Shock riddled the expression of my aggressor as his colleague died by his hand. Resolution replaced his shock as he pulled the blade back to strike. I blocked his attackand grabbed his neck with both hands as I sidestepped. I may not be able to access my powers, but at least I still had brute strength. By this time, Castiel had ended two more guards. With all the strength I could summon, I dug my fingers into his neck, tearing it. That wouldn't kill him, but it incapacitated him for a moment as I dealt with the last guard. He was close to disarming Castiel. Approaching him from behind, I placed the chain linking my cuffs around his neck and yanked as hard as I could, leaving him to reach desperately for his neck. Delivering the blade through his chest, Castiel finished him. As his body dropped from my hands, we looked around. Four dead, one locked up and another guard squirming on the floor. I picked up an angel blade and drove it through the squirming angel to put him out of his misery.

I held out my hands expectantly after handing Castiel the keys. With a click, the cuffs came free and fell to the ground. _Good riddance._ But I really shouldn't keep it lying around. I kept them with me. The guard I locked in my cell held onto the bars and tried to rattle them. "Let me out of here! Please, I'll do anything. Just don't leave me here!"

"You're right, I shouldn't leave you here." I snapped my fingers and the guard exploded into tiny angel bits.

"Sophia!" Castiel yelled. "We could have recruited him!"

"Please, he was just doing what he needed to save his own ass. He would have snitched on your plans sooner or later. Besides, you're the one who said no one should know about our alliance." He rolled his eyes.

As we were about to leave, Gadreel stood in anticipation, his eyes wide with desolation. "Sophia, you promised." Castiel gave me a quizzical expression. I found the key to his cell on another guard's body. As I unlocked his door and cuffs, Castiel threw his hands up.

"And you're sparing _him_?"

I opened the door and let him out. "Well I keep my promises, so…" I picked up another angel blade and gave it to Gadreel. "Let's go."

* * *

As we moved to leave more guards rushed in. Luckily I was back at full power. I blasted away as many as I could, exploding the rest. We didn't have much time before more reinforcements arrived. We had to move faster. As we stood at a connector between three hallways, we were faced with an important decision. One way led to the lab where the _Nalkam_ were being kept, and the other led to the exit. Castiel had turned to go towards the exit when I tugged on his elbow to face me. Lines of desperation and worry were etched on his face. "Sophia, there isn't much time before more of Raphael's soldiers arrive. We need to get out here _now._ "

"The _Nalkam_ have been held against their will for weeks, all under the threat of being hurt if I don't comply with what Raphael has in mind. If I escape without them, he will hurt them for sure. So I am not leaving without them. You can go ahead if you want." I waited for a response.

Castiel looked the other way once and then met my gaze again. "Fine, I'll help you."

I looked at Gadreel. "This is my chance to atone for my sins. I'm not walking away now," he swore. I nodded and we darted towards the labs. Using the element of surprise, we rushed into the labs, stabbing and killing every guard we could see. In a matter of minutes, the _Nalkam_ were freed and rubbing their wrists. "I've never been happier to see you," Shemsiel said as thanks.

Just as we were about to leave, Raziel stopped us. "The materials needed to make _Occatin_ are still here. We need to destroy them."

Dinah's eyes lit up. "Can I set it on fire?"

Raziel looked at her with concern. "Dinah, this place is our official office in Heaven. What are we going to do when this fiasco with Raphael is over?"

"I'll fix it for you and throw in some upgrades," I promised.

Dinah turned to Raziel with excitement, her eyeliner-defined gaze beckoning him for approval. Raziel sighed. "Alright, you can burn it down."

She shrieked in a way I never imagined her to and picked up a baton from one of the guards. Smashing some glass instruments and spilling chemicals all over the place while the rest of us stood poised at the door to leave, she snapped her fingers to ignite the mess. A blue luminescent flame spread from one end of the room to another. Meanwhile, Rahab gave Castiel a big bear hug, causing Castiel to tense up uncomfortably before finally relenting and awkwardly patting him on the back. "Thank you so much brother! What you did to Raphael took big _cojones._ "

"I don't know what male genitals have to with saving Heaven from Raphael but I suppose the appropriate response is… you're welcome," Castiel said in a monotonous voice.

Letting out a hearty laugh, Rahab let go and slapped him on the back. Gadreel re-entered after stepping out briefly. "We need to go. Now."

With me in the lead, the eight of us turned into the corridor where the connector was. Just as I looked around the corner, I saw several angels congregating at the junction. I stopped abruptly, assuming cover at the corner, while the others followed and stayed quiet. One angel was using an emergency announcement unit. "Attention all units: we have a code red situation – two escaped prisoners. One archangel and another angel. There also appears to have been an explosion in the labs. Possibly five more angels on the loose. Everyone spread out and search. We need to catch them before they escape." _Shit._ We couldn't leave yet and the building would soon be swarmed with Raphael's lackeys. But what better place to hide than the building where we were held prisoner in the first place? Telling the others to follow, I ran back towards the labs, but instead of turning into the corridor that led to the labs, I took a left towards the armoury.

The armoury was once a sanctum where I sought comfort in my friendship with Hassiel. Although he wouldn't be here now, the armoury could still give me sanctuary now. We could stake out there until the soldiers gave up and when the coast was clear, we could make a dash for the exit. If there were any angels there working on weaponry, we could just take them hostage. When all of us finally made it into the armoury, I shut the door and locked it, putting as much furniture in front of it as I could. Turning around, I faced the puzzled expressions of my companions. "We'll just lay low here until they've given up the search."

The angels were about to disperse and make themselves comfortable when a rattling noise alarmed us. They assumed defensive stances as I located the source of the noise. It was coming from the office, which was at the far end of a wall. I slowly crept up to the threshold and held a blade, ready to strike. The door was open, but I couldn't view the whole office. Counting to three, I rushed into the office. I caught the sight of an angel blade coming at me as I instinctively raised my blade to block and deflect the attack, using another hand to grab the neck of the angel attacking me and pushing him up against the wall. "Sophia?" a familiar voice called.

I exhaled in recognition. My eyes began to tear up. "Hassiel?"

* * *

His vessel had a large build and light blue eyes. His face was aged, with hair and a beard that were peppered with grey strands amongst the youthful black pigmentation. I let him go and gave him a hug. "Too… tight…" he stammered before I released him. "If I wanted death by hug, I'll let you know." I laughed and punched his arm lightly.

He followed me as I walked out of the office, blade lowered to show that he meant no harm. The other angels still looked skeptical. "Relax, everyone. Hassiel's a good friend and it's a good thing we ran into him and not someone else." I turned to him. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"It's a shame to have to steal from your own office, but that's what it's gotten to. I came here to get materials to continue making weapons. You see, I was stocking up for the war that's about to come. There's no way that I'm not fighting to take down Raphael when there's a chance. The bastard and his brother captured and forced me to build that awful cage and vault. Also, I was going to see what I could do about getting you out of that prison cell."

Relief washed over everyone's faces. Castiel stepped forward and extended a hand. "I really appreciate your support, brother." Hassiel shook his hand in return.

I gave Hassiel a warm smile. "I have to ask. How did you escape the prison the last time?"

He chuckled. "Sophia, I built those prisons. I can get out of them." I laughed.

The natural day in Heaven was coming to an end. It became night-time and the armoury grew darker. The Citadel in Heaven technically shared the same solar system as Earth and was located close to it, but Heaven was in a different dimension that vibrated on a different frequency than the one Earth was situated in. So Heaven was vast and almost unending, with inhabited areas being limited to the ones near Earth, but the night-day cycle still shifted around different solar systems depending on where in Heaven you were. With Heaven being such a huge place, it would be easy to hide within Heaven and plan our attack from here. I would have to discuss this with Castiel.

The angels sat huddled in a far corner in the armoury. Castiel and I stood at a distance from them while I explained my idea to him. "They'll search for us on Earth but they would never guess to look for us here. We can use Hassiel's help to make all the weapons we need and train our supporters before we finally mount an attack. We don't even need to leave Heaven now."

"No, we can't do that," Castiel refused.

"Why not?" I pressed.

He seemed uncomfortable to tell me something. "It's… the souls."

"Yeah I saw that you had 50,000 or so souls powering you when you faced Raphael. That's a smart thing to do. You're powerful enough to lead an army alongside me."

"I got the souls from Hell."

Hm. "Alright, so? How'd you pull it off? Did Lucifer give you those souls?"

"I got the souls as part of a deal. With Crowley."

"Crowley? The demon? Who is he to give you that many souls?"

"He became the King of Hell after Lucifer was put back in the cage."

My fists clenched. How dare he steal the throne? It was not his to take. But I couldn't let pride cloud my vision now, not when there were bigger things at stake. Keeping my lips pursed, I pursued the next logical line of thought. "So you made a deal with Crowley. What did he want in exchange for giving you that many souls?" _Nothing good,_ I thought.

"He wants to help me defeat Raphael, even if he's in it for himself, and I think he really could help us." He was avoiding the question.

"What does he want, Castiel?"

"He wants… to open the doors to Purgatory. He wants to share the souls that have been trapped there." _Oh no. Bad idea._ I put my hands to my forehead, walking a few steps away from Castiel to take it in. There were so many ways this would go wrong. The war we fought to put away all those creatures had a huge price tag. I couldn't let Castiel follow through with this.

"You don't know what you're getting into. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? All of God's botched creations are in Purgatory! Those are not the souls you want to be powering you!"

Castiel adjusted his collar, trying to loosen it. "I understand your concerns, Sophia, but there isn't another way. Raphael is very powerful and he has many supporters. We won't have even a sizeable proportion of the number of supporters he has and even with you, I doubt we can overthrow him. With a child on the way, I don't expect you to be at the forefront of this battle." _Hmm_. "Those Purgatory souls may be the only way we can win this fight."

"No, Castiel. There is always another way. I _will_ be on the front lines, and you're just gonna have to trust me when I say that is enough. Take souls from Hell all you will, but Purgatory is bad news and off-limits. I can't let you near it."

"But I made a deal! I need to be on Earth and aid Crowley in his efforts to find Purgatory, or else I lose the souls and I won't be powerful enough to fight this war!"

"Then make another deal, Castiel!" He sighed. "If you want, I'll kill Crowley myself and take the throne of Hell. But no Purgatory."

"What could I possibly offer Crowley in return for the souls from Hell?"

"What about souls from Heaven? We could give them to him after we win."

"Sophia!" He exclaimed. "Those souls are there because they deserve a peaceful afterlife! We cannot disturb their sanctity by giving them to the King of Hell!"

"Alright, alright!" I tried calming him down. I didn't want to attract anyone else's attention. "Just throwing it out there."

"This is pointless. Crowley is conniving and determined to get Purgatory. I'm not sure we can change his mind about that."

He was right. This is why one should be cautious about having partners. You can't make choices for your partners and sometimes you can't find a compromise. Thinking on it, I posited another suggestion. "Play along first. Find out how he intends to get to Purgatory. You know what, you should set up a meeting between him and me. Make him think I'm helping him out. I'll figure out a way to take him out of the equation."

He sighed. "I don't think he would trust you, considering that you were on Lucifer's side not too long ago."

I gave him a sly grin, remembering my brief encounter with Crowley. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can convince Crowley that I'm on his side."

"I'll think about it." _Good._ "But that still means we'd have to return to Earth." I detected a hint of reluctance in his tone.

"Fine. In that case, I know where we can keep out of Raphael's radar." As I turned to call the others, Hassiel approached me. I sent Castiel off to check if the coast was clear so that I could talk to Hassiel privately.

Hassiel gave me a warm smile. "Now that you're here, there is something I need to give you. I found it after I escaped Heaven; you had dropped it during the Fall." He brandished a blade. My blade. "I brought it along just in case I encountered trouble here, but it seems like a good time as any to give it back. I hope you don't mind that I made some updates."

My jaw dropped as he handed it to me. I held it gingerly in my hands, tracing my finger along its edges and handle. It was a short sword, engraved with hard, intricate designs on the handle and softer, flatter designs on the blade. The designs were supplemented with green stones and my sigil was imprinted on the centre of the hilt. The runes used to empower it glowed faintly as my finger moved along the edge of the blade. It was truly a thing of beauty. "Hassiel, I love it. Your craftsmanship is always something to look forward to." I sheathed the blade. "Hass, there's something I need to ask of you."

"Sure, anything," he replied reassuringly.

"If we're going to fight a war, we need all the firepower we can get, right?"

"Of course, that's really important."

"Since you have the key to the armoury, I'm supposing that you have the key to the _special_ weapons too, right?" Hassiel nodded. "We can't let Raphael have them. We need them, Hass."

He took in a deep breath. "This could be really risky. Once we take them out of there, wherever we store it later might not be as safe. We have to be really careful. And…" He eyed the other angels. "The fewer witnesses, the better. Not saying they're gonna rat us out, not intentionally anyways."

 _Sigh._ Keeping more secrets from my team. But he was right. "How would we get the weapons out of here without anyone else knowing?"

"There's an angel I trust. He helps me get in and out sometimes. Name's Balthazaar. He works nearby. We give him the keys, and bust him out. Thing is, if we want him to get out without raising suspicion, we need to be discreet."

We needed an angel to disappear with some of the most powerful weapons ever made. We couldn't take him with us – finding him meant that we would be faced with other angels who wouldn't hesitate to lock me back up. But no one would notice a missing angel in a commotion. We would need to somehow attract the attention of the guards. "I have an idea. Before Castiel comes back, sneak out and find this Balthazaar. Tell him to ring the alarm bell outside when we leave."

"But Sophia, that will alert every guard in the area. How will we get out of here?"

"That's exactly what we need. Once we start fighting them, no one will notice him going to the armoury. Can you do it?"

A steel resolve displaced the doubt in his eyes. "Yes. Give me a 15-minute headstart."

As Hassiel left, I returned to the _Nalkam._ "…the whole thing reeks of tyranny," I heard Raziel say.

"What reeks of tyranny?" I intercepted as I took a seat with them.

"Raphael's supporters. He has angels specially trained in reconnaissance and assassination. It's clear he intends to rule with fear," Raziel explained. "No wonder a lot of angels are expressing support for Castiel. No one deserves that kind of authority other than God. Where did Hassiel go?"

"Oh, he went to help Castiel. To check if the coast is clear." A brief silence eclipsed the moment. I was afraid someone was going to start asking questions. Instead, the topic turned to my conception.

"How's he coming along?" Pahaliah placed a concerned hand on my tummy, feeling for life.

I looked down proudly at it. "He's strong. He'll be fine."

"Have you thought of names yet?" Dinah asked, the corner of her lips turning up at the prospect of a healthy child.

I chuckled. "No, not yet. What's in a name, anyways?"

"Oh, everything," Shemsiel chimed in. "It describes attributes of our personalities. That's why God always names us first. That is… until He left. Well just look at Rahab – proud and quarrelsome, just like his name. The evidence is right there."

Rahab huffed. "You're just making that up! I'm sure it means something like handsome and strong!"

Shemsiel grinned. "See what I mean?"

I laughed heartily at their banter. "Okay, okay. But I don't know much of what he'll be like yet. So maybe I'll put off the naming until he's born. You guys can think of suggestions in the meantime."

The sound of a door being opened startled us. We stood up, blades in our hands. It was Castiel. "It's clear," he reported.

"Wait, where's Hassiel?" Dinah asked.

"Hassiel? Wasn't he here?" Castiel added to the confusion. _Where are you, Hass? You should be here by now._

I tried to cover in the meantime. "He went out to help you. I'm sure he must have just gotten lost on the way."

Castiel's head tilted in askance. At that moment, Hassiel reappeared behind him. "I'm back. Yes, I was just looking for you, Castiel. We can go now."

"It's about time. I thought we were gonna rot in here forever," Rahab joked.

* * *

We treaded silently through the hallways towards the exit to Earth. The gate was not far from the building we were in – we could see it from the entrance. It stood out in the open, in a field flanking the building. A loud alarm caught our attention. Looking the other way, I saw the open space between the main administrative building and the others. Liquid crystal spewed out of a grand fountain. Next to it was an alarm bell, with a lone angel standing next to it. Balthazaar. This was where I had to rush the _Nalkam_ out.

"All of you, get to the gates. Get out of here now. I'll hold the rest of them off," I ordered.

Raziel's facial muscles tightened. "No, we can help. We're all getting out of here together."

 _I don't have time for this._ "Heaven needs the _Nalkam._ Every single one of you. I'm not risking losing any of you. I can keep them occupied while you guys leave."

"And we need you!" He yelled adamantly.

"I'll be fine! Now do as I say, Raziel. This is non-negotiable. Go!" I looked straight in his eyes, expecting nothing but compliance. His eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. Signalling to his team, he led them away. Gadreel, Hassiel and Castiel remained. "Open fire!" someone yelled. A hail of flaming arrows was being fired towards us. We scrambled to get out of the line of fire. The soldiers had arrived.

We were surrounded. It was four against something like twenty to thirty angels. We had no choice but to fight, despite the odds. I quickly blasted and exploded some angels as the others used their blades to engage in combat. Using a bow and arrow dropped by one of the guards, I sniped at some soldiers who were chasing the _Nalkam._

I yelled at them to run through the gate just as I found that I ran out of arrows. I spotted another quiver full of arrows at a distance away, but a large horde of angels were rushing towards us. Gadreel noticed my predicament. "I'll hold them off. Go!" With him at my side, I ran towards the quiver while he engaged with the horde. Grabbing it and strapping it to my back, I flew up to get a better view of the scuffle. Other angels had come out into the open from the nearby buildings. Some of them joined Castiel in holding off the guards. The dividing lines became clear as Castiel's supporters were at his side whereas those on Raphael's fought alongside the guards. It was more than whatI had hoped for. It was open war.

I scanned the crowd for Balthazaar. Unable to stand clear of the fighting, he had no choice but to engage. He was in combat with three other guards. In no time, he had defeated them and looked around, in case anyone else came to attack. I hovered above him, aiming an arrow at him. He raised his arms in surrender and his mouth hung open in shock. Authentic or not, his expression was a useful one. Winking at him, I shot an arrow straight at him. He fell back from the impact, and winced in pain on the ground while I landed on the ground and approached him. "What the-"

"Shh. Just play along," I whispered. Using the angel blade I picked up from before, I stabbed him in the chest. With a bright flash of light, he died.

* * *

Balthazaar stood fazed in the armoury. "What the hell just happened?" he asked.

"You just died. Or rather, everyone thinks you did. You're welcome," I replied. I had created an illusion of him dying to fool everyone else.

"Okay, Hassiel did not mention this."

"Hassiel tells me he trusts you. Can I trust you too?" Balthazaar nodded. "Good. I'm gonna need you to steal the weapons that have been kept locked away in there and leave Heaven. Get to Earth and find a safe place to hide them. Wait for my instructions. With everyone thinking you're dead, no one will trace the stolen weapons back to you. Is that clear?"

"Sounds great." Balthazaar flashed me a smile. Hassiel soon found us. Briefly rummaging the drawers in his former office, he got back to us.

"Here are the keys." He handed them to Balthazaar. "We'll get back to the fighting to keep everyone distracted. Get out of here as fast as you can."

Castiel seemed to be preoccupied at the moment. "A little help here!" he yelled as he spotted us amidst the swinging and striking of his blade. The number of combatants had just gotten larger since we'd left. The noisy clashing of blades was a good cover for our unnoticed entry. Staying close to each other, Hassiel and I took out a good number of angels. Feeling my own blade in my hands, I felt more powerful than ever. My mind centred on my own body, controlling it smoothly and with precision, ruthlessly decimating the angels in my way. Angel grace and, at times, blood of the human vessels, flowed freely and cast a dark stain on the ground. With a child to protect, my blade showed no mercy and neither did my own hands. Soon enough, I caught sight of Balthazaar making his way towards the gate and successfully exiting Heaven.

As fast as was possible, I destroyed the angels Castiel and Hassiel were fighting and pulled them away from the commotion, urging them towards the gate. Seeing the opportunity, they fled. Their dash for the gate was timely because someone had activated the closing of the gates. The gap between the gates was slowly narrowing. I shot at the soldiers approaching them, giving them an uninhibited exit. "Call for Raphael!" one soldier yelled. Two soldiers made a break away from the conflict. _Oh no you don't._ At that moment, Gadreel was fighting a losing battle with a horde of angels, though he had held up nicely so far. Now I had to choose. Gadreel or the messengers. I had to make a quick decision. Seeing the soldiers getting out of my line of fire so quickly, I instinctively raised the bow to aim at them and took two shots. _Sorry, pal._ In those precious few moments, Gadreel was knocked off his feet and held tightly by the attackers, who promptly cuffed him. He struggled with his captors, plaintively calling out for me to help him.

I looked at the gate. Everyone else had escaped. The gap was becoming dangerously small. There was no time. Seeing that his violent struggle kept a number of soldiers busy, I flew as fast as I could towards the gate, returning to the warm embrace of the Earth's atmosphere. At last – freedom.


	26. The Demon Deal

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 26: The Demon Deal**

"This place is _beautiful._ How'd you get it?" Pahaliah caressed a rose, inhaling its sweet scent.

"It is a gift," I responded as I beckoned the house to open its doors telepathically. "Lucifer gave it to me before the battle." That answer seemed to have made them uneasy, Castiel most of all. "Please take off your footwear before you enter." I entered the house first, gently tapping a bell I had placed near the front door. Its resonating sound helped to centre one's mind and bring an atmosphere of peace and serenity to the house. The six of them took seats around the centre table while I went to the kitchen to make some cool hibiscus water.

"I don't understand. We're angels. We don't need to consume food and beverages." Castiel seemed genuinely confused when I set the big jug and a tray of glasses on the table. Everyone else either raised their eyebrows or chuckled at him. Come on, he was a soldier all his life. He was not habitualised to enjoying luxuries.

"We don't eat or drink because we need to, Castiel. We do it because we want to," Shemsiel raised a glass. He took a sip, letting out a moan as he savoured its taste. "This is too good. Try it, Cas." He passed a glass to Castiel, who hesitantly put it to his lip.

Castiel's eyes narrowed and his nose crinkled as he tried to put thoughts together. "It's just a mixture of chemicals."

"You're thinking too much about it. You're not supposed to break down the experience into its constituents. You should just enjoy it as a whole," Shemsiel supplemented. He then gave Castiel an encouraging smile. "You'll get there eventually."

"Alright," I began as I lounged comfortably on a couch. "Back to the matter at hand. As I understand it, Raphael is not officially the ruler of Heaven. That was Michael before, and he still needs the backing of all the angels to take the position, now that everyone knows that God isn't in Heaven. For us to win this civil war, we need to take a two-pronged approach: first, we need to gain the support of as many angels as we can, and then we need to eliminate Raphael's aides and disband his troops. Only then can we expect to win an all-out war."

"Shemsiel and I can do recon. Find out who Raphael's most valued players are and what their schedules are like," Dinah volunteered.

I nodded. "You guys do that. But do _not_ engage with them. I want you to strictly observe. You will report to Raziel and me, and then we will take them out."

"Then Pahaliah and I can help out Castiel with campaigning. We'll approach as many angels as we can and convince them to join our cause," Rahab spoke up.

"Good. Castiel, I'm counting on you to keep them safe. Don't reveal too much about our plans, and make sure you can trust the angels who want to join you." Castiel nodded in agreement. "I want all of you to check in with Raziel every week. I think it's safe to say that Raphael may be hunting us, so be safe and call me if there's an emergency. On a phone. Which Hassiel is supposed to be getting me right now. That's all I have to say for now. All of you are free to stay here for as long as you want."

* * *

I stood silently on the rooftop, observing the rows upon rows of flowers which gave the landscape a variety of colours. I had made the ground self-sustaining, so that they wouldn't need me to take care of them all the time. I would have to pick the flowers and fruits occasionally, though. I thought about my circumstances. I was released into this world, and it seemed so imperative that I fix what was wrong with the human race. The apocalypse was supposed to be a beginning for me, but the closer I got to the apocalypse, the more I realised I didn't want it. I didn't want Lucifer and Michael to fight. Killing his own brother would have been a devastating experience – I remembered what Gabriel's death had done to us. And now I was signing myself up readily to kill Raphael. No matter how much Raphael deserved it, he was still family. It was depressing to think that death was the only legacy my freedom would have. At least I had my son. He was safe now, within me, growing slowly with his human vessel. How would I explain to him the rivalry within his own family?

Hassiel arrived and stood behind me, breaking me away from my thoughts. "Sorry I'm late. Was picking up something for you." I turned around to face him. He reached into his pocket. "Here's that phone you asked for. I could show you how to use it."

I took it from him, inspecting its weight and appearance. "It's alright. Zara can help me with that." He raised his eyebrow in askance. "Zara is my vessel. She and I have an intimate relationship where we share thoughts with each other. Her insight helps me sometimes."

"Oh," Hassiel scanned my vessel curiously. "It's good that you take care of her like that." There was a small bird fountain at the centre of the rooftop where several birds lounged. Hassiel helped me add some food to wooden bird feeders that hung above the fountain. The birds chirped enthusiastically at the gesture. Some even perched gently on my shoulder and arm.I extended a warm wave of my energy towards them, welcoming them. They seemed to like it.

Hassiel seemed delighted at the sight of these delicate and beautiful creatures. "How have you been, Hass? What have you been doing since your escape?" I asked.

"Well, it was very lonely. I was on the run, with no one by my side. And then I found my vessel, a man much like myself – a weapon-maker. For millennia, I have been employed by many kings and rulers because of my craft. Although I was enthused at first, I soon realised that humanity was too bloodthirsty for its own good." He stared in silence as the fluttering of a crow created ripples in the fountain. "I tried to stop them. Tried to slow down their progress in making more advanced weapons. But there was only so much I could do without drawing too much attention to myself, and now this infant species has weapons capable of decimating their own planet!" I sensed disappointment in his voice.

"It's not your fault, Hassiel. The humans did not make good enough use of the gift we gave them. Perhaps there is still a way we can rectify their mistakes."

His eyes widened at the prospect. "What do you propose?"

"Suppose you could find these projects that the humans have been working on to develop weapons or discover things they are not supposed to. If you give me the details, I could investigate the threat and see what I can do to eliminate it." A couple of magpies descended on the fountain and squawked noisily. Blurs of red and blue appeared as the neighbouring birds flapped their wings and took off.

"That does sound like a good idea, but you will need to give me time to gather information. I haven't been active in reconnaissance lately. I've been wandering the lands as a photographer for the past forty or so years." His mouth curved into a one-sided smile at the thought.

"A photographer? You must show me your work sometime," I requested eagerly.

"For you, of course. With the baby, you'll definitely want to keep memories of his childhood using photos. That's one thing I learnt from humans. They love immortalising such memories."

"Well, there's still about five months left before that can happen. Let's just hope that the peace in Heaven is kept by then."

"Are you planning to raise your child in Heaven?"

The smile on my face slowly disappeared. I hadn't really thought about that. "One can only hope. Heaven is where we came from, and it only makes sense for the little one to grow up there around his own kind, but with the war, I'm afraid the company will be too hostile to raise a child. I may have to do this alone."

Hassiel placed both his hands on my shoulders. "You won't be alone. I'll be here, your team will be here. We'll all be supportive of you. My nephew will not grow up alone." My eyes welled up at the sentiment. Blinking the tears away, I put my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me for a hug. His arms enclosed me gently, being careful of the baby bump. Planting a kiss on his cheek, we parted.

* * *

The warm air wafted towards me as I entered Hell. The lights on the walls of the corridors illuminated my path as I made my way towards the throne room. It was time to meet Crowley. I donned a long, floral sundress with a cashmere scarf around my shoulders – as harmless a look as I could possibly pull off. I didn't even bring any weapons. The sound of several footsteps drew closer as I finally came to face a horde of demons. They stood in my way, ready to fight. "You are not welcome here," one of them announced.

I looked at her straight in her obsidian eyes. "I believe I have an appointment with the king."

"That she does," Crowley spoke up behind them. They parted, turning to face him. He sauntered towards me and took both my hands in his. "May I say, you look absolutely stunning today." He brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them sweetly.

"You are such a gentleman, O King," I gushed. _Damn, I've never even called Lucifer king before. But I have to keep up the pretense. I might actually be better at this than I knew._ Inside, I felt Zara blushing. For real. Great.

Crowley extended his elbow. "Shall we?" My hand resting in his elbow, he led me to the throne room. The hushed sounds of gossip erupted as we walked away from the demon horde. Crowley invited me to sit at a table. A servant soon brought us beverages. Crowley poured himself some scotch, and gave me a cup of what looked to be a smoothie. "Something healthy for the child, of course." _How thoughtful,_ I heard Zara say to me.

I took a gulp of the cool, creamy liquid. "It's an incredible feat – becoming king of Hell. How did you pull it off?"

"With Lucifer gone and Azazel dead, Hell has been in chaos. There was a power vacuum. I saw the opportunity, and I took it." Crowley shrugged and took a sip.

"Crafty, I like that," I complimented him. For me to get close to him, I would have to make him think I liked him. It was the only way I could get him to talk. "But still, for a lone demon like yourself to become king… there must have been something more. You didn't just wake up one day with the power of Hell backing you, right?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. Before I could say anything else to rectify any possible sign of deception that I might have given away, I noticed his eyes soften. He set his drink down and stood up, buttoning his coat. "I'd heard that you would be interested in the technicalities of things, but I didn't think I'd see that side of you so soon. Follow me, I have something to show you."

Intrigued, I followed him as he navigated through the hallways and stairs and stopped in the armoury. I glanced at the balcony. That was the exact spot where Lucifer and I shared conversations. Lucifer usually didn't allow demons this high up in the complex. It was his personal space. And now I was here… with Crowley. Fishing out a key from his pocket, he unlocked a door that led up to the rooftop. I remembered that Lucifer had it built long ago, but he rarely went up there and neither did I. As we stood on the rooftop, I recalled that the pinnacle of Heaven was where we first began the revolution – the pinnacle represented the height of power, and placing instruments of communication and power on the highest peak of civilisation represented control. It was likewise in Hell.

Crowley pointed a finger at a distant compound. "That's where the souls are kept. But their power feeds into Hell's command centre. Which happens to be here." He gestured towards a podium at the centre of the rooftop. A deep red orb floated above it, with several smaller, black, yellow and white spheres orbiting it. It resembled the one we had seen in Heaven. Of course, I should have guessed – this was how Crowley got enough power to become king. But there was still a piece of the puzzle missing. "You must be wondering how I was able to siphon its power. It's very simple, actually. With Lucifer locked up, the next in line for the throne, other than you, was supposed to be a Prince of Hell. Thing is, the Princes don't want anything to do with Hell, apparently. Ramiel just named me king, and I humbly accepted. The orb sensed the truth in my claim, and gave me its power."

What he said had come as quite a shock for me. I'd never understood the fondness that Lucifer had for the Princes, whom he had turned himself, especially since none of them returned the respect, aside from Azazel of course. It appeared that the Princes and I shared the natural aversion to power, which I would normally respect. In this situation, it seemed surprising that not even one of the remaining three stepped up to the throne anyway, out of duty. This was probably why Crowley was able to bypass the Princes and myself to get the throne. Except now, I had to become queen somehow.

"Something on your mind?" Crowley noticed my furrowed eyebrows. I could use this to my advantage.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that… when you mentioned the Princes of Hell, I remembered the time when Lucifer turned them. He spent so much time creating this kingdom and his demon army that he barely even spared time for me." I sighed, trying to look as forlorn as possible. "Even when I did so much for him…"

Crowley gave me a short, mirthless laugh."Like seducing me and putting a tracker in my pocket? You can drop the pretense. We all know where your loyalties lie." His gaze flickered between my abdomen and my eyes.

"You don't know what it's like to be his partner! When you've been in a relationship with someone for 13 billion years, things get stale. He got increasingly tired of me so… I did it to get his attention. Of course, it didn't work." I made my voice crack up. "That time we met you, it wasn't completely a pretense. Not on Zara's part, nor mine." I turned away, placing my hands on the ledge. Sure enough, Crowley approached next to me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He placed a comforting hand on mine.

"Now look at what he's done," I continued, tearing up. "He didn't even think to make me queen. After all I did!" A tear escaped my eye. Crowley instinctively used a thumb to wipe away the tear drop, resting his palm on my cheek. I let a silent moment pass. "If you really question my loyalties, consider why Lucifer is still in the cage and I've done absolutely nothing about it for all these months!"

Crowley rested his other palm on my other cheek, cupping my face as he stared deep into my eyes. "Lucifer clearly knows nothing about treating a lady with respect. Especially someone so precious like yourself…" he gently pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. "I do not intend to repeat his mistake." He leaned in and kissed me on the lips, slowly deepening the kiss as I reciprocated. His hands slowly drifted to my waist and held me in a tender embrace. I wanted to say I felt dirty – carrying Lucifer's child yet romancing his rival – but there was a hint of truth in what I told Crowley, and this moment was at least a little comforting. Nevertheless, it was a little too real. More real than I wanted it to be.

* * *

We were back in the throne room. The air of formality was restored, with several witnesses around. Still blushing, I turned conversation back to business. "So, Castiel tells me that you are trying to look for Purgatory."

"Did he now?" Crowley sipped on his scotch.

I sensed his apprehension about learning that his partner-in-crime had told another about their big plans. "It's alright. I'm helping him take down Raphael too. We're all on the same side, here, although he'd rather not be publicly associated with me. I'm sure you understand my position."

"Apparently so. If you don't mind my asking, what's in it for you?"

"Same as you, Crowley. With Raphael out, there will be a power vacuum, and I will rise to rule Heaven. Also, revenge."

"But the angels don't want to be ruled. Won't there just be another civil war?"

I grinned. "Well I won't call myself the ruler or anything, but angels are used to taking orders from archangels and with me on the frontlines of the war, they'll be looking for someone to thank and look up to. They'll allow me to rule them." I patted my tummy. "It's also not that difficult to score sympathy points with them. When they see the face of a cute little archangel son, they're practically gonna be begging me to raise him in Heaven just so they can eagerly watch him grow. An innocent newborn archangel with no corrupted motives will have a lot of sway over the angels and, by association, so will I."

Crowley's eyes widened and raised both his eyebrows in surprise. "That is… a wonderful plan." Bait – taken. Now for the hook.

"Imagine, Crowley. You, the king of Hell, and me, the ruler of Heaven. Together, we will be an unstoppable force."

He tilted his head back and, resting it on the spine of his chair, his eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I like the sound of that," he murmured. He looked back at me. "Using your own child as a political tool. I can get behind that."

I chuckled. "At least Lucifer gave me something of worth. Did you ever have kids of your own?"

"I had a son long ago. Little scamp didn't amount to anything. The only thing he did properly was die." Ouch. But Crowley was opening up. He must be beginning to trust me. "I'm presuming you want in on the Purgatory souls?"

I wanted to say no and humbly decline, but Crowley was a businessman. If I refused, he would wonder why I declined an offer anyone would accept. "You could say that. Anything to guarantee success…"

He nodded, setting down his drink. "I'm willing to cut you a portion. But what can you give me in return?"

"I can give you a partnership you won't regret. With me in Heaven, we can both control the flow of souls to Heaven and Hell, and we can keep the demons and angels out of each other's ways. You will also have the prestige of being the demon who took Lucifer's lover away from him, that too while she carried his child. I'm sure you'll enjoy the humiliation it'll give him and his followers."

"All tempting prospects," he replied. After a moment of contemplation and a quick glance at me, Crowley stood up and extended his hand. "We have a deal." I shook his hand, beaming outwardly.

We walked hand-in-hand towards the exit where demons were watching in anticipation. Although I never expected much from them, I still felt hurt from their betrayal of Lucifer. Time to let them have a taste of their own medicine. I kissed Crowley on the cheek in front of all the demons, eliciting shocked gasps and murmurs. As I turned to leave, Crowley maintained his grip on my hand and pulled me towards him. Kissing me once more on the lips, he said, "Do visit often."


	27. The Eye of Khaos

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Hey guys! So sorry it took me so long to update, life happened. But don't worry, you are not forgotten. I had a bit of a writing block but I am also on a writing binge right now so you can expect somewhat of regular posting until I get to the end of season 6. Please remember to drop a review and tell me what you think. It really goes a long way!

 **Chapter 27: The Eye of Khaos**

The sound of human conversation was a constant rumble in the background. It was a stark contrast to my normal setting: a quiet house in the middle of nowhere, the more comforting noises being those of birds chirping and plants growing. Yet this was a necessary change in environment, and only one reason justified my unorthodox visit to a centre of human population – a craving for strawberry cheesecake. _Dammit, Zara._ I didn't blame my vessel for this; she and I were pregnant, together. It was just unfortunate that I had to give in to her taste buds. There was a lot about being pregnant that was new, from the occasional loss of powers, to the giddiness, the nausea, the emotions, and most recently, the food cravings.

"Would you like anything else, ma'am?" a blonde waitress asked.

"I'll also have the avocado milkshake. And some pancakes while you're at it." Just a little more wouldn't hurt. The purpose of my visit to this roadside diner also extended to a meeting. My guest was taking a bit longer than expected, but he showed up when I began my milkshake.

"Sorry I'm late, there was a personal emergency." Hassiel's gaze flickered hesitantly.

"Are you alright?" I leaned forward in my chair, paying close attention.

"Yeah, it's not me. It's…" More hesitation. "I have kids."

I almost choked on my drink. "You do?" I tried my best to keep a neutral expression, but I had so many questions. "Who's the lucky angel?"

"Human, actually." When I didn't speak, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not judging you," I reassured him. "It's… your choice. So, nephilim children?"

"Sarah-Jane and Joseph. Sarah's twenty years old and Joseph's ten." He showed me pictures on his phone. Sarah had auburn hair with green eyes and the dimpled cheeks of a sweet young girl. Joseph took after his father, the brown hair and blue eyes evidence of the resemblance. I'd heard that the _Grigori_ had procreated with the humans some time after the fall and that God sent for the nephilim to be killed. What was I doing at the time? Right, distracting myself from the heat of Hellfire with the search for the fragments, and alienating myself from Lucifer. A pang of disappointment gnawed at me for being so cut off from everyone else, but now I had my chance to be more concerned about my angel family. And Hass was my friend. I respected his judgment.

"Cute kids. When can I meet them?" I smiled. He sighed in relief, returning the gesture.

"Well… that was the emergency. Sarah-Jane wants to leave. Build a life for herself. Go to UCLA, get a job, blend in with the humans." He rested his face on a hand, propping an elbow on the table.

"And?"

"And it's dangerous! She's a nephil, and you know how Heaven feels about them. What if they try to kill her? She's safer with me. And Joseph will miss her. Does she really need to go that far?" Another sigh, but in dismay.

"Sounds like you're afraid of letting go. There comes a point in every parent's life when they have to let their children go, be themselves…" I paused. I thought about my son. He would grow up. He would throw fits, want to break away, be his own archangel. I would have to stop being motherly. I already felt concerned about letting go of a child I hadn't even birthed yet. "Your daughter is a human soul powered by angel grace. It doesn't get stronger than that. I'm sure she can hold her own in a fight. Did you train her?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then you don't have to be afraid. Unless you're just worried you'll miss her."

"There's no avoiding that, or her impulse to roam free in the world." Hass seemed pretty upset. It was understandable.

"I suppose that at some point, you'll just have to trust that she'll be okay, Hass. Either way, I'm here if you, or any of your kids need anything." I dug into the pancakes. "How's Balthazaar doing with the weapons?"

"He has them safe. I check on him every week or so. What should we do with them?"

"Just keep them safe until we need them."

"How are we doing on the Purgatory front?"

"There's been a bit of a detour. I'm trying to infiltrate Crowley's Hell and find out his plan so that I can put an end to it once and for all."

"Why, though? Can't you just kill him and take the throne?"

"All good questions. Thing is, having a child isn't very conducive for power-grabbing moves like that, apparently. My powers experience temporary lapses sometimes, so they're unreliable for a battle. I could try and hope for the best, but should I really take the chance?"

"I see. How is it working out?"

"Crowley seems to trust me." I stirred the foam on the surface of my milkshake with a straw. "On an unrelated note, do you know how I could open the cage?"

"Let me think…" he stroked his chin, his thoughtful eyes wandering into the distance in contemplation. "The only ways known to open the cage are the 66 seals and the horsemen's rings. Lilith is already dead, so the 66 seals can't be used again. The horsemen's rings, well, you'd have to find them and I suspect that Death can't be kept away from his."

I could ask Death for a favour, but then again he doesn't like Lucifer that much. And I didn't think that fluttering my eyelids was going to convince him. "Are there ways that are _unknown_?"

Hassiel gulped. "I've only heard rumours…"

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath. "In ancient Mesopotamia, it was said that a Sumerian nun hid herself away in a cave after having 'visions of Darkness'. She devoted her whole life to figuring out the dark mysteries of curses, which could include opening the cage. Her grimoire, the _Book of the Damned_ , is lost to time, and the fact of its truth unknown."

It was worth a try. But where would I begin? That would take a while to figure out. For now, I had to stick to the original plan and do this on my own time. "I'll look into it. Thank you for your help." I got up to leave.

Hassiel handed me a large brown envelope. "This is regarding that _other matter_ that we talked about." I nodded, and we parted ways.

* * *

Light streamed from a window into my study, a room configured so similarly to my former home in Heaven that Lucifer must have thought that I would miss home. I used a silver letter opener to cleanly through the seal and pulled out a report – Hassiel had gotten me a case of humans discovering dangerous knowledge. A top-secret government research facility, investigating the properties of anti-matter. It had advanced well beyond what was expected from the scientific establishments in this day and age, and was operating under the utmost levels of security and secrecy. The scientists were getting close to a breakthrough, which meant that they were about to violate the laws of the universe. Matter and anti-matter were never supposed to coexist in the same universe, me being the only exception since God had stabilised me before I could harm anything or anyone or be harmed.

This would be a start in my quest to engineer a shift in human civilisation. Destroy their work on subjects they don't understand enough to use safely, and then make them dependent on me for their advancement. I liked the sound of that. Anyway, this was my duty – to keep information such as this from getting into the wrong hands.

 _Trespassers will be prosecuted,_ read a sign on the wired fence. Today, I will prosecute them for trespassing the laws of the universe. Cameras were everywhere, though the path to the actual facility was surrounded by trees, a convincing cover from human eyes. The building was four floors high, but any angel could tell that the actual work was being done underground since the air pressure on the surface of the earth would not be high enough for experimental work to be done with anti-matter. Eight floors underground, I found the laboratories.

Scientists whizzed about in lab coats. Several rooms with peculiar machinery were inhabited by them. Whiteboards were full of theoretical calculations. At the end of the hallway, there was one giant lab and that's where I found it – a makeshift portal. They'd been feeding the machine that made up the frame of the portal neutrinos and photons in an attempt to get them to join back into anti-matter, a move that could tear a hole in space and time. The scientists had donned hazmat suits in this lab, a precautionary measure due to the ionising gamma radiation that could be emitted. I observed invisibly for a while, curious as to how they went about their experiments.

"Test number 41. Load up the emitters," ordered one scientist. A loud 'whoosh' sounded, followed by a low rumble. Lights fixed around the portal flickered, an indication that the equipment was working correctly. The rumble increased in its volume, and with a deafening _crack_ a fracture appeared on the wall. This must have been unexpected, because the scientists began throwing up their hands and celebrating. Was it me? Did my coming here increase their odds of making progress? I did have anti-matter essence, an unkind reminder of my place in this universe.

"Test number 42. Crank up the emitters by 20%." I had to do something. I went over to the emitters, two large machines placed side by side with large keyboards and a myriad of buttons, each with corresponding lights. I placed my hands on them, trying to overload them. The machines vibrated with an abnormal frequency, causing the scientists to back off in alarm while sparks flew. _Any time now…_ I was waiting for the whole contraption to meet a violent end. Sirens blared. Humans panicked. The lights turned into an ominous shade of red. The humans were beginning to evacuate into a safe observational area, unwilling to leave with their lives even when faced with a possibly fatal sign of the paranormal. It left more fun for me. The rumble appeared again and this time it diffused with an even louder crack, practically blowing up the part of the wall confined by the portal.

A dark void appeared. To the humans, it would appear as though wind was blowing out from the portal, when in fact the motive force extended both inwards and outwards of the portal. Did they really do it? Did they open up a portal to the anti-matter universe? I had to see for myself. With a hand nervously extended outwards, I approached the portal. If this was really what I thought it was, I would see a place I tried so hard to put out of my memory since the beginning of time. My heart raced at suggestions of what I might find. Did I really want to know? Images floated in my mind of torture and pain. I felt myself growing weak. My hand froze inches away from the void. I hadn't even noticed my own heavy breathing until then.

The surface of the portal was shiny and ripples formed on it, like water. I saw my own reflection, distorted by the regularly-occurring waves. It looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on where I'd seen this texture before. As I stared into the deep abyss of the void, what I could have sworn were eyes became bigger and bigger. That's when I recognised the shape of a figure, not growing larger but in fact coming towards me, at a speed that was even unknown to me. I staggered backwards, a gasp escaping my lips. The figure walked through the void, a shiny black substance coating its form. _What the hell are you?_

Even after exiting the portal, the figure continued towards me. I took another step back, finding that there was a lower platform behind me a bit too late. I felt myself falling backwards and closing my eyes to wait for the impact. But it never came. My hands held onto something solid. Something that held me back. The hands gently pulled me back onto my feet. Confused, I opened my eyes and observed the figure before me. 'It' was a genderless being, with the universal form shared by humans and angels alike, and it was composed of a black substance. "Be careful, don't want to hurt the baby, do you?" It spoke, its voice a distorted murmur.

"Who are you?"

"Don't recognise me in this form?" I said nothing. "Khaos."

"This-This is you?" I stammered. "You looked really different the last time."

"I have no form, no gender to speak of. This is merely an emanation of the fabric that I am, a representation to communicate with you."

"W-What are you doing here?"

"Same reason as you. Taking dangerous toys out of the hands of an infant." Something resembling a smile appeared on its face.

"How did you know why I'm here?"

"Oh dear Sophia…" It began. "We are intimately connected in a way that cannot be described. It is no mere coincidence that we are both here." It gestured towards the curious humans. "Shall we?"

I allowed Khaos to take the lead, still taken aback by this meeting. Khaos smashed the glass that separated the observation room and the lab. Humans screamed. Long filamentous appendages extended from Khaos' form and impaled the humans, causing instantaneous death. Some humans scrambled for the door, hands shaking as they unlocked the door and ran through the hallway. Khaos placed a foot on a dead human and turned to me. "Well, don't just stand there."

I appeared before the sprinting humans, abruptly halting their escape. More screams ensued as I grabbed one of them by the neck and twisted it. I drove my hand through a woman and exploded another. Just as I turned to look for more victims, I felt a tingle at the back of my head. I turned around slowly. The frightened man dropped the fire extinguisher, hands shaking like leaves. The look of despair on his face was pathetic as I reached into his chest and pulled out his heart, feeling blood spurt all over me. This got messier than I'd expected.

A sudden _bang_ caused me to jump. It was unlike any kind of sound I had known – louder, deeper, and again with the distortion. Then another _bang_ followed. This went on and on for a while. I traversed back down the hallway towards the noise. The sounds alternated between the left and right sides of the hallway, possibly coming from the various rooms on this floor. Then, silence. The air was still. Like a phantom, Khaos appeared again before me. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Pfft… I wasn't startled." I'm an archangel, a mighty force of Heaven. I do not get startled.

"Right." It paused. "The humans have been taken care of. Their files destroyed. The capacity for reaching this information stunted to last at least a few millennia. Your work here is done. Though I must say, it must be annoying to have such minute creatures pose a threat to the whole universe in such a manner."

"Woah, woah, hold on a minute. I'm just supposed to take your word for it? Show me."

It stared blankly at me. Or I thought it did. I couldn't make out an expression. Had I offended it? Before I could react, it grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, bringing me to a room. Scorch marks lined the walls and the floor, some in the shape of humans. Clumps of charred remains were melded to equally burnt had set off a mini-explosion in each room, destroying everyone and everything in its way. But that wasn't all. I tuned my senses to look for information wavelength and… nothing. Not a wave of knowledge flowed here. It was practically an information vacuum. This kind of destruction made me uncomfortable. Only time could heal such a location.

"Do you believe me now?"

I nodded. I watched as a hole opened up in Khaos' eye socket, and a white crystal appeared. It plucked it out of its form, and handed it to me. "What is that?"

"This is a crystal I fashioned for you. It contains all the souls of the humans we just killed. You may use it to power yourself. Take it as a gift."

I held the crystal in my palm. It had a round shape, with a black ovular colour in the centre, resembling an eye. "Why are you giving me this?"

"You _do_ need souls, don't you?" It didn't wait for my answer. "It's just a show of good faith for what's to come. I hope you remember your debt to me, Sophia."

"I remember that you want something of me, but I don't understand what you think I owe you or why."

Its obsidian hands took mine as it led me back to the hallway. Its skin felt like nothing – neither hot nor cold, neither smooth nor rough. Really, I had no words to describe it. It was everything at once. "There is a reason to this… confusion."

"What confusion?"

"The confusion that is your past, your present and your future. It is a tale as old as time. A secret unknown to even God and Amara. An unanswerable question. I suppose the first step to understanding it is to understand yourself, which you are not destined to do at this point in time."

I rolled my eyes. I was getting impatient. "Time is relative."

"It truly is. Events in time are relative to one another. As are truths that you seek. I advise you to be patient, and all will be revealed. Just have faith in me. It has always worked for you."

"Always? But I've only just met you."

" _You_ have, but _you_ aren't the only you. I've known you for a long time, Sophia, and every single time certain things about you have been constant. Your flair for wisdom and guidance, your capacity for love, and your equal capacity for destruction."

What it said seemed so far from my understanding. I guess the only way to find out more was to play along. "And in all those times, I've been indebted to you?"

"In one way or another, yes."

"Have I ever refused to fulfil this debt?"

"Yes, a few times."

"And what happened?"

"Everything died." A chill spread across my chest. We both remained silent as we headed back to the portal, which was still open. My initial question resurfaced to mind.

"Does that lead to the antimatter universe?"

Its hand paused, halfway through the portal already, as it turned to me for one last time. "That would be too easy. And dangerous. This is the wall that separates both universes. It is the void in which I reside."

* * *

What the hell just happened? I looked at the crystal –the _Eye of Khaos_. I felt the power of the souls within it pulsing in my hand, aching to be released. I ran my thumb over the black spot in the centre. With a low, resonant hum, the Eye glowed. Like a touch of lightning, I felt the souls flow through me, energising me. Oh, I felt the power. It was intoxicating. But then, the feeling began to fade. _Wha-What's happening?_ The feeling of souls faded as soon as it appeared. I concentrated on the feeling, trying hard to hold on to it. It wasn't flowing away from me – it remained within me. It just wasn't powering _my_ essence. With a bit of inference, I figured what was stealing my soul-power away from me. Or rather who. "We could at least share, son." I sighed.

At least now I had a way of harvesting souls. Time to go on a mass murder spree? Wouldn't be very conducive for staying low-profile and out of Raphael's radar. But this was a start. Maybe now Castiel will give up on Purgatory. Sometimes I find myself thinking that it would be easier to just explode the guy, but apparently Lucifer pulled the same thing and 'God brought him back'. Who was I to mess with God's executive decision? Wait, that's why I fell. Even then, Castiel was the poster child for this war. Without him, there wouldn't be a war to begin with. So I'd still have to work on convincing him that I had a better option. Partnerships suck.


	28. The New Approach

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This episode follows The Third Man, S6E3, when Balthazaar is selling pieces of the Staff of Moses for souls and Castiel is tracking him down.

 **Chapter 28: The New Approach**

So this was it. The cage. I couldn't believe I'd never been down here myself. The last I'd seen this awful thing was… ages ago. There was a barred window on the top half of one wall of the cage. Peering through it, I saw nothing but I could feel them – the darkness, the madness of two archangels worsened only by the guilt-inducing sulfurous fire this deep in the crevices of Hell. This brought back memories of my own vault, where life-sucking creatures that I could not identify fed on me, immortalising a painful dying moment until my eventual release. Uncertain of what I would find, I held onto one of the bars. Amidstthe dark wisps of smoke inside the cage, scarlet eyes emerged to meet me. He laid his glowing hands over mine eagerly.

"You came…" Lucifer placed his lips on my knuckles, his cold kiss a refreshing change from the heat of Hell.

"Are you alright?" I reached through the bars to stroke his hair. He pressed my hand to his cheek, savouring our physical connection. Oh, how I missed him.

"I've been here long enough to get used to it…" My heart sank. "I thought about what you said. And I get it, you have to do what you have to do." He reached through the bars, stroking my tummy. "As long as junior here is safe. Ah, he feels strong. What did you give him?"

"He's had a binge of souls recently." The scarlet eyes narrowed, waiting for me to explain. "I've been looking to power myself up with souls for the war in Heaven, but it seems like your son is stealing my juice."

"Oh, so he's _my_ son when he does something you don't like?" Lucifer teased. "Maybe it's best to wait till after he's out for that."

"Yeah, I'm realising that, but with the war going on, who knows when we'll _really_ need to be ready?"

"Hmm…" He paused to think. "Tell me more about this war."

"Long story short, everyone knows now that God isn't in Heaven. Raphael wants to restart the apocalypse and the angels don't want that, or to be ruled by Raphael, so there's conflict. And guess what, Castiel is leading the resistance and he freed me from Heaven's prison so I'm somewhat indebted to him."

"Castiel, huh?"

"I can't say I like the circumstances but we live in desperate times."

"There are enough souls in Hell. You could take those."

I sighed. This was going to be the difficult part. "I wish I could, but the throne is… occupied."

"So I hear… but what's the problem? Kick him _out._ "

"I can't. Not yet."

His head tilted. "Why not?"

"Having this child, it's messing with my powers. I don't know if I'm up for a battle with Crowley and his supporters. And it was your stupid orb that let him take its power anyway. Can't you have a better system for these kinds of things?" I must have sounded exasperated.

He sighed. "Babe, you're thinking too much about this. There's no need for all that. This throne is your _right._ No demon can get in the way of that. You are more powerful than he can _ever_ be. And the other demons will recognise that." He brandished a tiny glowing vial. The vial of my essence that I'd given him before. "If this thing works both ways, know that you can always count on me for power. So just end him and do what you need to do."

That was nice of him to say. I should have known that I could have relied on him for strength and support, and I sincerely hoped I could have as much faith in demons as he did. _It's just like me to think of doing everything on my own, isn't it?_ Now it was a new era, one of opportunities, and I planned to use as many of them as possible. I beamed outwardly. "Okay. Alright, I'll do as you say. But I'll still have to wait. Castiel's working with Crowley to open the gates of Purgatory."

"Leviathans are dangerous business."

"Tell me about it. Crowley's behind it all and I'm trying to end his plan. As long as he's on the throne, I can keep an eye on him and find out what he's up to."

"How are you going to do that?"

I told him about my way with Crowley, how I seduced him to think that I would be on his side and do as he wanted. When I finished, Lucifer remained silent. "I know it seems silly, but it's more fun than it sounds."

He smirked. "Deception is your game. Play it as you will. But make sure that everyone sees you crushing the life out of him."

"Of course." I traced the back of his hand with my fingers as I peered into the cage. A faint blue glow could be seen in a distant corner. "Is that Sam Winchester over there?"

"It is, although I thought I could enjoy the company of my new toy a little longer."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know?" I shook my head in response. "Castiel popped by earlier. He busted Sam's body out and left his soul behind, without so much of a hello. Now I'm starting to think that you should be wary of him…"

Hm. What was Castiel's interest in resurrecting Sam? And that too without a soul? "When did this happen?"

"I'm guessing the same day that Michael and I were trapped here."

 _Son of a bitch._ All that time and Castiel failed to mention this. Was he planning something behind my back? "A soulless body can still roam the Earth without raising suspicion for a good amount of time. But as long as Sam's soul remains here, I want you to make him _pay_ for what he did to us."

Lucifer produced a sly grin. "Your wish is my command, _madame._ " His finger caressed my cheek, resting on my chin. "You be careful out there, alright? Don't take any chances with anyone who is suspicious."

I nodded. Entwining his fingers with my own, I kissed his hand as he did mine. A wave of hope washed over me. We would be together again, soon – I would make sure of it. And then all would be right in the world again. "I'll get you out of here, Luci. I promise."

What he said energised me. I felt invigorated and ready to wipe out any and all obstacles in my way. Maybe I _could_ use a change of approach. A harsher, more direct approach like one Lucifer would take. I had never been so motivated to take over Hell. If I was to become the Queen of Hell, I had to be like him. I really didn't need Crowley alive. I could just kill him now. Aside from the fact that I didn't know how much of his plan to reach Purgatory was already set in motion, I was still stronger and with Lucifer's help, I could wipe him out. Whatever remained of his plan would just surface on its own, right?

* * *

It was time to check in on Crowley. I froze as soon as I pushed open the doors and entered the throne room. There was no one here. This was odd. I took a few steps forward. The sound of the doors swiftly closing shut stopped my advance. I spun to face Crowley, a smug grin on his face and several demons standing behind him.

"Came to see me, darling?" He greeted. With a snap of his fingers, a ring of holy fireerupted around me.

Alarmed, I gave him a look of stern disapproval. "What are you doing?"

"I knew it couldn't be _this_ easy to get an archangel on my side, though your little sob story was very compelling." His expression contorted into one of calculated fury. "But then I overheard your little conversation at the Cage and I knew for sure what your game was. You thought you could play _me?_ I'm Crowley. And you're not going anywhere."

"You know, it's rude to eavesdrop." I studied his expression. He was serious. _Oh well, that didn't last very long._ I guess it's time to do this the more direct way. I chuckled. "It's cute that you think you can control me!" I retorted and folded my arms. "This should show everyone how much of a _poser_ you really are, Crowley. Pretence is no substitute for real power."

"I'm sure the hundreds of thousands of souls I have at my disposal can show you what real power is," he taunted.

"Look at all of you…" I addressed the demons. "It's pathetic that _he_ is the closest thing to a ruler you have. You deserve better!" I saw some of their faces light up at the suggestion. My persuasion was alreadyworking. "You think I can't squash him? And when I'm done with him, what do you think will become of you who betrayed your true King? For _this_?" My voice grew menacing as I spoke, my intentions being to frighten them into submission. Such small creatures they were, that they would bow down to anyone with a little bit of firepower. It all came down to who was mightier and morepowerful in the end. "You don't have to take my word for it either. I'll show all of you that I'm worthy of your loyalty and when I'm done, we'll reclaim Hell for what it should be!"

"Nice speech, but I'd like to see you try and get out of that holy fire," Crowley spat out desperately, seeing that the demons shifted uncomfortably.

I wasn't yet sure how I was about to achieve that, but to my luck, the fire began to die down. Must have been some low-grade holy oil, or someone purposefully tampered with it. Didn't matter anyway. Crowley grew increasingly panicked as the flames dissipated. I stepped over the circle and approached him. "Oh would you look at that," I remarked. He seemed to shrink back in fear, his body tilting ever so slightly, yet he attempted to keep up his brave demeanour. His eyes followed the movement of my hand as I raised it slowly, giving the impression that I would hurt him. I then gingerly placed it on his shoulder, wiping off the dust. "I'll see you soon," I promised, as I winked and left.

* * *

My phone buzzed. The screen said it was _Raziel._ "Hello?" I picked up.

" _We may have a lead on one of Raphael's aides."_

"That was… quick."

" _Dinah just spotted Sariel in Easter, Pennsylvania, and it seems like he'll be there a while."_

"What do you mean?"

" _It appears Sariel has been tracking some lost weapons from Heaven's armoury."_ Wait a second. He can't possibly be referring to… _"Brace yourself, because this is about to get strange. It seems that the Staff of Moses is being used and Raphael has sent Sariel to retrieve them. I have no explanations to offer, unfortunately."_ I do. I asked Balthazaar to stow the weapons away safely, but he didn't do his job so now Raphael's tracked one of them. Why is it so hard to find good help these days?

"I'll be there."

" _Alright, I'll call you again once I've reached there."_

"Oh um it's alright, Raziel. I can handle this on my own." I had to keep the issue of the stolen weapons a secret still, even from my own team. I couldn't have him find out that I was the one who had ordered them to be stolen.

" _Are you sure? We might cover more distance as a pair."_

"It's just one small city. I'll get back to you once I'm done."

I flew over the city, once again greeted by the smell of car fumes and petrichor. A faint sign of angel presence caught my attention so I slowed down and took to the streets. There were several tall buildings, but one hotel with a yellow exterior seemed peculiar. My instincts were piqued and I stopped to stare at it. Out of the blue, two angels broke through the window on a high floor and plummeted to the ground, wrapped in a wrestling embrace. I held my breath as I identified them. The ear-piercing sound of a car alarm rang through the air as the angels landed on a grey car roof **.** Sariel and Castiel got up uncomfortably.

This wasn't the time to question Castiel's presence. I rushed forward, hoping to get a grip on Raphael's lackey while still remaining invisible to the both of them. But I was too late. Now I was just left with Castiel, whose gaze turned skyward to the two curious Winchesters looking on at the spectacle below them through a broken window. So that's why he's here. But I still needed an explanation. I followed him up to the room they were in.

"He's gone," Castiel reassured them.

"Alright, Cas, who was that guy?" Sam questioned. I tilted my head slightly. It was an interesting sight, to see him without his soul. Just an empty vessel. I wondered if Dean knew. Surely, Castiel had to know.

"A soldier of Raphael. He must have followed me when I answered your call." Castiel rummaged through the cupboards in search of something.

"Raphael? The archangel? I'm sorry, what's going on here?" Sam and Dean exchanged quizzical expressions. _They didn't know._ So Castiel wasn't using them as tools to get to Purgatory. Or at least, to their knowledge.

Castiel retrieved a bowl and set it on the table. "I can explain later. Right now we have to-"

"No, not later. Now. Stop, all right? Too many angels, Cas! I don't know who's on first, what's on second." Dean held up his hand to stop Castiel from moving about. Dean's eyes looked at him with confusion. They were a light apple green, much like my own in my true form. I liked how they looked. Sam's were a darker green, and were partially concealed by his narrowed eyelids and frown-riddled expression.

"What _is_ "second"?" Castiel responded, challenging Dean's stare with a look of his own.

"Don't start that."

"It is simple: Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. I – and many others – the _last_ thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic," Castiel explained.

"You're talking civil war," Sam summarized. _Finally, they're catching up. This back-and-forth is getting boring._

"Technically, yes. Which is why we have to find Balthazaar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war." So he knows about Balthazaar. That was all I needed. I had to go and deal with Balthazaar before Castiel and his pets did.

The sun was beginning to set when I arrived. _This_ was the location Hassiel gave me? This lavish mansion? I would have thought something more low-profile would have gotten the job done but clearly, Balthazaar wasn't thinking that far ahead. My heels clanked on the wooden floor as I entered a large room with minimal furniture near the walls. Classical music played in the background. Paintings hung on the walls. Balthazaar moved to the rhythm of Handel's _Sarabande._ "Ah, Sophia. Thought you'd call before dropping in," his polished British accent greeted me. He ceased his waltz and sauntered lazily to a table, where he poured himself some alcohol.

I crossed my arms. "What happened to the weapons?"

"They're safe, mostly," he nonchalantly replied.

"Mostly?"

"I _may_ have embarked on a business venture using the Staff of Moses."

"And you're just telling me this _now_?"

"Relax, it's just the Staff of Moses. It only hurts humans. Angels, maybe?" He took a sip of his drink.

"You're really testing my patience." I advanced towards him, arms ready to slap some sense into him.

He held his arms up defensively and backed up. "I did it to help you, I swear!" I stopped, giving him time to elaborate. "I broke it into pieces and sold it to vulnerable humans in exchange for their souls. See, I know you want the souls too."

"Right, so you expect me to believe you've been pawning the Staff without telling me just so that you can get souls… for me?"

"Look, I just wanted to have something to show for my ideas, and I do. We're still on the same side here." His shoulders relaxed.

"Are we? Because it seems more like you just want to be free to do what you want, without a care in the world for consequences!" Frankly, I understood the impulse, but giving away powerful weapons to humans was beyond stupid. I was trying to stop exactly that not too long ago. "We can't have this. Not right now, when Raphael can track you down."

"I'm sure we can find some kind of agreeable arrangement," he tried to negotiate.

What would Lucifer have done? He would smite anyone who didn't obey him or made mistakes. But Hassiel recommended me to trust Balthazaar. This could have been an honest mistake. After all, he was acting on the principle of freedom and did intend to harvest souls, which I could certainly approve of. I had no reason to think he was lying either, since he was in possession of the weapons and could easily threaten me with them, though he didn't. Ah well, I could turn this into my favour. "You will be getting visitors soon. When Castiel arrives, you will make no mention to him that I ordered you to steal the weapons or helped you fake your death. As far as he's concerned, you're here on your own accord with the stolen weapons. I want you to get close to him and help me keep an eye on him. Can you do that?"

He looked concerned. "Is he in trouble?"

"Not currently. But if you notice anything unusual, you _will_ tell me immediately. No hesitation."

He nodded. For a moment, his eyes widened as they looked past me. I spun around immediately and found myself facing my target, Sariel. I seemed to be getting lucky a lot lately. Sariel gasped. "The both of you working together? We should have guessed." He brandished his blade and stormed towards me. Instinctively, I extended an arm and pushed him against the wall. Balthazaar rushed to my side with what seemed like another piece of the Staff of Moses. As he utilised its power, Sariel doubled over. I watched on with curiosity as a bulge emerged on his throat and something crawled out. With great difficulty, Sariel managed to spit out a frog. He keeled over again, clutching his abdomen in pain. Eventually the pain won and his groans died along with him as he squirmed uncomfortably on the ground.

"Well now we know. It _does_ work on angels," Balthazaar concluded with a chuckle.


	29. The Throne

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 29: The Throne**

The souls floated around energetically, finally released from their flesh prisons. I held out the crystal, the Eye of Khaos, absorbing the souls as they escaped the dead. It was a bright sunny day in Philadelphia. A good day for photosynthesis. The tree was strong and so were its branches. They could take the weight of the bodies hung on them like vines. The only sounds were the squeaking of the ropes that were wrung around the necks of these humans as they dangled in the wind. I didn't choose my victims randomly. Their souls were marked by Hell, as they had made deals with demons and were destined to go to Hell after death (not anymore). They were mine now. Now for one final touch. I took out my blade and scratched a sigil onto its bark – my sigil. A mark of my territory, if you will.

This wasn't the only tree of death I had created. I went hard at work to do more of these all over the country, making almost one for every state. And Crowley couldn't do anything to stop it till it was too late. I intended to expand my work to other parts of the world too, though I had other plans for certain regions. Recently, Mauritania, one country of many in the African continent to suffer from drought and famine, saw an appearance of healthy crops and trees along with a freshwater lake in a small town called Ouadane. The price? You know the answer. It didn't take much to convince them – people are superstitious in that part of the world and all I had to do was show a glimpse of my angelic powers. Don't say I never did anything for humans.

That was four thousand souls, counting the hundreds my beautiful trees collected. I couldn't go all out and do more extravagant things to get more souls, what with Raphael hunting me and all. I needed to keep a low profile yet send a message to those who needed to hear it – Crowley and his supporters. The army of demons now stood before me as I finished the tree in Philadelphia, their expectant eyes waiting for me to address them. "Do you believe me now?" I began. "I was there when your species was created. And I am here now, to lead you to greatness." Their faces lit up excitedly.

Together, we marched forward into Hell, the demons in front of me. They slashed and killed every remaining Crowley supporter who came to fight, paving the way for me to reach the throne room. I pushed open the doors. It was empty but for one demon, standing with his back towards me. He wore a black suit, and I recognised it to be Crowley from his frame. Eagerly, I directed force with a finger to push him to the ground. He fell, stumbling to his knees and turned to face me. Wait a second. This wasn't Crowley. He had his face, his likeness, but it wasn't him. It was a decoy. The creature held his hands up defensively. "I'm just a shapeshifter! Please have mercy!" he begged. He peeked beyond his held-up hands to see my expression.

I threw my head back and laughed. Crowley had fled! I didn't even need to confront him. I stepped over the shapeshifter and took a seat on the throne, running my hands along the armrests. So this is how it feels, huh? I'd been so used to seeing Lucifer on the throne that I'd never considered to sit on it myself. Now I regretted not taking up his offer seriously and staying in Hell to be Queen. It had a nice ring to it too – Queen of Hell. The demon crowd shifted and produced a few tied up demons, who were forced to their knees before me.

"Your majesty, these are the last of his closest supporters that we could find here. Would you like to deal with them personally?" one demon spoke up.

The bound demons looked distraught. "Please, we'll do anything!" one of them pleaded.

"Well you should have done something when Crowley tried to take the throne!" I yelled. "Look what your _King_ has done to you. He ditched you and left some shapeshifter to take his place. He left you out in the cold!" I snapped my fingers, exploding the shapeshifter. "Anyone else think of betraying Lucifer or me, that's what's gonna happen," I decreed. Sauntering over to the demons on their knees, I brandished my blade. I took my time, savouring every cut and stab. When I was done, the floor was a bloody mess. It felt great to be queen.

Castiel picked up almost immediately. _"Sophia?"_ his gruff, monotonous voice said.

"That's _Queen_ Sophia for you." I leaned comfortably against an armrest. I had the throne room cleared and the demons getting back to work. Their first order of business was to find me Crowley. I wasn't going to let that worm slip out of my fingers. "I promised you the souls in Hell, didn't I? I'm holding up my end of the bargain, and I trust you'll do the same?"

There was a pause. _"Yes, of course."_

"Good. There will be no more talk of Purgatory," I ordered, and cut the call. I heaved a sigh of relief, the first in a long time. _This throne will be yours too someday,_ I told my son as I placed a hand on my tummy and felt his regular kicking. Any time now, he'll be due and I'll glance his serene face for the first time. Everything seemed to be going relatively well. Finally.

* * *

(Castiel POV)

He stared for a moment at the phone as the call ended. Sophia now had the power of the souls in Hell, and was willing to offer it to him.

"Purgatory's bigger, mate," the British voice called over, as the demon poured himself some whiskey. "I can still get you to the mucky gates."

"I know," Castiel replied. He could kill Crowley and abandon Purgatory for the souls in Hell to finish the war in Heaven with Sophia, or he could get to Purgatory anyway, and eliminate two archangels in one go. After all, it seemed shady that Sophia wanted nothing more than to rid Heaven of Raphael. What if she wanted to rule instead? And with an archangel son on the way, she and Lucifer would be unstoppable. That could be a worse fate. _Power should be with the angels,_ he thought. _No archangels, no leaders._ What if… he could have souls from both Sophia and Crowley? "There will be no change in plans, as far as Purgatory is concerned."

"I knew you'd make the right call," Crowley grinned. He was counting on Castiel's greed. When they got Purgatory open, they would split the souls. Castiel would kill Raphael, and Crowley could get the throne back from Sophia. It was a win-win situation. He would just have to stay undercover, what with demons having it in for him now. No one messes with Crowley, and gets away with it. Not even an archangel.

* * *

Something didn't sit right with me. The decoy was a shapeshifter. Where, and how, did Crowley get a shapeshifter that would obey him and take the bullet for him? Demons and monsters didn't have the best track record for teamwork. Maybe I shouldn't have exploded that creature. I had a sneaking suspicion that my bid for the throne must have pushed him to desperately utilise a part of his operation to get to Purgatory to save himself – a clumsy mistake. At least this was a start.

Following this train of thought, I found myself in Butler, Ohio, a small town. My new demon intelligence team let me know that a small group of shapeshifters were found here. It seemed appropriate, considering that this place was quiet and not heavily populated. Other than a general location, there wasn't much to go on, because all the shapeshifters were in hiding, apparently. I was there to find out why.

The darkness of the night always proved to be a good cover for the creatures that hunted. Everything was quiet, and there was less interference to my keen senses of perception. I walked through the silent streets, keeping my senses open to anything unusual. Cars whizzed by on the road. The sound of a dog barking snapped me out of my thoughts. I glared at the stray dog, and it quieted down to a whimper. My impatience eased, and I knelt to pet it. It stuck its tongue out eagerly as I stroked it behind the ear. Maybe I could use some help. "If you help me find a shapeshifter, I'll give you a treat." The dog made affirmative noises.

It took off in front of me, keeping within sights as it scoured the streets and scanned for shapeshifters. Eventually, my brown-furred, four-legged helper stopped at a traffic light and barked incessantly, his legs eagerly beckoning me to follow him. "Do you see something?" I calmed him down with pats on the back as I followed his gaze across the road. There, a creature masquerading as a man walked suspiciously towards a dilapidated building. That must be the shapeshifter. Thanking my little companion with a treat as promised, I stalked the shapeshifter invisibly.

He looked around every now and then, his dirty blond hair appearing almost brown in the darkness were it not for the streetlights interspersed along the road. Finally, he turned and entered the building, unlocking the door with keys that he fished from the pockets of his long, dark coat. His footsteps echoed along the hallways when he walked. Judging by the looks of it, the building seemed like an abandoned apartment project, which from a human perspective would have become a shelter for the poor and homeless. Evidently, upkeep was neglected. Grime built up along the walls and doorways and there were dead leaves everywhere. Following the shapeshifter led me to a small room with a barrel-contained fire from which five other shapeshifters received warmth.

"Long day?" A female shifter got up and welcomed the man, embracing him. He returned the gesture before they both settled in front of the fire.

"It's as good as it gets with the current times," he replied, his voice full of hopelessness.

"Will it ever get better?" she asked as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"They've got Father. It doesn't get worse than that, Maggie," another female answered from behind them. This one had short brown hair and wore a tank top, revealing tattoos on her arm. She seemed to be the oldest shifter in the room and there seemed to be a kind of resemblance among them. They could be a family. Maggie simply stared into the fire, like the weight of whatever they had been through had just worn through her.

"What happened to your father?" I made myself visible. The six of them jumped and scrambled to their feet.

"Who are you?" the one I followed growled. Their irises glowed a pale yellow threateningly.

"My name is Sophia. I am an archangel."

The tattooed female let out a sigh, presumably of relief, and cupped her mouth with her hands. "I can't believe it's you! I've only heard stories."

"Really?" I'd have thought that the Heavenly patrol would have tried their best to hide my existence from the world.

She beckoned everyone to relax and surely enough, they eased their composures. "You gave our Maker the gift to create us." Her lips widened into a smile. "Or at least that's what Father told us. Is it true?"

"Yes, it was I who gave Eve the ability to twist the human form into creatures like you." Relief spread over their faces. "So tell me, what was it that happened to your father?"

"He was kidnapped," another younger one in a beanie and a leather jacket said. "Word on the street is that some big-shot demon wants to use him to find _Purgatory_." He shrank back in fear when he mentioned Purgatory.

"Why would this demon think that your father knows where Purgatory is?"

"It's been happening to the others too," Maggie spoke up. "The vampires, the werewolves, we're all trying to remain hidden. All the elders are gone." Her voice grew weak. These creatures were scared. Wait, did she say their _elders_ were gone? So when they say 'Father', they meant the First One – the Alpha.

"So he has all the Alphas. And he's trapped or killed a lot more of your people, which is why all of you are running and hiding." They averted their gazes.

"It was difficult for us before because of all these hunters, but now it's worse because they're colluding with the demons. It's suffocating," Tattooed Arms confided.

"Hunters? Do you have names?"

"There's a whole bunch of them, including the Winchesters," she responded.

 _Winchesters._ As if I hadn't heard enough about them already. I couldn't believe that they'd be okay with helping a low-life like Crowley find Purgatory. Maybe this was how Castiel was using them, but they didn't know about the war in Heaven before, so they couldn't have known about Castiel's involvement.

"Do any of you have any clue where your father might have been taken?"

They shook their heads. "We've only heard about his kidnapping from others who called to warn us."

"But this is a good sign, right?" the younger one sounded optimistic. "Eve shows up, and now you're here. You're going to make it stop, right?"

" _Eve is free, huh…_ " I muttered under my breath.

"Please, will you do something about it?" A single tear left his eye and streamed down his cheek.

I looked at all of them. They seemed really desperate. If Eve was brought here, it must be really bad. I should find out what she knows. "I will do what I can to end the demon's operation. You have my word."

A ray of hope spread across their faces. This must have been the first time they felt any sort of relief in a long time. "You have no idea what this means to us, thank you," the eldest one expressed.

"If any of you hear or see anything about demons or hunters taking more of your kind, pray for me." As I exited the building, I noticed a certain brown dog waiting patiently at the end of the street. His lonely whimpers won me over, and I couldn't help but bring him back home to wander and play in the fields.

* * *

 _ **Back in Hell**_

So he must have thought that these creatures would know how to get to a place that they only reach when they die. By that logic, humans should know how to get to Heaven or Hell. It seemed more like Crowley just got a sadistic euphoria from hunting and torturing the monsters like this. Hell _does_ have that effect on people. If his line of reasoning was as flawed as I thought, then he would get nowhere with the Alphas. But they would suffer nonetheless. What was this new kinship that I felt for them? Was it an effect from meeting the shapeshifter family? Perhaps I felt good about giving them hope of a future where they could return to feeding on humans and balancing good and evil in the world. They were to me what demons were to Lucifer – they were a product of my gift to Eve, after all.

 _Eve._ If there was anyone who knew how to get to Purgatory, it would have to be Eve. From what I'd gathered, dragons had taken it upon themselves to release her as a last resort to Crowley's operation. That would make her a target for him, not that I thought he could best her. It was time to talk to her. I gave her powers, directly from my angelic form. That had to mean that I had a connection to her, right? I reached out my awareness, seeking the connection as I had when I tried to contact Lucifer from Heaven. "Eve? Do you hear me?" I called out using the link.

" _Sophia, is it you?"_ It worked. There was relief in her voice. When she communicated with me, I felt the full strength of her twisted soul that could not be said to be human anymore.

"I see that your powers have matured over time."

" _A boon born from your generous gift, for which I am grateful."_ I can't deny that I felt proud of what I did.

"You're out of Purgatory."

" _My children need me. I need to stop whatever it is this Crowley is doing to them."_

"You and me both."

" _If Crowley's gonna hurt my children, he's declared war on me. And I will send an army of my own."_

"I'm glad to hear about your proactive involvement, but I'm concerned about you as well. You're the best shot Crowley has at finding Purgatory and I doubt he'll rest until he's got you under his thumb."

" _Your concern is touching but please, Sophia. He's just a demon. I've dealt with worse."_ The Leviathans, of course. I hoped they treated her well. After all, she did do them a huge favour back in the day when all hell broke loose in Eden.

"In the past year, I've found it to be a good principle not to underestimate your enemies. Especially when said enemy has angels and hunters under his sleeve. Be careful, Eve. You must contact me especially if the _Winchesters_ get close." I'd already learnt my lesson not to underestimate them.

" _Hmph."_ I sensed scepticism. _"I will."_

Speaking of Winchesters, I felt that I should probably see Castiel in person. His campaign seemed to be gaining more and more success. Every week, I heard about more angels joining the cause. He had risen somewhat in power as well, since I'd permitted Balthazaar to give him access to the weapons. He'd told me that Castiel was pressuring him into giving away the location of the weapons. I needed Balthazaar to get close to Castiel and while the weapons would have a limited impact on Raphael himself, it was a tool of persuasion for angels. And so Castiel would receive the weapons from his trusted friend, Balthazaar.

Everything seemed to be going well on this front. The war would be a definite win. It was with this optimism that I invited Castiel over to my house one morning. The doors were wide open, ushering the fragrant breeze in from the colourful landscape out front, my _magnum opus_ of a garden. As if caught by intrigue, the angel stared at the growth patterns of creepers that grew along the porch, before turning back to where I was seated in the living room. "Uh-uh," I pointed to his feet. He rolled his eyes before taking off his shoes. There was a certain order and aura to my house and I will not have people just trampling all over it. "Please, sit down." I poured him a cup of tea from a porcelain kettle with intricate designs on its surface. Art should permeate all things, even day-to-day items.

"Why have you called me?" His grim face scanned my expression. I forgot, he only had one mode of being, which was emotionless observation. No fun.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your campaign. I can really see your efforts bearing fruit."

He gave a simple nod. "Um… thank you."

"Rahab and Pahaliah have been helping you, yes?" I passed him the warm cup.

"Yes, their help has been instrumental thus far."

"Good, good." A moment of silence passed between us as I opened a packet of herbs that I needed to consume and emptied it into my own cup. I stirred till the white powdery substance disappeared, leaving my tea with a milky complexion.

"There's something I need to bring up with you," a hint of nervousness could be seen behind his dark blue eyes. "It's regarding our partnership."

"Not having second thoughts, are we?"

"It's not that… the angels are aware of your escape. And your… conception. It worries them."

"And…?" I huffed. "The angels have been worried about my existence for a long time. I've learnt to ignore it."

"With another archangel on the way – specifically one created by _Lucifer and yourself_ – one is inclined to think their concern reasonable."

"And what _is_ their concern, exactly?"

"As it is, they suspect that you'll attempt to command them in Heaven. If they see you fighting with us in the war, they'll have more of a reason to think so. And there are mixed feelings about your child. Some would say that the child should be killed in his infancy before his powers are able to manifest and mature."

My hands froze as I was about to bring the cup to my lips. They wanted to kill my son? I felt anger surge through my veins. How dare they even _think_ about hurting him? It disgusted me when Raphael told me he experimented on pregnant angels and it disgusted me now to hear talk about angels wanting to kill my son while he was still a child. Even I couldn't bring myself to think about hurting a little one. They were too pure and innocent. It was why I'd spent a lot of time in the nurseries of Heaven as a young archangel.

I looked back to Castiel. "So this is a warning, then?" I probed. "You don't feel this way, do you?" I narrowed my eyes at him. _He'd better not._

He gulped. "My primary concern is to end Raphael's bid for power and hand the reigns of free will to the angels. As for you and the child…" he averted his gaze. "There will be no concern if you don't interfere in Heaven."

 _Hm._ I couldn't guarantee as much, but I'd have to play nice anyway. "I have Hell under my thumb now, so I'm sure we can come to an acceptable arrangement."

"That's reassuring," he flatly replied.

"It does comfort me to think that, despite our past differences, Heaven and I can enjoy a mutually beneficial relationship through this war. It's kind of like absolving my sins. I hope you can recognise that." I was leading him to an important point.

His head tilted ever so slightly. "I do…"

"So it's important that we learn to rally the forces of all our angelkind instead of going to people _outside_ our family."

"I don't understand where this is going…"

"All I'm asking is that you, and your merry band of supporters, stay out of my efforts to find Crowley and end his plans to crack open Purgatory."

His shoulders dropped with relief, as though he already agreed with my sentiment. A positive sign, hopefully. "Of course. No argument there."

"That includes Eve."

"Eve?"

"You may or may not be aware that Eve has been released from Purgatory. She and I are working to stop Crowley and I just want you to ensure that no one gets in our way. _Comprende?_ "

"Yes, I comprende." I smirked. Maybe there was hope for him after all. "If there isn't anything else, I should get going now." He got up to leave.

"Oh before I forget," I stood next to him near the doorway, brandishing the _Eye of Khaos._ As I held it on both my palms, I felt the power of its souls waiting to erupt. "Touch the centre." With the crystal in my grip, I could control the flow of souls. His hesitant fingers found their way to the black pigmentation in the crystal, becoming more comfortable as he understood what was happening. I saw the souls flow into him, his angel grace glowing ever more brightly.

When it was done, his arm retreated to his side as he regarded me with a plain gratitude. "What was that for?"

"Take it as a sign of good faith. A gesture of our blooming cooperation, if you will." Being expressionless as he was, he nodded in silent acknowledgement before he left.


	30. The Angel of Thursday

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter covers scenes from Mommy Dearest, S6E19, and The Man Who Would Be King, S6E20. Btw, it's no coincidence that I chose to upload this today, the very Thursday of the season 12 finale. Hope you enjoy it

 **Chapter 30: The Angel of Thursday**

I gasped. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to her, my beautiful, intelligent, caring Eve. I warned her to be wary of the hunters but alas, she was naïve. My heart sank as I caressed her cheek. It was stained with blackish blood, similar to the Leviathans she lived with in Purgatory. All that potential that I saw in her the first time we met – it was trust well-kept and matured. But they had taken it all from her. This attack was… absurdly personal. A whiff from the empty bullet casing on the counter reached me in the small space of the diner. _Phoenix ash._ That's a lot of trouble to go through, considering that phoenixes were rare creatures.

Earlier, Eve had contacted me out of the blue, mentioning only one name: Ryan Silver. It was the name of her latest creation, a beast in the guise of a small boy. The urgency in her telepathic message suggested that it was important. Without hesitation, I called for a demon who knew his way around computers and databases to find me this child and soon enough, I had a few addresses. I went down the list personally, determined to find the boy and see to it that Eve's plan would be fulfilled. The first two addresses didn't turn out to be much. Just happy, wholesome families who were going about their daily businesses.

The third had "beast" written all over it. In blood. Among the clutter and pools of blood I found the mutilated bodies of a man and a woman, presumably Mr and Mrs Silver. The kids were nowhere to be found. Despite the general mess, a family photo remained upright on a table. My palm moved left and right on the glass, wiping the blood away to reveal the whole family – Mr and Mrs Silver, two boys and another man who could have been a close relative. The steady noise of typing sounded as the IT demon tapped away on his laptop. "The boys' uncle, Your Highness," the demon reported. Within seconds I had an address. It was a slim chance that I would find the children at their uncle's house, but it seemed like the best lead to work with.

Just as I was about to flap my wings, an uncomfortable wave of energy hit me. It wasn't overwhelming and didn't affect me that much, but the energy signature was familiar. It was Eve. She was dying. My jaw clenched. _This can't be happening. Not when we are so close to getting Crowley._ Denial would do me no good. She was dead. Though I never really had the chance to bond with Eve, I still felt a kinship to her, a loyalty for obeying me in the Garden. I could go visit the scene of her death now and show her killers my wrath. But I remembered what she told me mere moments before she died – to protect the boy. Sending the demons that accompanied me to scour for the location of her death, I went alone to Ryan's uncle's house.

The dark interior of the house was as silent as the Silvers'. Sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, I found the uncle, eaten or bitten or both. They had to be here. "Ryan?" I called out. When no one answered, I scanned for anything unusual. The smell of death permeated the air. Following it, I came upon a door. _Please don't be…_ I opened the door. … _dead._ There they were, the two young boys. I sighed. Clean stab wounds to the chest. The blood coating the younger one's mouth suggested that he was Ryan. How did this happen? I found my answer upon closer inspection of the surroundings. _Sulfur._ Crowley's demons had somehow gotten to Ryan. How could he have known? Even I didn't know until Eve told me, and judging from her tone, she would have gone the extra mile to keep the existence of the boy a secret.

I pressed the bridge of my nose with two fingers. My phone rang. The demons found her. That was when I entered the diner while the demons waited outside. The scene was a bloodbath with creatures of her latest design. A slow rock ballad played in the background from the jukebox, setting the melancholic atmosphere of this destruction. And there she was, lifeless on the floor in the vessel of the virgin girl they used to summon her in. With a heavy heart, I stood back up and looked across the diner. What struck me as odd was the lack of sulfur. I walked over to a dead creature slumped onto a table in a booth and lifted his head by his hair. Assessing the damage, I found burnt insides and small-scale explosions. There was only one kind of being that could cause this – angels. And here I thought everything was going well with Castiel.

I couldn't leave the body here for Crowley to find. I carried her on my shoulders to my garden, where I buried her in a grove of trees. "As you created in life, you shall continue to do so in death," I whispered, as I laid her to rest. When the soil covered up the grave that I'd dug, an assortment of plants and fungi grew over it, demarcating the final resting place of Eve on Earth.

* * *

 _Accessing alternate universes?_ That had to require some pretty obscure materials right? Apparently Balthazaar, on Castiel's command, had managed to send the Winchesters to one and Raphael sent his aide, Virgil, to get a key from them. From what Balthazaar reported, Virgil was trapped in this alternate universe without access to magic. _Yikes._ Sucks to be him. That left us with Nathaniel, Haniel, Zadkiel and a bunch of Raphael groupies. Dinah and Shemsiel managed to gather that Nathaniel, along with Virgil and Sariel, was in charge of intelligence, which included a focus on the Heavenly weapons that I so conveniently managed to steal from their grasp. Haniel and Zadkiel were more executive guys, with Zadkiel being Raphael's own secretary. I was pleased with my team's progress and gave them a vote of approval when they proposed that we kidnap Nathaniel who, in light of his colleagues' disappointing performance, was sent out by Raphael to achieve what they could not. Big mistake, especially when Raphael had enemies who eagerly waited for the first chance that they could confront one of his people out of Heaven, where they weren't as safe.

And then there was the time that Castiel made Balthazaar change an event of the past – the sinking of a ship named _The Titanic_ – to generate 50,000 new souls. Of course, this was during the time I was trying to harvest souls promised to Hell, but that was more of a publicity stunt than anything. I knew, from the moment I smelt the change in the flow of time, that this plan was a total bust. There was no way that the Fate sisters were going to let that slide. As I'd suspected, Castiel was forced to reverse his decision to save his precious boys. If he'd just waited another week or so, he could have been comforted by the knowledge of my victory in Hell.

Anyway, the purpose of my recalling these events was just to remark upon the sheer desperation that certain people went through to achieve their goals. And by certain people, I meant Castiel. I would be lying if I said his pattern of behaviour didn't strike me as suspicious. It was rather obsessive, a trait that I had only seen in an angel once a long time ago. It was a dark time when Lucifer was branded with the Mark of Cain. I had seen him develop behaviour that was worrying and out of control. Certainly, Castiel wasn't being influenced by The Darkness but his actions seemed to be pointing in a direction of uncompromising grit, which could be good and bad simultaneously. In focusing on the success of his campaign and my bid to overthrow Crowley, I had neglected the warning signs. I should have seen this coming.

With Eve's death, I was getting impatient. I needed answers. I needed to know for sure if it was Castiel, or someone else. I couldn't just _ask_ him, could I? He'd just lie about it anyway. I broke the silence at the table when I spoke my doubts. Raziel and I were using Shemsiel's office to discuss our current involvement in the war while the others went about their prescribed duties. The muffled bass from the loudspeakers of the club upstairs reached us through the ceiling. As usual, Shemsiel hadn't cleared up the mess. Strengthening my will to think about matters at hand, I ignored the knee-high piles of papers on the floor. Raziel listened intently as I voiced my concerns. "Do Rahab and Pahaliah have anything to say about this?" I ended my tirade.

"When they checked in last week, Pahaliah mentioned that Castiel had been taking long absences when he wasn't with the angels or the Winchesters, and she knows this because Rahab has been checking on the Winchesters every once in a while. So during that time, no one knows where he is," he reported.

"When you say he's been checking on the Winchesters…"

"He doesn't approach them. He just watches them from afar to see if they have company."

I nodded. "Hasn't it been a week? Aren't they supposed to check in with you now?"

"They are…" Raziel fished out his phone. "But they could be running late too. Happens from time to time."

I didn't have a good feeling about this. "Raziel, call Pahaliah. Now."

The desperation in my voice set him off in a worrisome mood too as he dialled the numbers and put the phone on speaker. _"Raz!"_ a sob-broken voice sounded.

Raziel and I exchanged alarmed looks. "Pahaliah, it's me, Sophia. What's wrong?"

" _It's Rahab. I don't know where he is!"_ She broke out into sobs again.

"What do you mean?" Raziel probed.

" _He was supposed to call me two days ago. He said he saw the Winchesters doing something shady and he needed more information to be sure about what he was seeing. But he never called."_ More sobs. _"I know, I should have called you but I… I guess I was just holding on to the hope that he's alright and he'll call me soon."_ Oh no. This is bad. Someone got to him for spying on the Winchesters. And two days ago was when Eve was murdered. This could not be a coincidence.

"Pahaliah, listen to me." I leaned in closer to the phone. "You can't stay there anymore. You have to lea-"

" _Sshhh… I think he's coming back… Castiel?"_ A muffled scream pierced through the air. Then, a gruff, monotonous voice said, _"I'm sorry this had to happen. You were getting too close."_

My eyes widened in shock. The sounds of struggling grew louder and louder until suddenly, a noisy thud resounded and the call was abruptly cut. She must have dropped her phone. _Shit._ Now two of my angels were taken. What would he do to them? Was he going to kill them? I swear if they got hurt… Raziel's exasperated grunt brought me back to the present moment. He breathed heavily and paced about, clearly distressed. "What do we do now?" His eyes begged me for some sort of resolution. And I was inclined to give it to him.

"I get that you're angry, but you still need to do what you're supposed to do. When Dinah and Shemsiel get Nathaniel, I want you to channel your anger into finding out what Raphael has planned and if there's anything we should be wary about," I commanded. "I'm gonna have a little chat with Castiel."

* * *

The Winchesters were hard at work interrogating a demon named Red at the Singer household. They suspected that the demon had connections to Crowley, since he'd helped him clear a nest of vampires. Perhaps it would have been wise to ally with the hunters on this one. The four of them jumped when I showed up, the hunters reaching for their guns and knives. With a simple flick of the wrist, I flung them to the walls and locked them in their positions.

"Sophia," Dean recognised.

"Just a minute, boys." I hurled my blade into the demon's trap on the ceiling, breaking it open. "I'll be right with you." The demon shrunk into his seat, clearly terrified. "You will pay for your crimes against Hell."

I grabbed the demon by the shoulder. "Please, Your Highness, I concede! Please don't hurt me!" He begged as I flew him to Hell. I handed him over to the demon in charge of the prisons and ordered them immediately begin to extract information from him about Crowley's whereabouts. Within a matter of minutes, I went back to the Singer household.

Sam held my blade in his hands, retrieved from a gaping hole in Bobby's ceiling. He twirled it smugly as I appeared again, probably thinking that he would have a chance of using it against me. "Enjoyed your five minutes of feeling powerful?" I teased as I summoned the blade back into my grip. They shuddered at the gesture, staring at me all wide-eyed.

"You're looking a bit full there," Dean commented. "Who knocked _you_ up?"

"Lucifer," I answered proudly, to their disdain. "Didn't your buddy Castiel tell you? Oh well, I bet he doesn't tell you a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby interjected. I scanned the old man. His body was weary from age but clearly his sense of scepticism had been refined over the years.

"Tell me, boys, how much do you think you know about Castiel? What is he doing for Crowley?" I inquired.

"Even if we knew, we ain't selling out our friend to _you_!" Dean spat out.

I sighed. "Your friend could be trying to open the floodgates of the one place where every monster that even God rejected rests, and you're still clinging on to loyalty. Your priorities are off, kid."

"God rejected you and _you're_ roaming free, aren't you?" He retorted. _Oh, the mouth on this one. Looks like it's time to get Castiel to rush over here._

"Let's cut the foreplay." I raised a finger towards Sam. "Eenie." My finger moved to Dean. "Meenie." Sam, again. "Miney." Dean. " _Mo."_ Sam, it is. My fingers curled in slowly as his insides were crushed and he yelled out in pain. His intestines burned slowly under my focus, their bloody remains swirling inside his abdomen as he keeled over.

Dean's frantic cries were cut short by a fluttering of wings. "Stop it!" The trench-coated angel appeared before us. Ah, poor predictable Castiel. God's favourite little soldier, leader of the angelic revolution and powered by thousands of souls - still beholden to a couple of humans.

"Finally. I was wondering when you'd show."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked through gritted teeth. His fists were clenched. I managed to get him riled up, it seems.

"Did you think me a fool, Castiel?" I forced him to the side and he crashed into a wall. "Did you think you couldlie to me and get away with it? I told you to keep your people away from Eve. I told you to keep my angels safe!" I picked him up by the collar and threw him to the other side of the room, where Bobby was pinned against the wall. "We had a good deal, Castiel. You should have listened to me. Instead, you continue to throw in with a _cockroach_ like Crowley!" The humans exchanged terrified glances, like I'd just confirmed their worst suspicions. Understandable.

"And _you're_ any better?" Castiel muttered, as he slowly got to his feet. "Am I supposed to believe that you wouldn't want to rule Heaven once Raphael is gone? Who's to say that you wouldn't do what he would - restart the apocalypse? It's obvious that you want to release Lucifer!"

"Lucifer and I have suffered long enough!" I shot back. "And for what? The very same cause that you are fighting for right now. If you doubted me so much, why'd you set me free, smart guy?" I held his gaze for a second. "That's right, you still need me as a back up plan in case you can't open Purgatory before you confront Raphael. And then what, you'll take the Purgatory souls and kill me, is that it?" I let out a short laugh. "Purgatory is too much juice for a simple angel like you and certainly too much for a mere demon like Crowley. You wouldn't just defeat Raphael. You would become _God._ " Bobby's eyes widened at what I said. "And there's a reason why God is the only God around. This isn't about Heaven, or the angels. It's about you and your greed for power!"

"You're wrong." He shook his head. "I'm doing what I have to do and you just don't like it."

"Then we'll just have to disagree." I held my blade in front of me, ready to strike. "I'm going to give you one last chance. Tell me where you're keeping Rahab and Pahaliah."

His gaze hardened. "No."

Wrong answer, Cas. This time I threw my blade into Dean's shoulder, causing him to groan in pain. "I don't think you understand. Tell me, or your pet humans get it." Almost immediately, I summoned the blade back to my hand, causing blood to gush forward and stain his shirt.

"I don't think _you_ understand, Sophia." He raised his palm toward me, a ball of light emanating from his hand. "I'm powered by souls. You can't make me do anything."

"I'm not scared of you," I declared. "You're just a child with a dangerous toy. For your sake, I hope Rahab and Pahaliah are alive." I raised my own palm, getting ready to counter his strike. As I focused, black spots began to appear in my vision. Dizziness overcame me. I shut my eyes tightly and held a hand to my forehead. _Not now, dammit!_

"What's wrong, Sophia? Someone steal your juice?" He provoked. My breathing grew heavier. I held onto the nearest table for support. Over time, I'd gotten used to the occasional dizzy spells and learned to overcome them as quickly as I could, but this was different. I couldn't seem to get rid of it. My grip on the humans began waning and they soon broke free. Then, I felt it. A strong kick in my tummy. Not like "I'm here and alive", but more like "I'm coming out". I was going into labour. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this! I was supposed to be ready and willing. It's like my son made the decision himself. Could he do that?

"You crossed the line when you threatened my friends. I didn't plan on hurting your son, Sophia, but you will leave me no choice if you continue to stand in my way," Castiel warned with fury in his voice.

"This isn't over," I uttered bitterly before I took off.

* * *

I rushed to the bedroom. It was raining heavily. Thunder boomed and lightning pierced the air. I was alone in my home. Through the labour pains, I managed to pull off my clothing and lie on the bed. I needed to stay calm. Breathe in, breathe out. The child was impatient. Another painful kick had me groaning through clenched teeth. The sheets bunched in my tight grasp as I exerted my first push. God, this was painful. Taking another deep breath, I pushed again. A raspy grunt escaped my throat. Just a little more. Before I could summon another burst of strength to push through the pain, I felt a familiar flare reach out to me. Only this time, it was a silent beckoning and, relieved, I gave into Lucifer. The anguish in my womb slowly drained into the link between us as I held onto my newfound by little, taking my time, I patiently pushed the child out. Hours passed. It had been almost a full day and the heavy storm carried on through the night. Finally, the skies cleared and a ray of sunlight enveloped me in its warm embrace as I felt the first wave of relief from the subsiding pain. Soft cries reached my ears. Son of Lucifer, born through a storm and emerged in light. My son.

Slowly, I straightened up to a sitting position and glanced between my legs. On the blood-soaked sheets, there he was. A little bundle. A little archangel born with his own human vessel. Picking up my blade, I sliced the umbilical cord. He felt warm to the touch when I picked him up gingerly, one hand supporting his neck and another his back. He quieted down as I brought him closer to me and gazed lovingly upon his innocent face. For a moment, his eyes opened. I gasped with indescribable joy when I saw the eyes of his father staring back at me. I instinctively knew what to call him. "Luciel, my beautiful boy. I can't wait for you to meet your father."

As though understanding what I said, his tiny lips opened into a pure, short chuckle. I didn't think I have been happier in my life than during this moment. Just holding his small body in my arms made me want to slay armies for the sake of protecting him. "No one can touch you. You are strong, the product of the eternity of love that your father and I shared. And you are loved," I told him.

Cleaning up the mess, I threw on a soft dress, the feeling of it sticking to my natural figure a refreshing one. Luciel slept comfortably as I wrapped him up in a blanket that I tied around my torso to carry him around with me. The rain had stopped, and the soft sunlight made everything glow. Mist clouded the landscape as I walked through the garden, going back to the river I visited when I first became pregnant. The water flowed gently, its clear surface like flowing glass. It cooled my legs when I sat at the river bank and immersed my feet in the river. "Thank you, God," I whispered through tears of happiness as I gazed up at the sky. It just felt right to be in God's company in a moment like this, despite everything that had happened. After all, my child could not be this well were it not for God's blessing. I hoped this meant that we had a bright future.

Luciel's cry beckoned me to look back at him. I could have sworn he was sleeping peacefully. Then I realised it wasn't that something was wrong with him. He was troubled by something else. The river was changing. Its crystal clear surface now took on a pinkish tint, which gradually deepened into red. I immediately pulled my legs back out. _What was happening?_ This reddish colour, upon further inspection, could only be blood. Where did it come from? "Shh…" I gently calmed him down as I got up to return home. I'd have to consult my books on this one. My dog eagerly wandered about my legs when he saw me. These days, the dog enjoyed the fruits of my garden, free to roam anywhere but always returning home. It seemed he too was excited about seeing my son.

The sound of my phone ringing reached me before I entered the house. It was Raziel. He'd be the first to hear about the birth. "You have good timing, Raziel," I said as I picked up.

" _This is urgent. Please tell me you aren't home."_

I frowned. "I… am. What's wrong?"

" _We just got Nathaniel in a few hours ago and I_ just _managed to crack him. They're planning an ambush on you, Sophia! You need to get out of there!"_

"What? I don't understand. How could they have known where I live?"

" _I don't know for certain, but it seems there is a trail of sorts. They believe that the Holy Lance is being used."_ The blood in the river. The weapon of God. _"They were following the trail to find Castiel but they realised that it was you it led to. Raphael is leading his supporters to kill you as we speak!"_

I let out a heavy breath. Castiel led them to me. I didn't think he was capable of something as low as this, but clearly I was wrong. The loud, disruptive barking of the dog drew my attention. I rushed out to the porch. The angels were coming. "It's too late. They're here."

" _Oh my god."_

"I've given birth, Raziel. I need to protect my son."

" _We're coming to help you."_ He cut the call. Okay, now I wasn't pregnant anymore. I was at full capacity. _I can do this._ I lay Luciel down on the couch to sleep and locked all the doors before I stood outside, with my weapon and battle armour, which Hassiel had been so kind to have designed for me.

"Like a lamb offered up to slaughter," Raphael remarked as he showed up in his new female vessel. A group of at least two dozen angels stood ready to fight behind him. They hovered above the ground around my house. I flew up to face them. "The child has arrived, I presume."

"Not that you'll get to see him," I spat out.

"I beg to differ. I think I'd make a great uncle. You, on the other hand, will be the mother he never knew."

The fluttering of more wings sounded. At my side, Raziel, Dinah, Shemsiel and Hassiel had shown up. The odds were not looking good. But I would be damned again if I gave up my son without a fight. With a flick of Raphael's arm, the angels charged toward us. Raphael and I advanced towards each other, once again engaged in battle. I fought hard, striking furiously and blocking his strikes with my vambraces. While we fought, a number of angels rushed to the house, trying to get the doors open. The house, being sentient, put up its own fight, occasionally releasing short spurts of energy to repel them. But it wouldn't hold for long. Soon enough, I found an opening and with a large swoop of my wings, I rushed Raphael and drove him into the ground. Not wasting a second, I summoned a tree to grow around him, holding his limbs down in a wooden prison of its roots.

A single glint of sunshine reflected off my blade as it soared through the air, piercing an angel through the head. The angel adjacent to him jumped reflexively before he saw me coming at him, my fist clenched and ready to punch. He plummeted to the ground while a few more angels tried to hold me down by my arms. _They never learn, do they?_ In a swift motion, my wings expanded to their full length, flinging the angels far away. Retrieving my blade, I slew more angels. I looked to my companions. Their hands were full and I needed to help them but with Raphael still alive that would be difficult. My eyes wandered back to the tree that I just grew. The roots were broken messily, Raphael nowhere to be found. _Shit, where did he go?_

Out of the corner of my eye, a figure rushed at me with unprecedented speed. Before I knew it, I was driven down into the ground. My head hit the ground so hard I began seeing double. Dark hands belonging to Raphael grabbed onto my blade and began impaling my right shoulder. The pain was so great that barely any sound escaped my throat. Sparks of my essence began appearing around the blade as I felt my power slipping away, along with my consciousness. "You can't survive this," Raphael announced. With a slowness conferred by the resistance of my body, he pulled the blade further down my torso a few inches. This time I groaned in pain. He had the upper hand. I could not imagine a possibility where I would survive this scenario. If it was any other time, I could have at least found some peace in death, but images of my son being hurt kept my last moments filled with panic. _I can't die now!_


	31. The Second Heavenly War

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter is based on the events in The Man Who Knew Too Much, S6E23. Also Sophia calls Luciel by his nickname, Luc (pronounced Luke), which I thought was kinda cute and it differentiates him from Lucifer, who we all call Luci ;)

 **Chapter 31: The Second Heavenly War**

I groaned as I lay in the depression in the soil. My essence was leaving me. Within a matter of moments this would be it. I held the image of my newborn son in my mind. A single tear escaped my eye and ran down the side of my face, a sight that seemed to give Raphael satisfaction. I was helpless against the force of my dimming consciousness as my eyelids struggled to stay open. I winced in pain as Raphael hastily pulled out the blade and left me to die slowly. Heat rose in my wings, ready to burn.

" _Lucifer…"_ I desperately called out in my head. I didn't even know if I had enough energy to reach him at this moment. Every inch that my awareness had to extend to find him felt like a struggle. The light of my remaining essence seemed so close yet so unattainable. I was sure I would give up before I could reach it. But he didn't. I could have sworn I felt the heat of death reach me. _"I'm going to die, Lucifer… I'm sorry I couldn't save our son…"_

"Listen to me!" A sharp voice filled my head. "You will not die. I won't let you. Receive from me, as you did all those years ago. Relax, and receive!" That was when a sudden rush of coldness filled my body. It energised me and restored the life in my limbs. I fought every urge to resist as the burning cold of his essence worked to heal my own polar opposite one. The wounds, unfortunately, were too deep to be completely healed but they were partially restored. Just one simple connection between us, created by God in the beginning – this was enough. Enough for me to climb my way up the trench and emerge onto the ground with dirt-crusted palms. _I can't believe it. I'm not dead._

I gasped heavy breaths as I stayed on all fours, looking at the ground with a newfound appreciation for life. Then, my ears tuned into the sounds around me. Clashing of swords, grunts of effort – the battle was still going on! I got up to my feet and looked up. Shemsiel, Dinah, Raziel and Hassiel were surrounded with seven angels encircling them. I rushed up, snapping necks and spinning with my wings outstretched to cut and maim the angels. Clearly relieved to see me, their offenses stepped up and within moments, we stood victorious and alive. A deserved calm settled over the field. There was so much spilt blood that some droplets stained the outer walls of my house. Oh well, at least that gave it an interesting aesthetic.

 _The house._ Raphael, he came for one thing – my son. Alarmed, my eyes widened at the sight of a broken door. With a short yelp I flew in as fast as I could, approaching the couch from its back. I looked over its spine and there was nothing. _No, no, no, no, NO._ The muscles of my arms and chest tightening, my fingers curled in rigidly as a short, raw, uninhibited growl escaped my throat. Rage filled me like The Great Flood, threatening to annihilate anything in its way. I needed to find Luciel and I needed to kill something while at it. A moment passed. Then another. My murderous impulse waned, though my fury did not. When the time came, it would rise up to the surface again.

"S-Sophia?" Hassiel called. I turned to the direction of the broken glass door and foundmy companions, worn out from fighting, standing there patiently.

"He's gone, Hass," my broken voice said. Tears filled my vision. "They took him."

"We'll find him," Hass reassured me. "I promise."

"We promise," Dinah chimed in.

* * *

There was work to be done. The tranquil scene of the well-trimmed garden that extended for acres around my house was now destroyed by the battle. Dozens of dead bodies littered the ground. We had to dispose of them. Luckily, I knew the perfect burial ground. All these patches of ruined crops and flowering plants could use a new source of life. With the help of my friends, we filled up the destroyed patches with graves of dead angels. Yet, there were some left over. These went with Eve at the grove. We were worn out by the task of burying our dead brothers and sisters, some of whom we recognised. Haniel, one of our targets, was among them. Night fell when we were done and the activity that I used to occupy my mind from restless anxiety ended. Raphael probably took Luciel to Heaven, if he didn't kill him. He couldn't have, because Lucifer and I would've felt something. We both felt his strong life-blood as soon as he was conceived. It was a comforting rumble in the core of our very being, and I rejoiced in the fact that it continued to exist even after I gave birth. But that said nothing about whether he was in pain or in trouble.

It was only when I finally took a seat with the others that I remembered that I still had a shoulder wound. It was pretty bad and stung when I leaned into my chair. Normal flesh wounds could be easily healed but with a deep wound like this, especially one inflicted by a blade made specially to kill a being like me, only time could heal it. Shemsiel took one close look at it and his face contorted intoan expression of disgust. "Lord, that's nasty," he remarked.

"Thanks for the confidence booster," I retorted wryly.

"Hey, I'm just being honest," he replied defensively.

"Shemsiel, didn't you invent some kind of healing potion formula not too long ago?" Raziel inquired.

Shemsiel's fingers paused in their position on my chest as his face turned inquisitively to him. "I've never had the chance to test it," he answered. We all saw where this was going. "No, I can't use it on her. We don't know what side-effects it could have."

"We don't have a choice," Dinah's heavily lined eyes flickered between Raziel and Shemsiel. "We need her at full strength to take down Raphael."

Shemsiel sighed before returning his gaze to me. "It's your call."

"I've experimented drugs on myself before and I turned out just fine. Just do it." That was what I told them, and it was true for the most part. But in all honesty, I felt nothing inside. I was just waiting for the weight of guilt and anger to drop on me and the wait was killing me. I'd rather experience whatever temporary suffering this mysterious healing potion would inflict on me than sit around and wait for a plan to show itself. Shemsiel and Dinah left to retrieve the potion while the rest of us waited. The bright lights in the house insulated me from the darkness outside that threatened to invade my thoughts. For the time being, they kept me grounded in the present moment.

Meanwhile, I stared at the screen of my phone, watching as minutes passed. Finally, I dialled Balthazaar, now realising that if Castiel found out about Rahab and Pahaliah, he could be onto Balthazaar as well. To my relief, Balthazaar picked up.

"Are you alone?" I checked.

" _For the moment, yes. Is anything wrong?"_ He probably didn't know.

"Everything's wrong." I paused. "You have to stop Castiel before it's too late."

" _But we're so close, Sophia. Open war could emerge at any moment. We need Castiel to lead-"_

"You can't trust him. Castiel hasn't stopped trying to find Purgatory."

" _What? When was Purgatory involved?"_

"Since the beginning. He's been working with Crowley this whole time, even when I told him not to."

" _S-surely there must be… some explanation…"_ He stuttered.

"I know you want to believe that Castiel is your friend and someone you can rely on, but believe me, he's not. You must have noticed how extremely he acts by now. If you need further proof, he kidnapped Rahab and Pahaliah because they found out what he was up to."

" _The Nalkam? God…"_

"And when I confronted him about it, he set up a trail that led Raphael right to me using the Holy Lance. Now Raphael has… he has my son," I explained, tears stinging my eyes. I gulped before continuing, "You need to help me find Rahab and Pahaliah, and put an end to whatever it is that he's planning."

" _That's horrible."_ He stopped to consider what I'd just said, and then huffed in annoyance. _"I'll do what I can."_ He cut the call.

The next call I made was to Hell. I had to find out what that demon knew about Crowley's whereabouts. The phone kept ringing… and ringing. No one picked up. _God, what now?_ I wanted to get up and leave but Hassiel stopped me.

"Be patient, Sophia, please," he begged.

"Castiel is succeeding in ruining my life right now. I'm finding it mildly difficult to be patient," I snapped back at him.

"Just until Shemsiel gets ba- There he is." The two angels hurried towards me. Taking a deep breath, Shemsiel opened the bottle and poured the clear liquid onto my shoulder. It burnt and hissed for a while, which was somewhat discomforting but still manageable. The others stared on intently, waiting for the initial reaction to die down. Eventually it did, and the wound healed just fine.

Shemsiel heaved a sigh of relief. "Seems like your formula is a winner," I complimented him as I pulled my shirt over my shoulder and got back up.

"So, what do we do now?" Raziel asked. Everyone looked to me for an answer.

It was time. "Start the war." I wasn't going to give Castiel any more of a chance to get to Purgatory. If the war started now, he would have no choice but to abandon his plans and fight with us.

* * *

I flew as fast as I could to Hell. I had my suspicions from the unsuccessful phone call and they were confirmed. Every demon from the entrance to the prison – all slain. Traces of angelic power. If Castiel wasn't my nemesis, I would be impressed by his ability to stay one step ahead of me but right now I was pissed as hell. Not only did he kidnap my friends, but he also gave Raphael the opening to kill me and take my son away. All of that was on him and now I had no way of finding him. Somehow I'd figured this out on the way, though I had to see it for myself. It seemed I was left with no choice but to finish what was started – the war in Heaven. That was the only way out of it all. Find Raphael, get him to hand over my son, and kill him. When Castiel shows up to kill Raphael, that would be my only chance to face him. I knew he would show up all powered up, but I didn't care anymore. I needed to see his face when I use every force of my being to exterminate him.

In the heat of the moment, a peculiar thought came to mind. Following it, I returned to the last place I had ever wanted to be – the vault. My prison. Under all that water, natural growth had overtaken the stone doors. I had never really gotten a good look at this place since I was forced in by Raphael and unconscious when Lucifer brought me out. The locks were all undone. Receptive to my presence, the doors easily shifted open when I telekinetically pulled on them. Inside, I was led down a dark tunnel to another set of open doors. Everything suddenly felt so claustrophobic. A sense of doom grew within me as I approached the doors that served as an entrance to my very own torture chamber. They were supposedly guarded by these strange creatures, as Lucifer had recounted. I say 'supposedly' because they were nowhere to be found now. _Where had they gone?_ I wondered. This doubt was soon eclipsed by the sight of what served as the purpose of my visit. I shuddered thinking about the first time I was here but quickly the fear and anxiety evolved into an unending lust for revenge. Now I was ready for the war.

Chaos had already erupted when I set foot in Heaven again. Battle cries resounded and a mess of wings colliding and metal clashing characterised the scene of the battle. It was The Revolution all over again, but on a much larger scale. Everyone was involved. Picking up two swords from dead angels, I engaged with the horde of colliding angels, wielding a sword in each hand. It was the only way to get to the main building where I had to begin the search for Luciel. Also, it wouldn't hurt to annihilate some of the competition along the way. This was me, doing what I was meant to do. An archangel, a deadly weapon of Heaven, eliminating those who stood in my way. All the years of pain I'd endured for wanting a better future for this place now coursed through me. Here, I was pure instinct – no thoughts or identity holding me back. At some point, I stopped and dropped my blades. Concentrating solely on my surroundings, I harvested all the energy I could find, and Heaven was full of it. It was a state of being that could never be achieved in Earth or Hell – a state of pure devastation. Pointing my palms outwards at Raphael's supporters, I blasted a clean line of fire at them, straight from my core. It was like bringing Hell to them. That got rid of a good number of angels.

I looked around. Angels were all around me, but there was no sign of Raphael. Or Castiel.

* * *

(Balthazaar POV)

He couldn't believe it. Purgatory? He didn't want to believe it either. But what reason could Sophia have to lie? She was a trusted friend of Hass, who had been his outside source for luxuries prohibited in Heaven. For many millennia, Hass and Balthazaar had a mutually beneficial relationship, whereby Hass continued his weapon-making craft using materials from Heaven and Balthazaar received commodities like artefacts from Earth and space. It seemed like a simple trade but it was one that required unbreakable trust on both their parts, since Hassiel was a wanted fallen angel and Balthazaar would be seen as a traitor. This arrangement also came with an inevitable friendship that had its roots in Balthazaar assisting Hassiel's escape from Heaven's prisons. So if Hassiel trusted Sophia, he would too.

On top of that, he did notice Castiel's erratic behaviour. Then there was Sam and Dean's prayers – Lisa and Ben had been taken. The boys were desperate. How could Castiel have put two innocent humans at risk like this? This wasn't right. He should've guessed that something was off the minute he saw the angel warding and dirty white tiles of the abandoned mental institution. Clearly it was more than Castiel's hideout. He was probably lucky that he even got this close to Cas. The weapons played a huge part in that, though he had placed more hope in the months that they worked together to best Raphael through which their friendship was strengthened.

If what Sophia said was true, then he would need to do all he could to stop Cas. And that meant alerting the Winchesters. After all, they knew something was up with Castiel. They could do something about it while Sophia had her hands full with Raphael and the war. It was this thought that led him to give Dean and Bobby the location of Castiel's lair, while Sam dealt with the broken wall in his mind. He was just about to text Sophia the address when his phone rang.

The angels heard the trumpets of war go off. It had begun. Castiel should be preparing for it. He'd called Balthazaar to meet with him, presumably to discuss final details before they both left to Heaven. Castiel sat deep in thought, holding a jar of what looked to be blood in his hands. "You rang, Cas?" Balthazaar arrived.

"Yeah, we have a problem," he replied with a grim tone. "Sophia is looking for me as we speak and Dean Winchester is on his way here. It's a miracle that they're not working together."

"Really? Oh. How'd he even know where we were?" Balthazaar feigned surprise.

"Apparently," Cas set the jar down on a table next to him. "We have a Judas in our midst."

"Ah," Balthazaar chuckled nervously. "Holy Hell, who is it? I bet it's that bloody little Cherub, isn't it?"

Cas stood up slowly, still keeping his eyes fixed on his friend. "I don't know. But I-I need you to find out."

"Of course. Um, right away. Right away." Balthazaar nodded in agreement. "Uh, but what do you want me to do about Dean and Sophia?"

Cas turned away, his face filled with disappointment. "Nothing. I'll handle them myself."

"Castiel, are you alright?"

"First Sam and Dean, and now this. I'm doing my best in impossible circumstances. My friends, they abandon me, plot against me. And then I thought Sophia's cooperation would be invaluable but it seems that her interests conflict with what's good for the angels. So now, I have yet another archangel out to get me. It's difficult to understand," Cas professed.

Balthazaar smirked, wanting to reassure Castiel. "Well you've - you've always got little old me."

Castiel wasn't buying it. He'd thought about the time he helped Sophia break out of Heaven. She and Hassiel had been missing from the battle for a certain amount of time. This roughly corresponded to the window of opportunity Balthazaar would've had to steal the weapons, considering he 'died' around the time that Sophia and Hassiel disappeared. She had to be involved in it somehow. Why else would Balthazaar have been attempting to harvest souls using the weapons of God if not for Sophia's use? He'd made it clear that he wanted to stay clear of the fighting the time they met on Earth. Before Balthazaar could react, Castiel appeared behind him. Without a semblance of mercy, Castiel drove the blade through his own friend. "Yes, I'll always have you."

"Cas…" Angel grace flashed brightly through the vessel as Balthazaar died, for real this time. Amidst the shock he felt a loss. He'd lost the angel he once thought to be well-intentioned and noble. The one who had paved the way for a new thinking among angels, a school of thought that relied on the principle of free will which he could certainly admire. That angel was no more. In his place was this hunger for power, an obsessive impulse that led this once-admirable angel down a path where he betrayed his own friends. Balthazaar regretted not letting Sophia know about this location, which would now be his grave.

* * *

 _ **Back in Heaven**_

The office building was practically empty when I scoured the corridors. The first place I thought to check was Raphael's office. A loud thud resounded as I kicked in the door. Empty. He wasn't here. This didn't make any sense. The revolutionary angels were practically kicking ass. He should be here to help them and secure his reign, or at least in this building somewhere to threaten me. I searched the office, looking at papers and books and whatever I could find. There had to be a clue somewhere. All I got was irrelevant information. This was going nowhere. Exasperated, I threw a decorative paper weight with all my force. It smashed through the window, allowing cool air to enter. As I stood by the window, I could see the whole battle taking place. Raphael's office did have a nice view of the landscape in Heaven, and the cosmos from the perspective of Earth. There was a lunar eclipse tonight. That's when it clicked for me. The lunar eclipse was when the distance between Earth and the underworld realms would be smallest – that included Hell and Purgatory. I didn't know if Castiel would've the necessary materials and spells to reach Purgatory but if he did, tonight would be his chance.

I needed something – anything – to go on to find Luciel and Castiel. Think, Sophia, think. What about the medical wards? I remembered that Raphael was once seen as a great and talented healer. I had even learnt a few things from him when I was young. But now, the wards and nurseries had been largely cordoned off due to the fact that the angels had not been reproducing as much. Without God, no one felt good about procreating anymore. We used to celebrate the birth of every angel. Not anymore. If Raphael thought I was dead, and he probably did, he may not have any qualms about using such an obvious location to stow away my child.

My heart full of desperate hope, I wandered down the hallways to the familiar area where I had developed my not-so-friendly relationship with Raphael – the wards. The silence down here was a stark contrast to the fighting outside. Though bright and white, the eerie quiet gave the place a gloomy feel. This was practically Raphael's second home. I wondered if he still spent as much time here. As I advanced down the corridor, a faint cry reached me. I sighed in relief. That was him – Luciel! I rushed towards the direction of the sound, pushing doors upon doors open in my way.

I came upon the final door and abruptly stopped when it opened. There he was, the child resting in the crib. But I wasn't alone. "You? You're still alive?" Zadkiel was wide-eyed with shock. "But that's… that's impossible."

"Believe it," I hissed as I raised my arm, ready to smite. Zadkiel's gaze flickered between the baby and me. Clearly he was left in-charge alone because Raphael wasn't expecting any visitors.

His worried expression now changed to one of relief. He smirked. "It doesn't matter anyway. The boss is way ahead of you. When he comes back, you won't stand a chance."

"What are you talking about?"

Good thing groupies had limitless faith in whoever they looked up. Enough to gloat about it, anyway. "Raphael's going to get Purgatory. He's with Crowley, doing the spell right now."

For a moment, I hesitated, lowering my arm in surprise. Taking advantage of this, Zadkiel made a swift calculation and reached for the blade that was on the table. His eyes barely returned to me when I snapped my fingers, exploding him.

"No one shall stand between us anymore," I whispered as I picked Luciel up. He stopped crying and now smiled sweetly at me. "Raphael wants Purgatory too, huh? I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to keep your uncles from making a great mistake, Luc. At least I'll have you."

His tiny hands reached for me, gently patting my chest. "What is it, son?" His fingers then pointed over my shoulder. Was he trying to tell me something? I turned around, and came face to face with a figure dripping with black substance. "Khaos?"

"Make a choice," the distorted voice said.

"What?"

"Do you want to stop Purgatory from being opened, or do you want to keep the natural order?" Again, expressions were hard to read on his shiny, dripping canvas of a face.

"Of course I want to stop them from opening Purgatory. Why wouldn't I? And what do you mean by natural order?"

"Your actions regarding this will ultimately determine whether the timeline is restored or changed. You see, your impact constitutes an aberration, since your presence _here_ is an aberration. But you have a choice in this."

I was engulfed by fury. This was unfair and offensive. "I am tired of hearing about how I don't belong here or how I'm not supposed to be here. What happened had to happen. God saved me! Why isn't that part of the natural order?" I was _so_ tired of having to think about this – of having to justify my existence. Whatever could be counted as Khaos' lips opened slightly, poised to answer. "You know what, don't say anything. I don't want to hear any more about this. Just take me to whoever's getting to Purgatory!" I fastened a cloth around my torso to carry Luciel.

"As you wish."

* * *

I was transported to a dimly-lit room. The back of his brown trench coat faced me.

" _Aperit fauces eius ad mundum nostrum_ ," Castiel recited. The giant gate sigil began to glow. I had to act fast. " _… nunc, ianua magna-"_

"Hey!" I interrupted, hurling him toward the wall on which the sigil was drawn. He smashed against it, causing some cracks to form in the wall. That had to be enough to disrupt the sigil.

His lips pursed and his forehead creased in frustration as he scrambled to get up. "How did you-" I blasted him with energy, injuring him. Grabbing onto his collar and raising him up to my eye level, I slammed his head against the wall with one hand as I held onto Luciel with another. Castiel groaned in pain and blood flowed from his nose and mouth.

"Now tell me," I pulled on his shirt to make him face me. "Is it true that Raphael and Crowley are now working together to do this as well?"

Now that the sigil was destroyed, the materials used up and the time of the lunar eclipse slipping away, Castiel wouldn't get another opportunity to open Purgatory again. Not for a while anyway. His expression suggested that he understood this. Resigned to his fate at my hands, Castiel answered, "Yes, but I gave them the wrong jar of blood." _Splendid._

"Hm. Then we still have a chance of delivering justice to them. So be a good little angel, and tell me where you've been keeping Rahab and Pahaliah. Then we'll stop Raphael and Crowley together just in time to finish the war," I proposed.

* * *

"Maybe I said it wrong," Crowley guessed, when nothing happened.

"Oh you said it well, but you need this," I announced as I dropped Castiel on the ground and set the empty jar of the required blood on the table. Bobby and Dean struggled to their feet, probably attacked by Crowley and Raphael on their way in. How was it that they kept showing up? "Too bad it's empty."

"This can't be…" Raphael stepped back. "I-I killed you!"

My lips turned upwards on one side. "Turns out you can't keep a mother from protecting her child." Dean looked at Castiel – who was now standing– confused as to what he was witnessing. "No one is getting anywhere near Purgatory. Not on my watch."

Crowley, now intrigued, approached the sigil and used a finger to get a smidge of blood. Tasting it, he identified its origin. "And we've been working with... Dog blood. Naturally."

Castiel and I raised our palms together. With him powered by souls and my own capabilities, we would be an unstoppable force together. The threatening glow of bright light from our palms gleaned as much. "Game's over, Raphael. It's between you and me, now," I addressed him.

"Sounds sexy," Crowley commented. "Exit stage Crowley." He fled.

Alarmed, Raphael looked between the thin air where Crowley stood previously and us. With just me, he could have stood a chance. But with the soul-powered angel under my command, we were a force to reckon with. "What's wrong, Raphael, somebody clip your wings?" Castiel taunted.

"I d-don't understand," Raphael stammered. "You let the demon go?"

"He'll get what's coming for him," I reassured him. "But right now, I want to save all my energy for you." I took a deep breath. I'd been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. Raphael had brandished an archangel blade – my archangel blade, the one he took from me when he tried to kill me – and held it up in a pitiful defence. I huffed with Schadenfreude. Black and purple streaks appeared in a narrow pole-like form as my own choice of weapon materialized within my arm – a trident. Not just any trident. It was the same one Raphael used to shove me into the vault.

A magnanimous sense of satisfaction coursed through me as I witnessed shock and fear congeal in Raphael's eyes. In that moment, Luciel cooed, slowly stirring between being awake and asleep. "That's right, Luc," I smiled as I rubbed his back gently with my free hand. "Revenge is sweet." Raphael, in an attempt to throw me off, hurled my own blade at me. Reflexively, my arm stretched out and summoned the grip of the blade to my hand. It truly was a gift that not many people knew about my blade's true capabilities. Instantaneously, I pulled the same motion, hurling the trident at Raphael. Unable to stop the motion of the giant weapon, he became victim to its agonizing pierce. With a loud grunt, he fell to his knees.

Castiel stepped forward to supplement my initial attack. "Cas," I threw the archangel cuffs at him. He caught them aptly and blasted Raphael again, forcing him against the wall. As I'd wished, Castiel cuffed Raphael, incapacitating him.

"What should we do with him?" Castiel turned to me.

"I'm going to take him back to Heaven," I responded.

"And me?" His blue eyes scanned my expression.

I paused. "I'm sorry it had to end this way," I apologised. The _Eye of Khaos_ glimmered brightly in my hand as I used it. Castiel gaped and helplessly let out a groan as all the souls he had flew to the crystal in a strong gust of wind. When the light died down, he was left with a quizzical expression.

"Wha-" I snapped my fingers. Castiel was no more than blood, guts and bits of angel grace splattered all over the walls and floor. Dean and Bobby looked on with frightened gazes. Dean's jaw dropped. This must've been nostalgic for them.

"Do you want an encore?" I threatened. "Get out of here." I didn't want anyone interfering in what I had planned for Raphael. Taking the cue, the two men took their leave. Now for my fun.

Raphael's hands trembled as they felt around. His eyes fluttered, struggling against the pain forcing his eyes to close. "Last words?" I asked as I knelt to his level, keeping my hand on the handle of the trident.

Raphael's lips twitched with effort. Through gritted teeth he spoke softly. "I thought my Father never made mistakes…" He laboured to say. "But I was wrong... You deceived him…"

 _This again?_ "I get it, Raph. You don't like me. You've spent all thirteen billion years letting me know."

Raphael chuckled shortly but his up-turned lips soon returned to the scowl that spat out blood. "Even your name isn't real!" His hand held onto my shoulder for support. "I tried everything I could… to erase your existence from the books… hide it from the humans…"

Well that explained a lot. "Why? Didn't want to use me as a villain like you people did with Lucifer?"

"I was trying to help Father…" His voice grew more strained. "God… he made a promise… he didn't want to keep… for you…" This time I had to lean in close to him to make out what he was saying. " _Adhya_ ," he whispered into my ear. It felt like bells had gone off in my head. What did that mean? Why did it mean anything to me? A strange aggression at the sense of not knowing crawled under my skin, threatening to explode. Something was being hidden from me, and I needed to know what it was. I wanted to shake some answers out of Raphael, but he was passed out from his leaking essence and no amount of slapping his face could return him to consciousness long enough for me to communicate with him.

* * *

The battle still raged on in Heaven. A booming thud resounded as a body slammed into the middle of the battleground. Everyone stopped and turned. There he was, Raphael, impaled and pinned to the ground by a magnificent trident. I descended, landing softly. While they looked on, I walked around to his head. Grabbing a fistful of hair, I jerked his head up and in a swift motion, my blade sliced through his throat, dismembering his form. His head was still dangling from my fist as I flew up above the angels and then sounded the horns for the end of war. The number of angels fighting for freedom outnumbered those that supported Raphael anyway. A triumphant grin plastered on my face, I tossed Raphael's head into the distance, not caring where it landed. The angels now looked at me with fear. If I wanted influence, this was my chance. But I remembered what Castiel said: that the angels wanted freedom, not to be ruled by others. If I forcibly assumed charge, a rebellion was bound to happen again and this war was evident.

I retrieved the trident and the cuffs, and humbly took my leave. I wanted to spend some time alone with my son anyway.

* * *

A/N:

I know we haven't heard from Sophia's vessel, Zara, in a while but we will soon. She is kind of a major character and I know I haven't written much about her but we'll find out soon who she is and why she chose the path she did.


	32. The Light of God

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 32: The Light of God**

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Bobby's House, South Dakota - The day after the Purgatory debacle, March, 2011**_

The last drop of whiskey left the bottle as Dean's head tilted back. He let out a short groan as the liquid burned in the back of his throat and he slammed the bottle on the table. "Got any more of this?" he asked Bobby, who paused shortly with a concerned look upon entering the room.

Bobby simply walked into the kitchen and returned with a fresh bottle of whiskey and two cups. "God knows we need this now more than ever," he responded, pouring them both some. Dean reached for the bottle and gulped a considerable volume of its contents in one go, oblivious to Bobby's coaxing not to. Both men then sat in silence - Dean staring intently into his half-filled cup and Bobby staring at anything but the inebriated man opposite him.

"Do you think Cas is gone, like _really_ gone?" Dean pondered.

"We both saw Sophia explode him, Dean," Bobby said, trying his best to keep the edge from his voice. _At least he's still talking._

"But he came back the last time," Dean retorted. "When Lucifer did the same thing." For all his faults, Castiel was still their brother-in-arms, and Dean chose to remember him this way. The whole of last year was a rollercoaster ride with Sam and Dean getting thrown about every which way by angels, demons and monsters. He was just so tired of it all. It started with him settling down with Lisa and Ben, who had been the only glimmer of hope in his sad, miserable life of self-sacrifice for the greater good. Then Sam came back, and Castiel went rogue. Everything went wrong so quickly that he barely had time to blink. And now Cas, his once-trusted friend, was dead, a victim of his own heroism. Somewhere deep inside, he hoped Cas was alive and that there was a chance to redeem him.

"Yeah, but that was almost instantaneous. He practically reappeared a moment after Lucifer killed him. Maybe that was the only time God was willing to intervene," Bobby speculated. As much as he wanted Castiel to be alive too, he had to be pragmatic. If not him, then who else?

The sound of footsteps shuffling caused them both to look up from the table. It was Sam, conscious again. When they went to stop Castiel's Purgatory plan, Sam had found his way to the lair but collapsed on the way in, groaning in pain and losing consciousness. In the process, his hand was pierced by a broken glass fragment from some glass jars that he knocked over, which was now covered by a bandage around his palm. Dean and Bobby had found him lying on the floor when they ran out on Sophia's order. They didn't know what to expect, considering that Castiel had 'broken' the wall in Sam's mind that kept him from remembering his time in the cage – all the bruising and battering he had to endure from sharing an enclosed space with two angry archangels. Rubbing his eyes with his uninjured hand, Sam leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. "Hey Dean," he greeted. "Bobby."

"Hey, you're walking and talking," Dean managed to crack a smile.

"Yeah. I, uh, put on my own socks, the whole nine."

Dean felt a load lifted off his chest, but it seemed too good. He had to be sure. "Well, that's uh... I mean you, uh, you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. My head hurts a little, but... yes, basically."

Bobby nodded in silent acknowledgement. It was great that Sam was up and looked healthy, but he knew better than anyone that things aren't usually what they seem on the surface. He had his doubts and worries, but he wanted to voice them to Dean when they were alone. After all, he had no reason to worry Sam with his scepticism if the kid was actually getting better. He didn't want to jinx it.

"Seriously?" Dean probed. He hoped to God this was real.

"Look man, I'm as surprised as you are but, yeah, I swear," Sam reassured him.

"Good! No reason putting a gift horse under a microscope, right?" Dean grinned, looking to Bobby for validation and Bobby simply nodded.

"So what happened with Cas?" Sam inquired.

Dean's smile faded almost as soon as it appeared. He averted his eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat that appeared every time he thought of his friend. Seeing this, Bobby took over. "Cas… didn't make it, Sam."

"What? How?" Sam pulled up a chair, wanting to hear more. His eyebrows creased with worry for the angel.

Bobby told him about Raphael and Crowley, and how Cas had given them the wrong jar of blood for the ritual. "And then Sophia showed up out of nowhere, with Cas," he elaborated. "Apparently she stopped Cas from completing the ritual and Cas decided to team up with her to take down Raphael at the last minute. But as soon as they got Raphael in cuffs, she… she freakin exploded him."

"Oh no," Sam remarked, a pang of loss filling his chest to hear about their fallen friend. "How did you two get out of there?"

"She let us go, Sam," Dean answered. "She told us to get the hell out of there. I still can't believe it."

"Must have had a pretty strong vendetta against Raphael if she spared us like that," Bobby postulated.

"I don't know about that, but all I know is that we still have one archangel walking the earth and she's Lucifer's… girlfriend or whatever," Dean spat out. "She may have spared us that one time but it don't mean she ain't evil."

"Not to mention that she showed up to stop Raphael with Lucifer junior," Bobby interjected. "Speaking of…" he got up and retrieved a bunch of newspaper clippings. "I know we just lost one battle but the world is still messed up," he prefaced as he spread the clippings out.

"Lay it on us, Bobby," Sam sighed as he read some of the headlines.

"Power outages, erratic weather, sudden heatwaves, it's almost like the apocalypse all over again," Dean summarised.

"Wait, this all started three days ago. That's the same time that…" Sam looked up at the two of them.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "When Sophia left after coming here. It's the baby. It has to be."

"That actually a thing? Freak weather showing when an archangel is born?" Dean wondered out loud.

Bobby shrugged. "Well it _is_ the child of two fallen angels so I wouldn't rule it out."

"How did this happen, huh? The whole of last year we'd been so focused on Crowley and Purgatory that we never even stopped to think about Sophia, another freakin archangel from Hell. If Cas knew, he never told us." Disappointment laced Dean's voice towards the end.

Sam stared down at the table. He knew exactly how it happened. He had been there, after all, when Lucifer and Sophia made that baby. Biologically, he fathered this child. He gulped, a jolt of anxiety spreading through him. He didn't want to remember the time he was possessed by Lucifer. A lot of horrible things happened and all through his hands. Although his memory remained patchy, Sam distinctly recalled the feeling of helplessness watching Lucifer manipulate his body for malicious acts. It was as though he was forced to witness a train wreck over and over again, behind a glass screen and tied down with invisible shackles. The whole thing felt like a nightmare that never ended up until the moment he was resurrected by Cas.

"From the way Sophia lashed out at Cas, it seemed like they had been working together against Raphael until Cas screwed her over," Bobby interjected. "Just another mistake Cas made."

The three of them fell silent. Dean's jaw clenched just thinking about the several bad decisions Cas had made, trusting the wrong people and taking the wrong sides. _If only the bastard had some faith in his friends…_ Dean thought. _Friends._ He felt his anger waver at the memories of Cas - the angel in a stupid trenchcoat and perpetual frown, the angel who tried his hardest to imitate human whims - defending him from the numerous monsters, demons and even angels that posed him harm. Loyalty seemed to come so instinctively to Cas whenever the Winchesters were concerned. To think that Cas would betray them (and for what? Power?) - it was too difficult.

"Screw this," Dean muttered under his breath as he got up. "If there's one thing I can fix, it's Baby."

"I'll come help you," Sam offered as he went to join his brother in repairing the Impala. This left Bobby alone to ponder on the implications of Sophia being free and having the child of Lucifer. _What would they want?_ Nothing good, his hunter instincts told him.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Sophia's house, Illinois - four days after the Purgatory debacle, March, 2011**_

They grow up fast. Being in Heaven, I could enjoy Gabe's slow growth from a little archangel to an older one over millennia but here on Earth, it was so different. Luciel took his first step today, a week after his birth. I had to be careful about where we stayed because the birth had attracted so much attention. There was a massive power outage in Illinois and three other states surrounding it when I had pushed him out. Having been so focused on the war and settling the tense situations I had to deal with, I hadn't even stopped to think about the amount of energy that was released in the process. During that one day I had gone into labour, reports of abnormal weather activity flooded in from all around the world, like earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes. At least Lucifer would be pleased to hear that his son carried on his torch of destroying the human race.

As for me, I couldn't care less so long as angels and what-have-you stayed out of my way. Every moment I spent with my son was a blessing. He was quiet for the most part and smiled sweetly when I held him close to me. Sometimes I sang to him so that he would fall asleep, since baby angels needed their rest. This was also the time that I deepened my connection with him. Most people didn't know, but I had this habit even during my life in Heaven whereby I slept in forests on tree branches. I wasn't actually asleep, but I was in a trance-like state where my attention was solely focused on reaching out to the life forms around me, namely trees and other forest creatures. I had become one with the forest using this method and I found that it worked even with angels – trying it out on Lucifer had made us realise that we shared such a profound bond that we fell in love. Likewise, while my son slept soundly with his head against my chest, I allowed myself to drift off to strengthen our bond and make him feel safe.

Luciel wasn't purely a force of destruction as the angels or even Lucifer would have thought. I could see from the way he looked at the world that he was like me, capable of creating beautiful things. This was what I saw today when he pulled himself to a standing position and his tiny foot thumped on the ground. The earth rumbled and threatened to quake but he didn't let it. Instead, a small depression formed around us and water sprung from where he struck it and flowed generously. It replenished the desert-like landscape of Arizona and brought relief to the thirsty creatures and heat-dried cacti. A small pond had formed. This amazed me. Whoever my son turned out to be, I knew I would be proud of him. Now it was only a matter to release his father from the cage.

* * *

 _ **The Next Day**_

"He's so adorable!" Pahaliah received Luc from my arms and kissed him on his chubby cheeks. I had invited the only people I could consider my friends over to officially celebrate my son's birth. It was nothing compared to a Heavenly celebration but it was still symbolic. Pahaliah looked tired, though she summoned all the strength she'd recovered to come to my house with Rahab. The sight of my son was enough to put her in a good mood, it seemed. I had half-expected her and Rahab not to come, considering all they'd been through with Castiel. I was lucky to have found them alive after I had coerced Castiel to reveal where he'd kept them in those last moments when he was dangerously close to opening Purgatory.

Though mad with desire for the power that Purgatory had to offer him, it turned out that Castiel did have a bit of a heart – must have rubbed off on him from the humans. He'd kept Rahab and Pahaliah alive in a locked room that was heavily warded in the basement of the lair, though Rahab was almost close to death. Apparently, Rahab had put up quite the fight against Castiel, even though he was up against an angel who was powered by the souls almost to the extent of matching an archangel's mojo. It must have taken Castiel a great amount of restraint to make sure he was alive and hurt him just enough to incapacitate him for a while. Castiel had hoped to use them as leverage against me when he'd defeated Raphael and needed to keep me under his thumb. When we found them, Pahaliah's face was tear-streaked from trying just about everything she could think of to keep Rahab alive during those precious few hours. She was quite traumatised and didn't speak for a good amount of time until Shemsiel used the same healing potion he'd used on me to heal Rahab and he'd regained consciousness. That was when she rained kisses on his face and they both finally admitted to having a liking towards each other. _"Finally!"_ Dinah had exclaimed.

"Gather around, everyone," Hassiel requested. He'd brought his camera with him. Luciel's adorable mutterings and garbles made sure we were all smiles and laughs. With Hassiel's guidance, the nine of us – which included Hassiel's two wonderful nephilim children – stood together with me in the centre holding Luciel in my arms. In five seconds, a click sounded and the camera captured our image.

"So… what did you name him?" Dinah's heavily-lined eyes bore into mine with curiosity while everyone fell silent, waiting for my response.

My mouth curved up into a soft smile. "Luciel. Luc, for short."

" _Light of God_?" Raziel translated.

"Yes, _Angel of Mysteries_ ," I replied.

"No offense, but I never thought you or your lover would have wanted anything to do with God," Rahab earnestly remarked.

I chuckled. "That is a valid inference. But he has his father's eyes and I am strongly convinced God wanted me to have this child, so take it as a tribute to the both of them."

"To _God's Light_ , then," Shemsiel raised his glass, and so did we. "May he usher in an era of prosperity for all of us." We clinked our glasses to his toast and downed our drinks, a special brew of _Anasikara,_ a party drink made for such celebratory occasions in Heaven (courtesy of Raziel, who turned out to have an expertise in mixology that surprised Shemsiel pleasantly).

"Damn, Raz, I could've saved money hiring you instead of a human if you worked at my beach club," Shemsiel commented, a compliment in his own way.

"Who is whose boss now?" Raziel retorted playfully.

"Please, you'd have to pay Raziel _more_ than you pay a human, with the skills he'd bring to the table," I chimed in. More laughter ensued.

More pictures were taken as the angels took turns to coddle Luciel. We sang songs we learnt in our youth to teach him about the origins of the universe and what Heaven used to be like. Rahab, who had remained silent owing to his injuries, mustered up strength to tell my son a story he'd heard when he was younger. Luciel, with his intense eyes and inquisitive gaze, merely looked on at Rahab with quiet attention. Hassiel's children, Sarah-Jane and Joseph, seemed to be learning quite a few things themselves. Being the overprotective parent, Hassiel hadn't let a single angel near his kids and I didn't blame him – God's soldiers didn't take too well to the idea of nephilim. Now the kids had a chance to meet uncles and aunts who actually cared about them and would do anything to protect them.

"So your father tells me you wish to move away," I started conversation with the elder nephilim.

Her light green eyes bore into mine with concern. "He told you about that, huh?"

"Hass is just worried, Sarah-Jane."

"I prefer just Jane, actually," she informed me. The urge to rebel was strong in this one. "I just want to make a name for myself and take care of myself. Dad's done so much for us already, and I can tell that the years of worrying about us gets to him sometimes. It's not that I don't care about him but… I just feel like I need to do this. Be on my own." We both glanced at Hass, who was engaged in conversation with Raziel.

"I was once like you, you know," I honestly replied, recalling the short but tumultuous time I had spent with my Mother in the beginning of time. "I'll try to convince your dad to let you have your way if you wish."

She jerked her head towards me. "You would do that?"

"But you have to promise that you'll call for me if you so much as _suspect_ that you're in danger. Got it?" I scribbled my number on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

She held the piece of paper with both her hands and eyed it with pleasant surprise before looking back up at me. In an unexpected turn, she threw her arms around me. "Thank you Aunt Sophia. Thank you so much." A warmth spread through my chest as I comfortingly rubbed her back, my hand running through her fiery amber curls.

The whole event was touching, even if only so few of us were here and in good spirits. These were my people, my kin, people who cared about me and people who I cared about. I couldn't imagine a life without them. They were my family. I couldn't have asked for better company, though I only wished Lucifer was here. A dull ache in my chest strengthened my resolve to find a way to free him.

* * *

Amidst all of this, being the Queen of Hell was tough and demanded more time of me than raising my son. Often, I found myself leaving Luc to Hassiel or Pahaliah while I went to Hell and dealt with the issues regarding souls and demon deals. Let's just say I felt superstitious about not wanting to bring Luc to Hell – after all, it was a place of eternal damnation, which Lucifer and I were banished to for things we had done. Luc was innocent in all of this and did nothing to deserve a trip to this place. I didn't want any part of Hell rubbing off on him. Maybe this was me holding onto an inkling of a desire to be redeemed that remained after all this time.

When I first fell, I remembered thinking Hassiel's freedom from perdition was my chance at redeeming myself from my guilt. Though I did not admit it to myself at the time, a part of me was angry at myself for disappointing God, though that was what Lucifer and I had set out to do in the first place. God saved me from Amara, after all. Maybe I felt like I still owed Him for that. And after everything God had done – leaving Lucifer to suffer from the Mark, punishing us for questioning His decision, banishing us from Heaven and imprisoning us on top of all that – the fact that He allowed me to have this child made me think that He wanted us to be happy after all this while. Maybe this was Him trying to mend our relationship. If it was, I wouldn't jeopardise it by leaving Luc open to Hell's influences. We all (the angels) missed God, even though some of us were less willing to admit that. I realised that this could be something Lucifer and I would disagree on, but that discussion would have to come later.

During this time that I returned to Hell, all clues leading to Crowley's whereabouts had led to a dead end, which was extremely vexing. How was it that this one demon kept avoiding detection? One of these days, he would slip up and I would come for him – I was counting on it. My visits to Hell were purely professional, to settle administrative matters. My initial zeal to keep the throne was slowly waning with every mention of paperwork and small decision that the demons were too dumb to make for themselves. At this point, I was just keeping the throne warm for Lucifer. How could he enjoy this?

"Your Highness?" A demon interrupted my train of thought. I looked up to see Timothy staring back at me. I had promoted him to be my right-hand demon on the grounds of having worked with him during the Apocalypse and the admission from him that he had been the one to tamper with Crowley's supply of holy oil to aid my escape. Pleased and touched by his initiative, I kept him in a position of considerable power and trust. He basically covered for me whenever I couldn't make it to Hell or just didn't want to.

"Hm?" I beckoned him to go on.

"We have what you asked for." He passed me a printed report. I usually gave jobs like these to the _Nalkam_ but I suspected they would want no part of this and I wouldn't force them to partake in work they didn't want to be associated with. This report compiled all there was to be known about the _Book of the Damned_ , save for the contents of the mysterious book itself. It seemed like the best shot at getting Lucifer out of the cage so I was going to be deadly serious about finding it.

"This is good work. I am pleased," I thanked him. He cracked a relieved smile, adjusting his tie restlessly before bowing and taking his leave.

* * *

A/N:

Hey guys! Thanks for reading so far. I would really appreciate some feedback so it would be nice if you could drop a review or a PM. Tell me what you think of the story so far, whether you like where it's going, what you want to see more/less of, or you could ask me questions too. Your feedback really helps improve my writing and keeps me thinking! :)


	33. The Book of The Damned

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Hey guys! So you might have noticed that by now, we're going totally off-canon. With Purgatory closed, there are no Leviathans running free so the Winchesters finally get a break (or do they hmmmm?). And Cas was killed two chapters ago but the real question is how long will he stay dead? Meanwhile Sophia is raising a cute adorable archangel child who I love as my own son. Who will this child turn out to be? I have an idea but there's still a long way to go for that. Of course, Sophia's life isn't complete with her soulmate so she becomes fierce and determined in the quest to open that damned cage. Also when I say we're going off-canon, it doesn't mean that all of the things that happened on the show won't happen. Some will, but not quite in the same time frame or order or circumstances. I hope you guys enjoy this ride as much as I do

 **Chapter 33: The Book of the Damned**

 _ **Hell – 2 June, 2011**_

" _The Book of the Damned is one of the most obscure occult texts in history. Its very existence had been but a rumour for centuries, until it was discovered by King James I of England in 1605 during the famous witch trials that swept throughout Europe. The book was found to be in the possession of cults and covens, who circulated it around to learn from its mysteries._

…

 _Unfortunately, the book was written in a near-indecipherable language that hid most of its teachings from inexperienced and young witches._

…

 _King James I, upon realising the occult significance of the book, sent for it to be safely guarded by the Vatican in 1605, which was a favour accepted by Pope Leo XI. This was the last known location of the book, before it was transferred to an unnamed Spanish monastery and went missing thereafter."_

I closed the report and leaned back against the chair in Hell's study, resting my head against its spine as I closed my eyes in thought. I could embark on a search for the book and trace it now, or I could go back in time to 1605 to get the book. Finding it in this century would require a lot of time and effort, especially with dead leads. On the other hand, going back in time that far would require me to push through a lot of resistance, considering that I was on Earth at the time, trapped deep underwater. That kind of paradox tended to generate as much celestial resistance as two like poles of a magnet being forced together, though it was not impossible. Moreover, taking an artefact out of its time would constitute an alteration to the time stream and we all saw how the Fate sisters took to that when Castiel saved the Titanic. Perhaps I could just pop in for a short while to look at the relevant pages. With an angelic memory, I could remember whatever was written in the book without needing to refer to it again. To 1605 it is.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Bobby's House, South Dakota – 2 June 2011, 7.45am**_

Sam lay asleep on Bobby's couch, his eyes serenely shut. The weather was warming up this time of year as summer was beginning soon in South Dakota. That made everything just a little more cozy than normal, and with them finally catching somewhat of a break away from monsters, it was _just right_ for him to fall into a deep slumber. Except, of course, for the fact that the petulant voice of his Lucifer hallucination could show up any moment.

"Hey. Wake up, sunshine. Up and at 'em, atom man," the voice said into his ear. He slowly stirred awake, his eyes crunching with reluctance to open.

"Sammy." This time the voice was more comforting and familiar. It was Dean, who gently pressed against his younger brother's chest to wake him. "Sammy, hey-"

Sam shot up, his limbs jerked awake. Some part of him half-expected to see nothing but darkness and the fear-inducing figure of Lucifer before him, but he soon calmed down upon seeing the caring apple-green eyes of his brother.

"Whoa. That's twelve hours straight, I'm calling that rested. Here." Dean handed him some water and a protein bar. "Hydrate, and uh, protein-ate."

"Breakfast in bed," Sam commented, before gulping down a mouthful of water and beginning on the protein bar.

"Don't get used to it. Let me see that hand." Dean took Sam's hand and undid the bandage, carefully inspecting the wound.

"Oh, he wants to hold your widdle hand. How sweet," 'Lucifer' mocked.

"Eh, you'll live. Here," Dean poured whiskey over the wound. Sam winced from the stinging pain. "Alright, take it easy."

"So… Lucifer junior. Any leads?" Sam began as Bobby entered with fresh bandages.

"So far, nothing. I thought it was localised to Illinois based on the freak weather, but just yesterday a pond sprung out in the middle of the Arizona desert out of nowhere," Bobby informed them.

"A pond? Doesn't seem like our thing…" Dean was puzzled.

"It is when you consider that the water was freshwater, which isn't usually found in the salty Arizona landscape, and then add on to that a freakin' garden growing outwards from the pond. According to what little lore I could scrap up on Sophia, she helped God create nature on the Earth, even lending her essence to the Tree of Knowledge," Bobby explained. "Book of Wisdom," he cited as his source. "Sounds like her thing."

" _The_ Tree?" Sam pondered. "The Forbidden Fruit Tree?"

"That's the one."

"What a babe…" 'Lucifer' sighed, a flirtatious relief evident in his voice. "I'd tap that. Already have, actually. You remember, right?"

"So she's moving around," Dean posited. "But even if we do find her, what would we do, Bobby? We can't kill her. Do we want to kill the kid?"

"That's what I can't wrap my head around," Bobby confessed. "She's been out and about for the past year and we barely even heard from her. We don't know what she wants. If it's mass destruction, this is the first of it."

"What about those trees?" Sam interjected. "Remember we kept hearing from hunters about these freaky trees with corpses hanging on them? That was a little over a month ago."

"You think it's connected to Sophia somehow?" Dean probed.

"It's just a hunch, but if she works with nature a lot this fits the MO. And these trees popped up all over the country in such a short period of time. What has that kind of anger and juice?"

"Archangel definitely tops the list of suspects," Dean answered. "We should go hit up our contacts and see what they get. And while we're at it, we should find a way to gank her or at least trap her."

"I'll get on it," Bobby offered and went over to his desk.

Dean watched him get up, and then turned back to Sam. "Now onto our other big problem. How're you doin'? And do not say okay."

"I'm not okay," Sam admitted. Dean and Bobby had noticed by now his strange behaviour. Staring at things that weren't really there, sleeping longer than usual, going into dazes – it was starting to freak him out too. He needed help. And so began the conversation about his vivid hallucinations.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

I carefully sensed the time stream. It was like a gentle river, flowing smoothly. I imagined time travelling to be like walking further upstream. The world warped around me as I flew back in time, looking for 1605. My hand extended outwards to reach it. That was when I saw the strangest thing. A bright red light engulfed me and for a moment, I wasn't in control of my flight anymore. I was flung across space and time, unable to see where I was going. And then _thud._ I landed.

Shaken, I got up and observed the world around me. A full moon was up in the dark night sky. _Where the hell am I?_ My eyes scanned the sandy landscape around me, the only thing inhibiting my clarity at the moment being a blurry after-image in my mind. I was atop a hill in the middle of a desert. Cacti peppered the land and sand dunes lazily rolled about in the cool wind of the cloudless night. This definitely wasn't the Vatican City in 1605. Waiting it out, the fuzziness in my head cleared and I could sense my surroundings more clearly. This place was eerily familiar.

Mesopotamia, 2000 BC – much further than I had wanted to travel. This was where Eden used to be. Once plentiful and abundant with flora, fauna and just about everything Man, in his early days, needed to live luxuriously, this land was cursed with a barrenness that permitted a limited agriculture when God banished Eden to Purgatory and cursed Man with mortality. It was truly a tragedy that all that nature had gone to waste but I was one to speak – I had caused it. But why was I here? What went wrong?

Getting a better sense of where I was, I looked towards where the Tree of Knowledge used to be. The tree cursed with my essence. It was no longer here but in its place, I saw a dull red glow. It was the same shade of red that blinded me on my journey here. And that's when recognition struck me – it was a corrupt fragment, like the one I had encountered in space which pulled me into the void where I met Khaos. I felt a shiver crawl under my skin just thinking about it. The normal fragments which returned knowledge to me were white but these glowed a deep shade of red that seemed to warn me to stay away. But if this was Khaos again, I had met It already and had nothing to be afraid of. Khaos didn't seem like It wanted to hurt me the last two times. Then again, I had a hard time deciphering who Khaos was or what It felt towards me. The time I got sucked into the red fragment, It seemed to be threatening me, and then the time in the lab and in Heaven It was helping me. So would this be a threatening experience, or a friendly one? Only one way to find out.

Cautiously, I flew towards the fragment and came upon what looked like a monastery. Like a ghost, I wandered through the hallways, invisible to the few humans that walked about. They were mostly asleep, save for a few engaged in prayer. These were Sumerians, who were polytheists though they would later be the first to write down the story of Creation which was altered over time to include their polytheistic vision in the _Enuma Elish,_ the seven tablets of creation. The story was somewhat accurate, with references to Adam and Eve, the tree of knowledge, and even the serpent, except the serpent, Enki, was not considered evil – a truism that was later rejected by the Jews and so on.

Though the fragment was so close to the monastery, its energy seemed to be flowing in one direction. Following it, I entered the basement where I found a locked door. No one had been down here in a while, judging by the build-up of dust. Past that locked door, I found the reason why I had been summoned here. Warmth and light emanated from a small hearth on the far wall. The room was empty with the exception of writing materials – a quill, a pot for holding ink and weaving materials needed for sewing – and some buckets of water with wash cloths. There sat Agnes, knife in hand. She wasn't alone. The still, lifeless body of another woman lay beside her.

The information gathered by my demons suggested that Agnes had used her own skin and blood to make the Book of the Damned but what I saw before me implied a different story. The dead woman was bare, chunks of her skin missing. The bloody meat underneath showed like raw, uncooked animal guts, all red and chunky. But the blood belonged to Agnes herself – she bled into the pot from her own wrist. As soon as she had enough, she began furiously scribbling away on her parchment. I peered into the buckets. Just as I had suspected, she used wooden frames to stretch out the chunks of skin she cut out from her generous donor and wash them in water and some kind of preservative. At this age, Sumerians were still using stone tablets to write and parchment hadn't been invented yet, so Agnes was way ahead of her time in her choice of writing medium.

This was convenient. I had set out to find the Book of the Damned, and it seemed that Khaos led me right to it. I supposed it should have been obvious that a book as valuable and full of cosmic secrets like this one would have involved the fragments, a celestial source of knowledge. I stayed there for hours, watching as Agnes meditated and pulled information from the fragment.

"Quite diligent, isn't she?" a voice said.

"I didn't expect you to be a part of this," I replied, without bothering to turn. Khaos had become predictable by this point. "I thought you were against releasing dangerous information to humans."

"I wouldn't consider _this_ to be 'dangerous'."

"A how-to guide on breaking curses as old as the Mark of Cain, the cage that holds The Darkness. How is that not dangerous?" I shot back quizzically. When I thought more about it, the answer became clearer to me. "Of course, you don't think it's 'dangerous' unless it affects _you_ , isn't that right?"

"They don't call you Wisdom for nothing. But you can't really hold it against me, can you? A lonely being like me, I can only look out for myself. And maybe you." I took in a deep breath. It seemed dubious that Khaos seemed to be expressing any sort of concern for me. Considering that It wanted something from me that It didn't reveal as of yet, this just felt creepy, like It was showering me with gifts and affection before dropping something bad before me. Even then, being as powerful as It was, why would It care about what I thought or felt?

"Then tell me this: what are you to God and Amara, huh? Brother? Sister?"

Khaos let out a laugh. "Something like that. But I have no gender. I am that from which polarity is generated. I cannot be polar myself. But you may choose for me a pronoun that is convenient for you, if that is what you wish."

"So you are something like a sibling to the both of them, yet I have never seen or heard of you coming between the both of them in their squabbles."

"I do not take part in the petty rivalry between my younger siblings. Although, if you ask them, you might be surprised to find that they are both united in their dislike for me."

 _Hm._ Was that a good thing or bad? "And why's that?"

Khaos simply shrugged. "Beats me. I think I'm great. An impartial observer of things."

As the night came to an end, the strength of the fragment dissipated. Agnes was done writing. Her eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights and exhaustion seemed to be tugging on her shoulders from the lengthy isolation, starvation, dehydration and loss of blood. Yet she laboured on, sewing the pages together with her own hair. When she finished the whole process, Khaos went near her and whispered something in her ear. She smiled with relief and closed her eyes, like she was going to sleep. Khaos then took her head in Its hands and a hole opened up on the black goopy mess of a face where Its mouth should be. A wisp of bright blue light flowed from Agnes into It. It was taking her soul and her life force away and her head fell back as death overcame her.

"Now's your chance to take a look at it," Khaos gestured towards the book. "You know I can't let you take it with you."

"Sure." I flipped through the book. It was written in Sumerian, which at this point was already an obscure language. The Sumerians had shifted to using Akkadian as a spoken and written language, with Sumerian only being used for religious and liturgical texts, much like Latin in the twenty-first century. There was an impressive collection of spells, all of which I was delighted to be able to study in this moment. But I came for one thing only and I did find it – a cage projection spell. This spell would allow me to project Lucifer's consciousness out of the cage while keeping him still entrapped. This wouldn't be enough, but there was a loophole. If Lucifer was bound to an earthly being, he could avoid getting sucked back into the cage, or existing as separate parts. I knew what I needed. I needed Sam Winchester – he was the true vessel and could guarantee him a safe passage out of the cage.

"Why did you bring me here? I could have just found the book in the Vatican and I would have learnt the same things," I inquired.

"I wanted you to know about my involvement," Khaos responded, its amorphous face shuffling into what I supposed was a smile. "I thought if you could see how closely we are associated, we could build on a beautiful friendship."

I was taken aback by this. "Let me get this straight. You have some kind of debt you hold over me to get what you want, but you also want to be friends?"

"I don't think our professional affairs should stand in the way of us being friends."

"But why would someone like you need _me_ as a friend?"

"Because we understand each other." I waited for It to elaborate. "You see, knowledge or _information_ , is the code of the universes. It is the stuff of creation. You understand it better than anyone. Tell me, do you recall knowing anyone who worships knowledge as much as you?" I tilted my head to think. "You were the first one. The first and true disciple of knowledge, receiving its gifts since the moment you were created. And I am the one who balances creation. Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Masculine and Feminine. I balance these forces. It is knowledge that permits me to do so. Do you see now?"

Something changed in me, to hear Khaos say this. No one had ever talked to me about something so personal as this. I could sense that, beyond Its shadowy form, beyond Its words, there was an understanding there about who I was, what I could do. Things I couldn't imagine. I was suddenly so curious. I wanted to know more. "I do," I told It. I wanted to say more, to ask questions, but I didn't know where to begin. All I could manage was a simple reply.

"I want you to _know,_ Sophia, that you can always come to me. For anything." Its long, thin fingers stroked my cheek. I looked into Its eyes. They seemed to reassure me. "Go home now. Luciel must miss his mother." As I remained staring into the deep abyss of Khaos' eyes, the world around me changed. I was snapped out of my daze and looked around to see that I was back in my house and Khaos was nowhere to be found.

* * *

I sat on the couch, pulling my legs up to my chest and staring out of the front door at the colourful field out front. I didn't know what to think of what I just saw. I knew Khaos wanted me to trust It and confide in It. It would feel right to do so, considering that It seemed to understand me on a level that no one else did. I felt like Khaos fulfilled a need that I never knew I had. But it all seemed too easy. There had to be a catch, right?

"Mama!" Luc exclaimed as he ran towards me. I picked him up eagerly, hugging him close to me. I had just gone to visit Pahaliah, who was helping me babysit. She excitedly reported to me news of his progress – he was picking up languages at an incredible pace. He had just begun to speak, but he was well-able to understand what everyone around him was saying since he was born. His wings were also growing healthily, which I was happy to see. They were so soft and fluffy, though one day he could control them to be as sharp as daggers.

"Did you cause any trouble today?" I asked him playfully. He gave me an uncertain look, ready to laugh it off as fun and play. I tickled his tummy, causing him to erupt in bubbly laughter. His cheeks grew rosy with laughter and I couldn't help but rain kisses on them. Being such an active child, he kept running around. Every time he jumped, I had to make sure he didn't smash the earth below him. Having such great power, he didn't know how to control them just yet. I needed someone to watch him all the time because of this. A daunting task, I know, but one look at that adorable little face could stop stars from exploding or planets from colliding. Finally, when I was tired of chasing him through the meadows, I rested him against my chest and sang to him a slow melody. The sound of my voice was enough to put him to sleep. His tiny hands slipped from my shoulder as I went back into the house and gently laid him down on the bed to sleep.

I brushed the dark brown hair on his scalp, silently observing his peaceful slumber. There was nothing more fulfilling in the world. It seemed like a good time to get started on gathering materials I needed for the spell. As I turned around, I felt the brush of ancient magic against my skin and tensed up. Dark wisps of smoke appeared before me and a familiar figure emerged.

"Oh, it's you," I recognised. "Death."

"It is," he replied blandly.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me," I confessed.

"You mean after your boyfriend tried to enslave me? You would be right in thinking that." His accusatory eyes narrowed at me. He held his cane in front of him, left hand resting on its handle and his right on the left.

"But if you're here… something's wrong." Death had a track record of showing up in my life whenever I had done something I shouldn't have and gave me cryptic advice on what I should do, never giving me any directions specific enough to be helpful.

"What, I can't just pop by to see the little one? I'm offended you wouldn't permit me that courtesy." He averted his eyes in disappointment.

I stood protectively between him and Luc. "As long as you aren't here to hurt him…"

"Child, I have no interest in hurting anyone. On the contrary, I prefer not being disturbed and not disturbing anyone, unless I have good reason to. Which brings me to why I'm here." I eased up, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and beckoning Death to do the same. He obliged, continuing, "I know about Khaos. You've been seeing Him around a lot, haven't you?"

"Him?"

"Him, Her, It, They, He doesn't care what you call Him."

"I have. What's it to you?"

"You can't trust Him." Death eyed Luc as he slept before returning his gaze to me.

"Wow, that's the most specific advice you've ever given me."

"I'm serious."

"What's _He_ to you, anyway? God and Amara, I get. But you?"

"He created me when God and Amara awoke to life. Which event came first, I don't remember."

I gasped. "Does that make us… _cousins_?"

"In a way, I suppose it does." That's the strangest thing I had ever heard – forget meeting Khaos. I always thought of Death like a father or an uncle figure, but never a cousin. He was just so old. "But I digress. What did Khaos tell you about Himself?"

"He balances the polar forces."

Death smirked. "Is that what He told you? _Balance,_ eh? More like manipulate."

I exhaled. I didn't want to tell him about the friendship part. He would just scoff at it more. "If He wanted to manipulate me, He wouldn't have to get on my good side. He holds some sort of debt over me and could easily use it to get me to do whatever He wants."

"Be careful with your scepticism. Have I ever given you advice to lead you astray?" Death held my doubtful gaze, searching for an honest reflection on my part.

"No, but you have been terribly unhelpful, no matter what your intention was. Where were you when I fell? Where were you when they trapped me in the vault?"

"Hm. It's funny you bring up the vault. I'll have you know that it was Khaos who constructed it and sealed it. Do you think this is the same being who means well for you in any way? Would Lucifer feel that way about God?"

He made sense. Why was I unable to see the double-play here? I guess there wasn't enough history between Khaos and I for me to see it clearly. Or for my perception to be tainted by emotion. But what was His motive here? "Why don't you tell me about this debt. Tell me what I am indebted to Him for."

"That, my dear, isn't information for me to tell."

I threw my hands up. "Of course it isn't. Then whose is it?"

Death remained silent.

"Was it God?" I remembered Raphael telling me that God had made some kind of promise for me, one that He would not keep, apparently. Was this it?

Death still didn't say anything.

"Fine, don't tell me." I got up and walked over to the balcony.

A cool breeze blew in from the east. Death appeared next to me, hands clasped behind his back. "I know you may not be inclined to believe me right now, but you will see for yourself soon just who He is. I just want to make sure you understand what you're getting into with Khaos. Give junior a kiss for me." With that, he was gone.

I sighed. I didn't know what to think anymore. I wished I could be clearer on this. "God," I prayed, staring into the distance. "If you're listening, we need to talk. I don't know what's happening. Whatever it is you did for me, you need to let me know. It's only fair." I waited. Nothing happened. No voice, no presence, no sign – nothing. "Please." Still nothing. Should've known this would be useless.

* * *

A/N:

There we have it, God being unresponsive as usual. But maybe this time it's for a good reason, though not a fair one. I know I'm majorly hinting at a confrontation between the two, but unfortunately we won't see that until it's too late (all will be explained in due time). And regarding Khaos, I will say that there are many facets to who He is i.e. He isn't always menacing/nice and this is because you can't really conceive of Him as one being but rather as an amalgam of many. I am also using the Him/His pronouns for Khaos because I thought It/Its would be confusing and this is merely for convenience sake, not that Khaos minds at all. We'll soon find out what His deal is with Sophia and I guarantee heartbreak. Sorry in advance.

Clearly, I did my research in writing this chapter. I am a huge nerd for history and religion and tbh this whole fic is based on my obsession with learning more about Gnosticism, hence the references to it dispersed throughout this fic, like those fragments of light I keep talking about (Gnostics refer to creation as the result of Sophia's error in trying to know God, but here I refer to humanity's ability to innovate and discover new things as a result of these fragments), the books that Sophia reads in Hell, etc.

Also I really enjoyed writing about Sophia being a mother and Luc being a child. It's just so pure and fulfilling to write. You might be wondering how long he'll be a baby/toddler – not long, but those precious few moments when he's just a kid are so special. And I'm warning you – he's an intelligent kid. He may even surprise his parents at times. Finally, even when it seems like Sophia would be so done with the Winchesters, she has no choice but to cross paths with them once again so let's see how that goes.


	34. The Winchester I Needed

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This episode refers heavily to The Girl Next Door, S7E3. Note that since Purgatory wasn't opened, no Leviathan burned down Bobby's house. I've altered the details of the episode accordingly and any deviations from canon could be attributed to the altered timeline. I also thought it would be interesting to see Sophia's commentary on the relationship between Sam and Dean, so excuse the constant references to their conversations.

 **Chapter 34: The Winchester I Needed**

 _ **Bobby's House, South Dakota – 25 June 2011, 9.30pm**_

"Sam's chasing a what?" Bobby asked quizzically on the phone, as he sat at his desk. I had come to his house in search of Sam, but neither Winchester was here. Only their adoptive father, who appeared to be engaged in a call with Dean.

" _A Kitsune. It's pretty rare. Dad and I hunted one back in '98_ ," I heard Dean answer. _"Just met the coroner and the vics had their pituitary glands sucked out."_

"Vaguely rings a bell…" Bobby crinkled his nose, straining to remember.

" _Yeah, didn't make our highlight reel."_

"Well, least now we know he's working a job in Bozeman," Bobby reassured Dean. _Bozeman… Montana,_ I noted.

" _Yeah, but why pull the Houdini act?"_

"Not a clue. What are you gonna do when you catch up?"

" _I got a few ideas,"_ Dean said before cutting the call. He would be in Bozeman right now, in proximity to the coroner's office. It wouldn't take that long for me to find him.

 _ **The Impala, Bozeman, Montana - 25 June 2011, 9.53pm**_

Dean tapped his fingers along to the beat of a song on the steering wheel as he drove along the road, solely illuminated by the streetlights at this hour. " _We are the Sultans of Swing,_ " he sang while grooving to the classic rock riff. I sat quietly, invisible, in the backseat of his rented car. He seemed to be upset that his brother stole his car, a polished piece of work that had a special place in my vessel's memory. I watched as he surveyed a number of motels and inns, asking the receptionists if they had spotted a large man with shoulder-length hair, even displaying a photo of Sam. This was interesting – just watching a human as he went about his daily business, considering the reaction it would evoke if I made myself visible to him. Without the Winchesters' guard-dog Castiel around, this was a lot easier. The things I could learn by just watching! I'd know their every move and what they intended. Such power felt glorious, like I could screw with them whenever I wanted. Then again, this was the reason why I was entrusted to protect knowledge from getting into the wrong hands. So that people with thoughts like these couldn't get their way. But that made me all the more powerful, didn't it?

Finally, Dean found the motel where _Lars Ulrich_ was staying, an alias that Sam used. Thanking the receptionist for her help, he found the room and picked the locks, getting in. He browsed through Sam's notes for a while, when keys jingled outside the door. Dean stood poised near the door as it opened, before he straight-up clocked his brother in the face and knocked him backwards. _Tough love, eh?_

"Howdy Sam," he greeted, as Sam groaned and got up. They both entered the room, Sam touching his forehead to feel where Dean struck him and Dean walking in furiously. "New rule: you steal my baby, you get punched." I'd feel the same way too if someone took something I'd worked hard to maintain away from me like that. Learn some manners, Sam. "The hell were you thinking, Sam, running off like that?" he nagged as Sam reached into a fridge for a cold can to decrease the swelling. "I mean, for all I know, Satan could have been callin your plays." _Come again?_

"Dean, look, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine," Sam argued.

"Oh yeah, no, you're a poster boy for mental health. You have any idea the horror shows I have going on in my head?"

"Dean, I left you a note. There was a job in town."

"A Kitsune," Dean identified. "Yeah, I know. And you ignore Bobby and I's phone calls why, exactly?" _Ooh, the cold shoulder. That's gotta hurt._

"Because I wanted to take care of it. And I did. I took care of it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Where's the body?" Dean probed.

Sam hesitated, pursing his lips as Dean approached. "There is no body," he admitted. _The plot thickens._

"Why not?"

"Because I let her go. She's gone."

"You what?" Dean frowned. "Why?"

Sam recounted a memory while Dean listened patiently. He told his brother that he knew this creature from they were young and how she had saved his life while his own father and brother were hunting her mother. A touching tale, really, about how bonds of friendship could be formed across species. Much like between Dog and I, the hound that I adopted the night I went in search of shapeshifters.

"You never told me that," Dean complained when Sam finished.

"I never told anyone," Sam confessed. "I mean can you imagine what Dad would have done?"

Dean stared at the ground in thought, keeping his arms folded and leaning against a table where he stood. "So you saw the article in the newspaper and you just bolted?"

"It was my mess."

"And you call letting her go cleaning it up?"

"She killed her own mom, Dean, to save me," Sam reasoned.

"I hear you Sam, I do. But look at her now. She's dropping bodies man. Which means we got to drop her, no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid. I'm sorry, but it's that simple."

"Nothing in our lives is simple," Sam remarked. _Spoiler: It's about to get even less simple._

"Look, man, I get it, okay? You meet a girl, you feel that spark, there's nothing better. But this freak?"

Sam slammed his can on the table, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. _Yeah, what the hell, Dean? His feelings are valid._

"I didn't mean…" Dean began to make an excuse.

"Yeah, you did," Sam stopped him.

"I see the way you look at me, Dean, like I'm a grenade and you're waiting for me to go off." I still didn't get this part. Was there something wrong with his sanity? Would make sense since he got his soul back from the freakin cage and I specifically told Lucifer to go hard on him.

"Sam…"

"I'm not going off. I might be a freak, but that's not the same as dangerous." _Aw._ I had to admit that I did feel a little bit of sympathy for him. This scenario was oddly similar to the time Lucifer got the Mark. He slowly slipped into insanity and everyone, including his own brothers and Father, lost their faith in him and I couldn't bear to see that happen. It must have been sad to see the people you thought you could count on lose hope in you like that. My mission could have a mutual benefit for the both of us after all.

"I didn't say…" Dean started.

"It's okay. Say it," Sam prompted. "I've spent a lot of my life trying to be normal, but come on, I'm not normal. Look at all the crap I've done. Look at me now. I'm a grade-A freak. But I'm managing it. And so is Amy."

"Is she? How?"

"She works in a damn funeral home so she doesn't have to kill anyone, Dean. She's figured out how to deal."

"Okay, well, then explain the bodies."

"She's done," he stated as a matter-of-fact. "Her freakin kid was dying, Dean. Put you or me in her position, we'd probably do the same thing." _Or me._ "Look, you don't trust her. Fine. Trust me." The look on Dean's face said everything I needed to know. It was that _I-get-you-but-you're-wrong-on-this-one_ look. A look that conveyed pity and a lack of respect for someone's decision. Something I'd seen way too many times.

Whatever he'd decided, Dean eased his shoulders and gave a half-nod. "Okay," he relented.

"Seriously?"

"Got to start sometime, right?" _That's a load of crap._ I could tell. But Sam believed it.

* * *

 _ **Spokane, Washington – 26 June 2011, 11.23am**_

The next morning, they stopped over at a town called Spokane before planning to go back to Bobby's later that day. I know I could have nabbed Sam in his sleep, but I was genuinely curious how this would play out. Was Dean really going to let this go? I was as hooked onto this drama as a human to a television show. Dean, asking Sam to check into a motel, went off to "get the pie that didn't make it". Noting the room number, I caught up with Dean's Impala, which was stationed outside another motel. I'd barely entered the room when I spotted him, standing over the body of a woman I assumed was Amy. He pulled out a knife from her chest, revealing a wound that had been fatal to her. _Just… wow._ I had my suspicions but to see them confirmed like this… I couldn't decide if I felt sorry for Sam because his brother went behind his back to undo his choice, or glad that Sam had reason to accept the comforting embrace of angel possession.

Either way, the one who suffered most from Dean's inability to trust his brother stood at the doorway, observing with a murderous rage building inside him – Amy's son. This saddened me deeply. Amy wanted nothing but the best for her son and here he was, orphaned right before his eyes. What that must do to a child… I felt contempt for Dean bubbling up within me as the boy swore to avenge his mother's death. Well, now was a good time as any to get what I came here for.

Before Dean could reach the motel, I got to Sam and flew him to the dark confines of my basement.

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 26 June 2011, 12.42pm**_

"W-What the hell?" he exclaimed as he looked around himself in shock.

"Hello again, Sam," I greeted him.

He jerked, turning toward me. The room was dark, save for the little sunlight that entered through the small panels of glass near the ceiling.

" _You,_ " he recognised, heaving breaths of panic. I could hear the sound of his heart pounding faster and even smell the adrenaline pumping in his body. _Ah,_ _the sweet smell of fear._

"Do not be afraid, Sam. I don't want to hurt you," I comforted him.

"Right, because you didn't want to hurt me the last time either…" he shot back.

"Desperate times," I waved it off.

"Where am I?" he growled.

"Safe. I just want to talk." I took a few steps toward him but he pulled out his gun. "You know that won't work on me, right? Eh, whatever makes you comfortable."

"Whatever you're doing, my brother will find you," he threatened.

"I doubt it. He's busy not trusting you."

His head tilted, confused.

"I know about Amy and-"

"Have you been spying on us?"

I sighed. "Semantics…" I shook my head. "That's not the point. She's dead, Sam." His eyebrows furrowed. "Dean 'cleaned up your mess'," I told him, holding up my fingers in air quotes.

His shoulders fell. Obviously, he was bothered by this. Returning his gaze back to me, he tightened his grip on the trigger. "What do you want?"

"Straight to the point, then. Your consent. I need you to say 'yes' to Lucifer," I revealed.

He huffed, like this was the silliest thing he'd heard. "No!"

"You've done it once before."

"Yeah, because I was gonna haul his ass back into the cage," he scoffed. "And it _worked._ "

Fury boiled up in me when he said this and I impulsively flung him to the side. He hit a pillar and fell, coughing and groaning as he clutched his side. My fists clenched just thinking about this utter betrayal. Lucifer may have hated humans, but he treated Sam with respect, just like I did with Zara. Without our vessels, we would be limited in our capacity to go about our business and we valued them as much. Lucifer was supposed to be his realisation of a destiny chosen for him ages ago – it was a truth to be attained. How could he just forsake it like that? And then gloat about it?

I picked him up by the collar and pressed him up against the pillar. "Listen to me, you mud monkey. You can either say 'yes' now, or I can make a really convincing case with my blades."

"Go to hell," he spat out.

"I could take you with me. Haven't you heard? I'm the Queen of Hell. I bet the demons would have a great time picking you apart inch by inch," I taunted through gritted teeth.

His jaw clenched, still reeling from the pain. Wasting no time, I brought out a torture table and strapped him to it.

"You know what, I think I'd like to have all the fun myself," I said. "I may not have tortured a human enough to turn one into a demon, but I like to think I've learnt a lot by watching Lucifer do it."

He struggled. The straps rattled as he tried to pull free of them with his wrists and ankles. Before I started, I sat at the edge of the table next to his abdomen, placing a hand on his chest and feeling his heart racing.

He looked at me, puzzled, unsure of what I would do next. I lay my head on his chest and extended my awareness, trying to find a connection with him. His body tensed up when I did this. "Why are you making this more difficult than it has to be, Sam?"

My eyes glowed and tendrils of green extended from me to him. As I felt his inner being like my own, I sensed the tiredness in his muscles and the exhaustion in his mind. It must have been from everything that happened over the last year, not to mention the betrayal by his brother that I just revealed to him. Then there was something else. I felt his soul, severely damaged but somehow still intact and functional. I probed further, assessing the damage Lucifer inflicted. Another year in the cage would have damaged it to the point of demonising it, no doubt. I felt along its cracks, trying to understand what he might be going through.

 _Of course!_ "You're hallucinating, aren't you?" I sat up and looked back at him.

He continued to frown. "What did you do to me?"

"I was connecting with you physically and spiritually. Now tell me, are you seeing the cage?"

He gulped, unsure of whether to answer. Eventually, he relented. "I'm seeing Lucifer."

"Hmm…" I nodded in acknowledgement. This was all interesting to me, evidently. "Are you seeing him right now?"

His eyes flickered between me and an empty space next to me. Then his eyes narrowed and he gave a disgusted expression. "He's saying… a lot of dirty things about you."

I rolled my eyes. "Sounds like him." I rested my forearm at the base of his neck and slowly lowered myself to see him eye-to-eye. Our faces were in close proximity to each other, with an intimacy I was trying to establish with him. "Listen, Sam, you've been through a lot in that cage. Your soul is damaged so badly that your condition is only gonna get worse. Now you're just seeing things dispersed in this reality, but how long till the cage is the only thing you see? You'll become a drooling mess in a wheelchair soon enough." His eyes widened. I could see the concern behind them. "I can help you end this. Lucifer can help you. He did this to you, so he can fix you. All you have to do is accept him."

Sam exhaled, his gaze hardening. "You think this will break me? Make me so desperate that I'll accept anything to make it go away? How simple-minded do you think I am?"

"If this doesn't break you, I can find something that will. You're in my territory, pal," I warned.

He huffed. "Go ahead. But I'd sooner go insane and die than release someone who only wants destruction."

I straightened up again, picking up a scalpel. "You'll be in here a while. Better get comfortable."

* * *

(Dean POV)

 _ **Spokane, Washington – 26 June 2011, 1.50pm**_

"Sammy?" He stood at the door of the motel room, scanning for a sign of his brother's presence. He'd just gotten back after killing Amy and got a piece of pie to keep up his ruse before going to the room number that Sam texted him. He set the pie down on the table and checked the bathroom. No one was there. He texted Sam, asking him about his whereabouts. The sound of a 'ding' and something vibrating made his heart skip a beat. He rushed over to the bedside table, finding that Sam had left his phone there. This wasn't like of him. _Something's wrong_ , his instincts told him.

" _Goddammit!_ " He sat, uncertain, on the bed while possibilities raced through his mind. "I leave for one second…"

He dialled Bobby immediately. "The other shoe, again!" he exclaimed.

" _Sam took off again?_ " Bobby caught on.

"All his things are still here."

" _Dean, are you sure? Maybe he went to get a drink or something."_

"But there's no note, nothing! And he left his phone, Bobby. Something's up."

" _He couldn't have gotten far. Keep searching, kid. Meanwhile, I'm working up a lead on those trees in Sioux Falls. Jody may have something. Keep me posted."_

"Alright," Dean cut the call. Face etched with worry, he went out to the front desk, asking if anyone had seen his brother walking out, to no avail. He frantically searched every street corner in a ten-block radius, scouting for any indication of his brother's presence. With every minute that passed, his anxiety only grew worse. _Where did you go, Sammy?_ He went inside every bar, every shop, every place he could think of that Sam would have gone. Still nothing. Now he had to consider the real possibility that Sam couldn't control his hallucination and went missing, or worse, hurt himself. He hated seeing this confirmation of his deepest fear – that "you are what you are" and what Sam was, was unstable. He swore to himself that if he ever found his brother, he would lock him up in Bobby's panic room until they figured out what to do. This was getting out of hand. Unable to do anything else, he retired to the motel room, hoping that Sam would find his way back.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 3.30pm**_

Sam's loud cries of pain permeated throughout the whole basement. It was all-encompassing, like my desire to free Lucifer from the cage. His shirt and jacket lay on a messy pile on the floor. I would get what I wanted, one way or another. When I finally paused and set the bloody scalpel down, I ran a hand through his silky, dark hair. "You were supposed to be his liberation. The end to his pain. And he, yours," I whispered into his ear. "You complement each other. You were made for this."

I had the table tilted upwards such that he was almost upright. His eyes struggled to open. His chest heaved with effort as he panted for breath. "I'm… _nothing…_ like… him…" he laboured to answer.

"What is the point of resisting? It's not like you have anything else going on for you," I questioned.

"I have my brother…" he winced as he felt the pain coming back to him from the lost skin on his right shoulder.

"You mean the one who doesn't trust you to make the right choices? The one who still treats you like you're a child who doesn't know what he's doing? You don't need people like that in your life. Why go back to that, when you can have a whole new life where you are strong and don't have to bow to anybody?" I tried convincing him.

"The answer… is still… _no_!" he resisted.

"You're tired. You're not thinking straight. We'll try again later." I left him to his thoughts as I went back up to the first floor, locking the door to the basement. As I stood on the porch, taking a deep breath, I rested my palms on my forehead. What would it take to convince a Winchester? The only thing coercion seemed to invoke from Sam was a stronger was going to take longer than I expected. I needed to go for a walk. When I took a step forward, I noticed something graze my foot. It was a small package.

Hassiel had left it here. I wondered if he'd heard Sam's screams, or whether he'd put it here when I'd gone out. Taking it in, I carefully opened the package, finding a box full of photos inside. They were the photos we took a few days earlier when we had all met up to celebrate Luc's birth. These were perfect – immortalised moments of pure happiness. There was one palm-sized photo of me holding Luc in my arms. It was too precious to keep in a box so I kept it with me at all times as a reminder of what really mattered in my life.

* * *

A/N:

Oh no, Sammy's been kidnapped! How will poor Dean try to rescue him? Now, not only does Sam have vivid hallucinations of Lucifer, but he is also being tortured by Sophia. Talk about a team-up. Normally, Sophia doesn't like getting violent. But when it comes to Lucifer, there is nothing she wouldn't do to be with him. Love can be destructive like that. It really brings out a side of her that she doesn't like, but she uses her love as an excuse to do it and she won't rest until she gets what she wants. Only problem is, she has a Winchester on her hands and they don't break easy. So what will she try next to get him to relent?


	35. The Pain of Mind

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 35: The Pain of Mind**

(Dean POV)

 _ **Spokane, Washington – 26 June 2011, 10.45pm**_

Dean couldn't sleep. Not when the bed next to his was still empty. No sign, no call from Sam and it had been hours. Something was definitely wrong. He'd probably searched the whole town that day and did it again today. Sammy was nowhere. _This is all my fault,_ he thought. _I should have been there._ He kept berating himself for choosing to do something so… insignificant like hunting Amy. He knew he was right to kill her but compared to keeping Sam safe, this was nothing. He should have just listened to Sam but no, he just had to go behind Sam's back. If he hadn't gone out of his way to kill her, his brother would still be here. The sound of his phone ringing snapped him out of his daze. "Bobby?" he answered.

" _Any word on Sam?"_

"I went everywhere, Bobby. He's not here. It's like he just… vanished."

" _Maybe that's what happened. What if he didn't take off? What if something took him?"_

"We talking… angel or demon? That kind of thing?"

" _It's just a hunch."_

"So what do we do about it?"

" _Meet me at Sioux Falls. I'll scrap up something."_

"What, you want me to just leave town?"

" _Well, you can't just sit around in that motel room. We'll find him, Dean."_

Dean had to agree with that. He was making no progress in this motel room. "How's your case?"

" _The feds are involved because it's occurring all over the country, so I couldn't get much even with Jody's help. Legally, that is. I'm working on Plan B right now. I'll tell you more when you get here."_

 **Sioux Falls, South Dakota – The Next Day, 2.27pm**

With a heavy heart, Dean settled next to Bobby at the motel table, popping open a beer. "What d'you got?"

Bobby laid out the pictures from the file he'd stolen from the local PD evidence locker. "They all look almost identical and all the vics showed no sign of struggle. The feds think all of them knew the killer or killers but if this was an angel or a demon they wouldn't even have gotten the chance to struggle. And get this, there were traces of sulfur found at every single one of them," Bobby summarised.

"That confirms it then. Demons are behind this," Dean concluded.

"Not so fast. Ever since Crowley became King, the only demon-related killings have been those involving hellhounds coming to collect soul contracts. This seems like something else," Bobby reasoned.

"What, now we don't think that Crowley is capable of something like this? The guy tried to open Purgatory."

"I know, but it doesn't seem like his MO, y'know?"

"Maybe these are all people at the end of their deals," Dean speculated.

"All of them? At the same time?" Bobby argued. Dean had no answer to that. Bobby flipped through the notes in the case file, hoping to find something. "Here." He pulled up the photo taken in Philadelphia. "This one had an exceptionally high sulfur level. And a lot of footprints were found. Could have been a number of demons. The notes say they suspect cult involvement, because of some kind of strange symbol carved into the tree."

Dean studied the symbol. He had never seen it before, and neither had Bobby. "Wait a second…" He rummaged through the photos of the trees from other states. "All of these have the symbol too. They're just not as noticeable."

"The one in Philadelphia _was_ the last one, so the carving probably didn't have enough time to be grown over before people discovered it." Bobby copied the symbol onto a notepad. "This is a start. I'll try to figure out what it means."

Dean's jaw clenched as a distinct possibility surfaced in his mind. "What if they took Sam, Bobby? What if it's the demons? Something's going on in Hell and maybe they needed Sam for something so they nabbed him."

"It's definitely possible." Bobby hated confirming that such a thing was possible, but they needed answers. "If only we could find a demon to tell us what the hell is going on in Hell!"

"I believe that's my cue," a snarky British voice greeted them. The men jumped to their feet, brandishing their knives and guns while facing their unexpected visitor.

" _Crowley,_ " Dean snarled.

"Nice to see you too, Dean. And Bobby, I'm heartbroken that you wouldn't call," Crowley said, furtively placing his hands in the pockets of his long black coat.

"Well, you did try to open Purgatory, you kidnapped people who I care about, and you sold the idea to Cas that all of this was a good idea!" Dean yelled.

"It's all in the past, mate. Your _people_ are alive, aren't they? And Purgatory's closed?" Crowley responded.

" _Cas_ is dead, and that's on you!"

"Cassie was careless! He got what came for him," Crowley replied, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "Not my fault Feathers couldn't outlive his fifteen minutes of fame." Dean was ready to carve some sense into him with his demon-killing knife but Bobby held him back.

"What do you want?" Bobby asked.

"Just to help, of course. I heard the moose was missing and I thought I'd aid in your search-and-rescue." Crowley's lips turned up on one side, an eternal reminder of his useful but secretive presence in their lives.

"You heard? How?"

"I have my methods." He didn't bother to elaborate. "I can help you find him."

"What's in it for you?" Dean questioned, clearly sceptical of what the demon had to say.

"Please, Dean, always so suspicious. Can't I ever do something out of the goodness of my heart?"

"No," Bobby and Dean replied simultaneously.

"That's touching. But there is… _something._ " He paused. "I want you to find out where Cas kept the weapons of Heaven."

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean remarked. "Why would we let you anywhere near that kind of power?"

"Because that's what's gonna save Sam," Crowley posited. When the men didn't say anything, he used a finger to lightly push his right ear forward, pretending to listen carefully. "What's that, you ask? How are the weapons of Heaven gonna save Sam? Well, gentlemen, it's going to kill the bitch who has him, that's how."

"You're still not making any sense," Bobby said.

"I'm willing to bet on my undead life that it's Sophia who took your brother," Crowley stated. "It's tough being a single parent, as I'm sure you boys understand. So my guess is that she took your brother to get him to become Lucifer's meatsuit again. Then we'll have a wholesome archangel family set on destroying the world."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. His heart raced. There was no way he could let that happen. What's worse was that he knew that Sam wouldn't give in and Sophia could be torturing him right now. _Oh, the things I would do when I find her…_

"Why should we trust you?" Bobby snapped Dean out of his thoughts. "For all we know, you could just be trying to get the weapons for yourself."

"Bobby, always the careful one. You'll make a good businessman yet," Crowley complimented. "The answer is in those, gentlemen." He pointed to the pictures on the table. "First she steals my souls, then she steals my throne," he grumbled.

"Wait, so you're saying this is all Sophia?" Dean inferred, exchanging worried looks with Bobby.

"Is grass green? Is the sky blue? _Yes,_ this is her sigil on the trees, lads." Crowley traced it with a finger. "She took their souls before they were due just to show the demons she was more capable than me. And it worked!" he said furiously. "They just fell to her feet and worshipped her! Mindless sheep. Such disrespect for the values that Hell was built on. Without honouring our contracts, we are uncivilised, I tell you, _uncivilised_!"

"So you want to gank her so that you can become King again," Dean could see the logic in that.

"And you'll get your brother back in the process," Crowley explained. "Why don't I sweeten the deal and let you keep the weapons when we're done? And then I'll make sure you never hear from a demon again."

"Seems a little too good to be true…" Bobby remained sceptical. This could be their only shot at finding Sam but he knew better than to work with a demon. After all, that was what got Cas killed. If what he was saying was true, then it made sense that Crowley was desperate enough to give up the weapons afterwards if all he needed was to kill Sophia to save his own ass.

"Sleep on it," Crowley suggested, before placing one of the pictures back on the table and vanishing. Silence eclipsed the room as Bobby and Dean took a moment to take in what they had just heard from Crowley.

"What're we thinking? We buying what he says?" Dean turned to Bobby.

"We can't just take his word for it," Bobby said. "How do we even know if Sophia took Sam? Who're we gonna ask?"

They were both stuck. They couldn't trust any demon with intel like this and no hunter they knew could probably get close to Sophia. _Unless…_ "I have an idea," Dean spoke up. "It's a long shot… but it could work." When he articulated his idea to Bobby, the older man's eyes widened, then he frowned, and then his expression eased, seriously considering their options.

"Are you crazy? If this goes sideways, we're both dead meat," Bobby threw his arms up. "But what the hell, what other choice do we got?"

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 3 July 2011, 7.03am**_

"Sam," I patted his cheek lightly. "Sam, wake up, Sam. The sun's out, the birds are singing and it's a fresh new day to say 'yes'." The Winchester slowly stirred awake, still vexed to see me. It wasn't my fault he was so hard-headed. We'd been here for days. Every day I explored a new method of torture, healing him at the end of the day just to begin again in the morning (after all, I needed to spend time on other things). This was very educational and would've excited me, were it not for the need to see my lover again looming over my head. _Are you proud of me, tough guy?_ I imagined asking him before we melted into each other's arms once again. Admittedly, Sam was tough to crack. How did Lucifer manage to get Zara in line with torture? It seemed she was more receptive to the kiss of his lash than Sam. She was more of a daredevil and refused to abide by conventional standards of good and evil, anyway. In that sense, she was more like Lucifer than I. Maybe I needed to find the side to Sam that was more like me. Maybe that was the key to getting his consent.

I rubbed my palms along his chest, feeling its muscular surface hard as rock. My hands travelled to his sculpted shoulders, then his neck. Channelling my comforting, maternal energy, I took hold of his consciousness and yanked it out of his body. His wispy smoke-like form stared back at me with surprise and looked back at his own body.

"Don't worry," I told him. "Your body will be fine when I return you to it."

When he looked back at me, he scanned me from top to bottom, the look of surprise never fading. "Y-You look different."

"This is my true form you're seeing." I extended my wings outward slightly, letting him see their golden shine.

"H-How?" he stammered.

"You're having an out-of-body experience, Sam. What you see here will be the true nature of things. Nothing can hurt you here, and I will make sure of it." I took both his hands in mine and took us outside while his gaze remained fixed on me.

"You just spent the whole of the last who-knows-how-many days torturing me and you just expect this to change-"

"Look around you," I cut him off.

In this state, his senses were heightened, his mind separated from the damage of the cage and his experience phenomenal. Sam scanned the landscape, suddenly growing silent. The virgin rays of sunlight streamed into the field, spreading into every corner slowly. The colours of my wide array of flowers and other plants appeared so vibrant and pure that they threatened to escape the fabric of space like a pop-up book. The swirling of the cool morning breeze swept over the field like a paintbrush blending colours and caressed our forms with the gentleness of a lover.

"Incredible, isn't it?" I asked.

He remained silent, unwilling to answer, as though admitting the astounding beauty of what he was experiencing was to somehow give into my pressures. I myself looked around the field, pleasantly in awe of the scene before me. It never got old. My gaze swept across the swaying stalks of plants and rested on something peculiar. I didn't think Sam noticed. It was a lean black figure in the distance, standing still, and only I seemed to be able to see it. While I let Sam look at everything else, my attention was focussed on this strange thing in my land. Upon closer inspection, I realised that it was a person simply looking at me, unmoving and eerie. They didn't seem to be moved by my awareness of their presence. I felt a tingle in the back of my neck like I'd never felt before. There was a strange vibe to this being, one that I could not place, but I realised that I'd been silent for far too long. I needed to return my attention to Sam.

"This is the Earth, Sam, in all its natural beauty. Here, the aesthetic meets the logos, and produces a truth. It is the truth that encompasses everything else. It is the truth of the divine, of creation, of meaning. This is what I see and I want you to see it too," I explained.

"Why are you showing me this?" he finally said.

"We are more alike than you think." I rested a hand on his shoulder with the gentleness of a feather. "I know you have an appreciation for these things and you understand how important they are. It's who you are and I suspect that you would be more in touch with this side of yourself had you not been so rudely snatched away from your academic pursuits by Dean all those years ago." This seemed to inspire some unspoken thought in him. "The world is a beautiful place. Its true nature is transcendent of the human perspective, of human suffering. This is what the world will look like when you die and ascend to Heaven. If you think about it further, you will find that human suffering is in fact temporary and not worth ruminating about. After all, would it be so bad to exist in a mode like this in death?"

Holding his hand, I led him to the river nearby, bringing him to the small waterfall at its head. He stared at the cascade, entranced by its glimmer as water flowed off the ledge and plunged into the lake below. The impact caused small droplets to break off the stream and float in the air. This created somewhat of a mist, which, in this slowed-down time, appeared as tiny glass beads migrating outwards from the river.

"This is where God blessed my son," I revealed. "I stood in this very water when God Himself reached out to me. This water is probably imbued with some divine property because of this."

"God talked to you?" he inquired.

"Not exactly. The old guy still doesn't like to show Himself. But His presence is familiar. You just know it when you feel it. God wanted me to have this child, Sam. The one that you helped to create, all because you let Lucifer in." Speaking of the devil (or his son), the little one strode over with his carefully stepping feet. He ran over to me as soon as he spotted me, hugging my leg. Sam stared in wide-eyed surprise at Luc, unable to form words. I picked Luc up and soon his chubby arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me in to give me a peck on the cheek. I chuckled, pleased by his innocent expression of love. In his true form, Luc still appeared as a baby, though his vessel was growing into a toddler quickly. Looks can be deceiving, however, since Luc was far more knowledgeable than a human toddler even as a baby.

Luc eyed Sam with the same compassion he had for the world around him, even reaching for his wispy form. Hesitant at first, Sam reached to Luc with his giant finger, allowing Luc's tiny hand to curl around it. A smile cracked on Sam's face. "Look at how pure he is. God wanted him for Lucifer and me, and for the whole world too."

"How can you say that…" he began, still admiring Luc's divine form with curiosity. "…and think that Lucifer would be a good influence on him? Shouldn't you be afraid that Lucifer would corrupt him?"

"You underestimate Lucifer. I knew him from the beginning, from before he was tainted by The Darkness. He was good and pure, just like Luc here. He lost himself along the way but he is recovering, believe it or not. I agree that some semblance of insanity remains in him, but that is only because of how his family has treated him – betraying him, ostracising him, casting him out of their hearts and out of our home. It was harsh what happened to him and I know better than anyone what it's done to his mind. I sincerely believe that this child will save him. Luc will restore him to his truest self and all will be right again. Why else would God send His own blessing?" I reasoned.

Holding Luc with both arms, I rested a wing on Sam's back as I guided him around the garden. He studied every variety I had with utmost fascination. Glad to have an interested companion, I named all the different plants and briefly explained their properties. The amalgam of the different scents greeted us as we walked through the plots. The silent acknowledgement of his nod and focussed gaze suggested that he was enjoying this tour. Leaving Luc to play with Dog, we stood in front of the house. "This isn't so bad, is it, Sam?"

"No, it isn't at all," he admitted. "But you know what is? You thinking that this is all gonna 'tame' Lucifer. Do you actually think he'll just… leave Hell and demons and all that power behind to be here with you and his son?" he snapped with a tone that enraged me. Huffing mockingly, he continued, "I'll admit, you almost had me sold there. And I would've bought it, if it wasn't _Lucifer_ you wanted to help. You expect me to believe that he isn't going to raise his son to be just like him and destroy the world? Insane or not, he'll never let humans go. He'll do what he's always wanted to do – destroy us. It's funny that you think you can change that."

I scowled. As much as I wanted to smite him then and there, I tried to exercise patience. I had to try reason as much as I could, seeing as force did little. "What do you know about him? You've only had your faulty bible and related texts, all one-sided and unreliable. He and I have a bond, an understanding, and I'm the only one he'll listen to. Luc and I can save him. Only us. No one else."

He huffed. "You're right, I don't know him. But I know his type. People like him, who get a kick out of killing and destroying, will do it again and again, no matter how many times you try to stop them. It's a part of who they are. That's why God locked him up!"

I'd had enough. I didn't need all this negativity coming from a mere human like him. "That's it, show's over." I grabbed his shoulders and hurled him back into his body. He awoke with a loud gasp for air, chest heaving. Before he could regain full awareness, I held him down and dug into his guts with my fingers. "How dare you think of him like a human? We are the divine, we are powerful and we are _nothing_ like you apes!" Blood pooled around my fingers as my nails clawed through flesh. His raw screams filled my ears and urged me to go on. I went slowly to accentuate the pain. "We are greater than you can ever imagine. Our power unrivalled. Our perspective but a mere collection of words to you mortals. How can you live with such simplicity and yet be so annoying and sure of yourselves?"

My fingers sunk into his body, the warm, bloody mess of his insides coating them. Then, I pulled them out all at once, and grabbed a small knife which glowed red as I heated it. Taking my time, I used it to cut and burn an Enochian poem onto his bare chest. Blood spilt and the smell of burnt human flesh permeated the air. It roughly translated to:

" _Blood pours but life is not lost_

 _Words are said but naught is known_

 _The prideful shall learn their lessons_

 _In this vessel that the divine hath shown"_

"Don't worry, you won't die from this," I reassured him as his wails died down. "I would never let you get off that easily." I stood over his body in this position and was admiring my work when I felt a tingle in the reaches of my mind. I was being summoned. "Someone's calling me. Don't move," I ordered him before I left.

* * *

 _ **Rusty Old Cabin, Iowa – 3 July 2011, 8.16pm**_

I followed the trail. Whoever was summoning me was using a really old spell. I'd felt it being used sometime before, in the early days of humanity. Of course, I wasn't capable of responding, or not that I remembered. I just wanted to forget those two hundred thousand years in the vault. Someone went through a lot of trouble to get this spell and gather the materials for it. _This had better be important_. When I arrived, I was let down by the damp interior of a run-down cabin with cracks on the walls and long-dried blood on the floor. So much for having admirers. Where I stood, a copper bowl containing a lotus, some incense and some accessorial flowers was placed before me.

"Nice touch with the jasmine and the roses. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that you were trying to flatter me," I told my callers.

"Yeah? Because the date's just beginning," Dean said with his gruff, threatening voice as he dropped a match to the ground, evoking a ring of holy fire around me.

"Is this the thanks I get for sparing your lives?" I replied with a mock sense of disappointment. Blobs of yellow light wavered on their faces as the flames danced.

"That depends," Bobby answered, lines of worry etched into his face. He looked to Dean to ask the questions.

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean seemed tired, like he'd tried looking just about everywhere for answers.

I sighed nonchalantly. "Your brother's fine." Their eyes widened, finally relieved to hear something about the one who went missing. "And he _will_ be fine, as long as he says one little word."

"So it is true, then," Bobby spoke up. "You're trying to bring back Lucifer."

"Kudos to you for putting that together. Are we done here?" I narrowed my eyes, impatient.

"My brother will never agree to this," Dean stated with his gruff voice. "Believe me, whole armies of angels and demons have tried, and we never budged. So just save us all some time and give him back and we'll forget this ever happened."

I huffed. "Or what? You'll hurt me? Please, Dean, that's foolish even for you." He gulped, probably desperate and running out of options. I scanned him from head to toe. "You know what, I can actually offer you a deal. I'll give you your brother back, all healed and fixed up, but you take his place. You become Lucifer's vessel."

A moment ago he was just curious and worried, wondering if his brother was alive. Now, though, he was furious, his frown deepening. "No way."

"Then I'll just have to spend every day sticking sharp things in wherever it hurts until Sam says 'yes'." Dean refused to make eye contact with me. Frowning, he clenched, darkening the shadows on his face where the muscles went taut. While some deep thought was taking over him, a plan of escape formed in my mind. The air was pregnant with moisture and my own magic worked within this ring of holy fire. Slowly, I began coalescing the water droplets towards the edge of the holy fire, wearing it down, but this would take time. "So what was your plan? Trap me, ask me about your brother, and sternly tell me to release him? This holy fire is not going to last very long and then I'm going smash you to bits. Maybe I'll do it in front of your brother so that the hope he so dearly holds onto will die right before him."

"Do whatever you want. Sammy won't give in to you. He's stronger than that," Dean taunted. His earlier scepticism about his brother's willpower seemed to have vanished into thin air. This had to be an act.

"Is that why you yelled at him for going off on a case on his own? Because you trusted that he was strong?" The two men were visibly perplexed at my knowledge of their affairs. Always nice to have the element of surprise. "You don't even trust your brother to be sane, which was why you killed Amy, wasn't it? So thank you, Dean, for helping me prove that no one on this God-forsaken planet has faith in him." My plan was working, and the holy fire would die soon. "You know, I don't get why you're so worried. Lucifer and I can fix your brother's mind. We can keep him, and you and whoever you care about, safe if that's what bothers you. I don't really care for whether or not humans live or die, and with a child to raise I doubt Lucifer will too." I flashed my most reassuring smile, but it did not seem to convince them. With barely a sound, I sent a final wave of energy, pushing the mass of water droplets outwards and dousing the flames. "Time's up, gents. Sam might miss me."

Instantly, they jumped to attack, brandishing angel blades. Pity, they should've known those won't work on me. With a flick of the hand, I tossed Bobby to the far wall and heard something crack as I walked towards Dean. His arm raised to strike me but I caught it and reached into his gut instead, drawing blood. He groaned in agony and dropped the blade. I pushed him up against the wall and drove my hand deeper into his abdomen, feeling his organs squishing in my grasp. Dean shut his eyes tightly, unable to see through the pain. "Sammy can't say no when his brother's life depends on it," I whispered sharply.

"Get away from him!" I turned sharply. Bobby's palm was bleeding. An incision had been made down its middle. With a jerk of the arm, he pulled open a curtain.

"No!" I yelled but it was too late. He slapped his bleeding palm against the window, which had an angel-banishing sigil drawn on it. I tried to resist its push and stay grounded with every fibre of my being but there was no avoiding its forceful propulsion. I felt myself being pulled and plummeted across space, with no control over where I was headed. I was simply a star being shot across the sky, a blazing trail of fire following me. At one point, it seemed like I would never land. That's the thing about these angel-banishing sigils – they don't just shoot you away, but they also make your journey unpredictable. When I finally crashed into the earth, rocks and dust flew everywhere. I was pummelled into the ground, creating a giant crater where I'd fallen. _Where the hell am I?_ It was only when I got up that I realised that I wasn't even on earth. I was on the freakin' moon. Dust floated around in the weak gravitational space and slowly migrated in the direction of the earth.

* * *

 _ **The Freakin' Moon – 3 July 2011, 8.40pm USA time**_

For a moment, I simply stood, watching as this cloud of dust travelled away from me towards this marble-like blue orb of a planet. When this cloud reached the atmosphere, it would gain traction and become a shower of fiery rocks raining upon the earth. _Good,_ I thought. I wanted someone to suffer for all the angst I was feeling. Here I was, trying so hard to put my life together and then there are these humans in the way. Why did it have to be Sam? Why couldn't it be someone more agreeable, someone with better perspective? It must have been a lot easier mere centuries earlier, when humans were more religious. The death of religion must have inflated the human ego, making them think they are greater than or equal to the divine. Such arrogance. No wonder Lucifer wanted to kill them all!

A rage built up in me like a wave about to crash against the shore. Thoughts of Lucifer still rotting away in the cage swirled in my head. It pained me to think that all his fate had ever been was to be trapped in that cage for all eternity. Having been subjected to it myself, I would never wish to relive it or even remember it. Yet he had been thrown back in there, like he had never stepped out of it in the first place. I couldn't imagine what it was doing to him and I felt a pang of regret for snapping at him earlier when he'd asked me to free him. And the only thing standing between us was this stupid human and his foolhardy brother.

When it was just the two of us, I could have still bore the thought of it taking this long to release him. But we had a son now. A son who needed his father as much as his mother. A son who needed to be loved in a world that would be cruel to him and would only see him as a Hellion. I wasn't going to let this go on any longer. I rushed back home, to that basement, and forced Sam awake with my fingers gripping his jaw. "Look at this, Sam," I held up my bloodied hand. "Do you know what this is?" His eyes opened and closed, his pupils shrinking to focus on the image before him. "This is your brother. Or what's left of him."

His eyes widened, and then shrunk back from effort as he scrunched up his face, still exhausted from the earlier wound I'd inflicted on him. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it," I rubbed my blood-stained finger on his lips. He struggled to turn away, disgusted. "Smells like him, doesn't it? It's not a hard thing to believe that your brother would be stupid enough to summon me and then demand I hand you over with empty threats, is it? Do you see now, what your tiny little world has become? There's nothing left for you here. You know I can bring your brother back if you wanted. I could give you anything you wanted. All I ask for is one small thing."

A single moment passed as he adjusted his gaze to meet mine. "Screw… you…" he spat out, staring me straight in the eyes, and a smirk spread across his bloodied and battered face.

The wave crashed against the shore. And the shore was crushed, decimated, like Sam's right knee under my steel grasp. What measly indignation he had left devolved into shrieks of pain and I wanted nothing more than to break every bone in his body, heal him and then do it all over again. A million different ideas for torture raced through my mind. This was it. The Darkness. My Darkness. I had never been so close to it before. My Dark essence almost threatened to take over. Perhaps I would have even reverted back to my real form. The only thing that stopped me was the piercing sound of a cry. Luc's cry.

My breath stopped. _What's wrong?_ _Is my baby okay?_ I let out a breath to release myself from anger and shift into 'Mother' mode and hurried upstairs. The sound of Dog barking reached me when I pushed open the basement door and entered the living room. It was night. The house was shrouded in darkness except for the dim yellow lights. The doors were wide open as usual, letting in the cool night breeze. There Luc was, sitting and crying on the front porch. I heaved a sigh of relief, finding that he was unhurt. His wailing quietened to a soft sob as I lifted him up onto my waist. "What's wrong, son?"

It melted my heart to see his eyes glistening with tears and his lips quivering as they did then. Something bad must have been bothering him if a happy child like him was put to tears like this. And I found out why. Shaking, he lifted his arms and a chubby finger pointed into the distance. Suddenly, the loud barking died with a whimper. My head jerked in the direction of the whimper and I was taken aback by what I saw. There, in the darkness and under the dim moonlight, was the figure I had seen earlier when I was with Sam. The dark, mysterious figure who had been too far away to identify. Now he wasn't alone – there was another with him. They both stood as he had before, unmoving, silently staring across the distance at me. I had no idea who these beings were, or what they wanted with me, but from the chilling sensation I felt from seeing them, I guessed that they were a manifestation of something more powerful than I, and I was right to be anxious.

"Dog!" Luc cried. I glanced at a limp bundle on the path between us. Cautiously, I went near it. Its blood shone black in the moonlight and a foul smell came from where its abdomen had been torn open. I gasped. They had killed my dog. Right in front of my son. Luc seemed devastated by the sight. I had never wanted him to see suffering like this. He was just a child – he wasn't ready for this yet. And here he was, faced with the cruel reality of mortality that all terrestrial creatures faced. Surprisingly enough, a learning opportunity presented itself here. Comforting Luc, I laid his hand on Dog's brown fur, instructing him on how to heal. He took in short breaths, still shaken by the sight of the injured creature. I assured him that he could save it if he tried. An understanding gleamed in his eyes and he wiped away his own tears. Eventually, he managed to do it and the mutt breathed again.

"You did it! It'll be fine now," I whispered into his ear as I kissed his forehead, proud of his achievement. Now onto the other mystery. I glanced back at the figures and stifled another gasp. They had moved closer. Now I could see them more clearly. They looked like they were made of stone and had this peculiar armour that reeked of ancient magic. Along with that, they both held long spears in their arms and that's when it clicked for me – these figures matched the descriptions that Lucifer gave me after he had come to release me from the vault. These were the guardians of my vault. They hadn't been there when I'd gone to retrieve my trident from the vault but they were here now. What this all meant was unknown to me.

Leaving Luc with Dog, I approached them with my blade in hand. They were unfazed by my arrival before them. I thought one of them might acknowledge my presence and tell me why they were there, but they simply stood like statues. Finally, I asked, "Why did you kill my dog?"

The figure on the left jerked his head down at me, taking me by surprise. "It was in the way," his low voice said, rumbling from its rocky core.

" _It was in the way?_ You don't just come here and kill my pets, pal!" I snapped. It remained silent. This was getting a bit much for me. I was already mad from trying to break Sam, and now these figures who I didn't know came to do who-knows-what in front of my house. I didn't have patience for this thing's attitude right now. _Deep breaths, Sophia,_ I told myself. "Who are you?"

"We are agents of Khaos."

I waited for him to elaborate but he said nothing. "Okay… what do you want?" I probed.

"Khaos would like to meet you."

"Then why doesn't He come here Himself?"

"He wants you to come with us."

Everything about this was strange. Khaos clearly knew how to find me and talk to me, so why wouldn't He be here? Every time I think I know something about Khaos, He just keeps finding ways to surprise me. I wondered what it would be this time. "Okay," I accepted. Still, the figures remained silent. I sighed. "I'll come!" I emphasised.

"No vessel," the figure said.

"What?"

"No vessel," he repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time!" I crossed my arms. "Why would He ask such a thing of me?"

"I cannot answer you," his tone was monotonous.

"Well, you're not the brightest tool in the shed, are you?"

"I do not understand your question. Please phrase it differently," he instructed.

Another sigh escaped me and I pulled a hand down my face. "Fine. You know what, I'll just get my son and we can go, alright?"

"No son. You alone," he answered.

 _No…_ How could Khaos just expect me to leave my son here alone? Well, I guess he wouldn't be completely alone. My vessel will be here. Zara could take care of him. That would have to be enough since I couldn't get one of my friends to be here the whole time, especially with a prisoner in the basement. What about Sam? I couldn't let him die while I was away. His soul would be sent to Heaven and then I wouldn't be able to get his consent. I needed to make arrangements before I left to see Khaos. Begrudgingly, I ran a few quick errands all while grumbling about Khaos to myself.

* * *

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 4 July 2011, 5.30am**_

"I've gotten you supplies. Food is in the fridge, clothes are upstairs, there are books on the shelves," I told my vessel.

 _Are you really going to just leave? I don't know if I even remember how to walk!_ I heard Zara say to me.

"Don't worry. It'll all come back to you when I leave. You'll be fine," I reassured her. "I don't know how long I'll be gone so I got some things for Sam too. I've put a saline solution into his arm so he'll be hydrated. I just need you to inject a nutrient medium into him once a day." I looked to a syringe kit in which I'd kept the materials needed. "Don't let him die and more importantly, don't loosen his straps."

 _Uhh… sure thing._ I sensed uncertainty.

"What we're doing is important, don't you forget that. Wouldn't want Luc to grow up without a father now, would we?" If there was anything I could trust in her, it was her love for our son. We had birthed him together, after all, and her maternal love was no less than mine. It was something I felt us bonding over and I could sense the authenticity of her affection whenever we looked at him. This was how I knew she would do as I said and let me back in when I came back.

Finally, I picked Luciel up and kissed him all over his face, causing him to squeal excitedly. "Be a good little cherub when Mommy's away, okay?"

"Okay," he answered with the cutest tone possible. I felt reluctant to be away from him. Trusting that he was in good hands, I flew out of my vessel.

* * *

A/N:

I just wanted to say thanks to all the people who favourited/followed! Hope you guys are enjoying the ride.

Alright, so finally we get to find out what the hell Khaos wants with Sophia. The next two chapters will be centred around this and Zara's time alone with the baby (and Sam). Things are bound to get interesting for the both of them. Dean and Bobby don't remain idle in the mean time either. As usual, tell me what you think :)


	36. The Guest In The Basement

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Sorry for the long hiatus! I have a lot of new chapters written so I can make more regular uploads (once a week or so). This chapter is part one of two of an 'episode' in Sophia's life and we will see the scenes shifting from archangel to vessel. Both of their plotlines are kinda important and determine what will happen from now on. Hope you guys enjoy and I can't wait to hear what you think of it!

Also, I know it's kinda late but happy 4th of July to my American readers :)

 **Chapter 36: The Guest in The Basement**

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 4 July 2011, 5.33am**_

She stood in a daze, staring at the figures in front of her. A bright cloud of light which she understood to be Sophia swirled around those creepy statue things in the field and with a flash of bright light, they vanished, no trace of them remaining. Now it was just her, all too human, alone in this house in the middle of nowhere with a child on her hip and a prisoner in the basement. A rush of emotions overtook her. She remembered everything. Losing consciousness in the vault, waking up with no control over her own body, feeling like she was trapped in a flesh prison. Sophia had reassured her that this didn't have to be uncomfortable and for a while she accepted it, trying her best to relax in impossible circumstances. She had seen people being slaughtered through her own hands, unable to look away. She had given birth though she had never envisioned herself to have children at the young age of 24. She had almost died when Sophia was stabbed by Raphael. The past year and a half had been one hell of a ride.

Now she was here. In this moment, she was in control of her own body, grounded to the earth. She had never doubted for once that it was the wrong decision to say 'yes' to Sophia – nothing in her life could have measured up to the amazing things she'd seen as an archangel's vessel. It seemed like this was her destiny, what she had been born to do, and she embraced it completely and whole-heartedly. Yet, thinking about the ruthless nature of an archangel's wrath and killing made her uneasy. This was her human self thinking about the suffering that had been brought through her hands. After all, killing people was supposed to make us uncomfortable. Being a vessel and seeing stuff like this happen through Sophia's eyes was one thing – it kept Zara distant from the brutality of what was happening. But without Sophia there, without the feeling of another powerful being forcing her to partake in these actions, Zara shuddered just thinking about it.

Dawn was breaking. The sky brightened slowly, spreading dim rays of light across the field. The silence was soon eclipsed by birds chirping and singing. Zara snapped out of her daze, and looked at the kid in her arms. He simply stared back at her – and he had been for quite a while now – with curiosity. He had seen his mother in this woman but now he saw a human looking into his eyes. For Zara, she was still filled with awe at the thought that she had given birth to this beautiful child and though he was no human, he was still her son. "I don't think we've met properly, Luc," she said to him. "I'm Zara." She gave him a warm smile and kissed him on the forehead. A loud grumbling in her stomach caught her by surprise. "I guess I'd better eat first before we play, huh?"

Luc certainly wasn't like any baby she'd ever seen – he always looked at everything like it was a mystery waiting to unravel itself. He was also way quieter since he rarely cried. He was always running around, picking up things and putting them back down. It was quite a sight to see while she was having her breakfast, so long as he didn't break any of Sophia's fine vases or got a hold of the many weapons scattered throughout the house. _Shit,_ she realised. _I'm a mom now._ It was her responsibility to keep the house safe and in good condition, as well as keep Luc from running into danger. How was she supposed to protect an archangel child when she was just human? Sophia left her with her archangel blade and she had her limited training from Lucifer in Hell, but she still worried that this wouldn't be enough. And she had to take care of herself too, which included food, water, entertainment and sleep. Then there was the memos Sophia had left – trim the flowers, collect the fruits and vegetables, bathe the dog. This was way too much responsibility. Worry raced through her mind as she cleaned the dishes after a simple meal of a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Play with me!" Luc begged as he tugged on her long dress.

"I don't know, Luc, I'm tired," she plopped down on the couch. Months of having no rest and constantly working was catching up to her and she probably needed to nap for a week straight. Seeing as that wasn't an option, she would just have to settle for short but frequent naps. Sighing, Zara pulled up her legs and kneaded her calves where she was beginning to feel cramps. Luc wouldn't give up. He simply came up to her and placed his hands gently on her calves, easing her pain. "Aw, thank you," she chuckled, touched by his gesture. She felt better already. _Maybe this wouldn't be so bad,_ she thought.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Aphelia's Arch – Unspecified time in space**_

We were flying across space, at a speed even unknown to me. Suddenly everything looked so unfamiliar and new. It had been too long since I'd been this far away from earth and even then, there were probably reaches of the universe that I had never been to. We landed on a planet with a dull golden shine, something that was atypical of any planets I'd studied before. Gold was too heavy an element to have been formed at the heart of any star in a mere 14 billion years. This had to be made by someone else. That's when the whole landscape of abandoned buildings came into view. The whole area was like a desert with few short buildings scattered about. It was almost like a small settlement of dilapidated houses. Whatever it was, the feeling of nostalgia and death permeated this whole place, like the scene of a village emptied in a war. Yet, there were no signs of anyone ever having been here. Being silent and unresponsive as ever, the two figures who I'd travelled with led me past the buildings to a giant metallic arch. This arch was continuous with a wall and this was no ordinary wall – it was wavy, reflecting shades of black, purple and blue. I recognised it. It was the veil. The one connecting the two universes and the one pierced by the scientists in that government research facility.

One of the figures, or 'Agents of Khaos' as they'd called themselves, maintained an iron grip on my elbow, which I tried to shake off in vain. "Unhand me, creature!" I yelled at it.

For the first time, it showed emotion by snarling at me. "Stand down, Zorg," a voice said. I turned as soon as I felt the cool release of my arm. It was Khaos. But He looked different this time. Again. This one was taller and leaner, almost like a stickman.

"Yeah, Zorg, cool it," I taunted, still bitter about the reception.

"Don't be mad at him. He was just doing what he was told," Khaos explained.

"I'm sorry if I seem a bit angry, but your minion killed my dog!" Yes, I was still upset about that.

"Yeah, Zorg tends to do that sometimes. It's a flaw in his wiring but I decided to keep it to make things interesting." Seeing as I wasn't amused, He continued. "It's nice to see you again, Sophia. I'm Khaos Theta. You can just call me Theta."

I narrowed my eyes, confused.

Understanding my predicament, He elaborated, "As you know, we, Khaos, are not simply one being but many, though we share a common perspective. In fact, we often deploy ourselves as individual beings with different personalities and tasks to make things easier."

"So there's a whole group of you and you're all the same being?" He nodded. _Boy, this is complicated._ "So who was the previous guy?"

"That was Delta, the one you met at the labs and the one who brought you to Agnes. He's the snarky one. And the one you met before Him was Alpha. That guy can be a real piece of work, if you ask me." He was referring to the one who threatened me and put on a frightening face. Great, just great.

"Okay, _Theta,_ why am I here? And where _is_ here?"

He made a gesture to Zorg and his friend and they both disappeared, leaving us both alone. "This is the edge of the universe. Past that arch is the void where all I reside. And beyond that is another arch that leads to the sister universe. This is where the gap between the two universes is the greatest, which is why it's where I am situated. I have brought you here because it's finally time you knew."

This was the moment I'd been waiting for. The mystery of why I was indebted to Khaos. Why Khaos was so interested in me, what His deal was. A strange mix of fear and curiosity gripped me. What was I going to find beyond this arch? Did I want to know? _Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?_ I had always delved headfirst into whatever gave me more knowledge, embracing the risk of finding out something bad or frightening but this time, my fear seemed to be greater than usual. Perhaps it was Death's warnings playing in my head. He had told me that a time would come when I had to make a difficult choice that my freedom depended upon, as well as that I had to be careful around Khaos. As much as I didn't want to believe him, the doubt was ingrained in me. Maybe this was where I would have to make the choice. Was I ready? What could be so bad that Death would come to warn me about it?

"Take my hand," Theta ordered. I obliged. Soon we stepped through the arch and the universe dissolved behind me.

* * *

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 4 July 2011, 9.26am**_

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Zara huffed and huffed for breath. She keeled over, placing a hand on her flank. "You win, Luc." They had been playing tag for the past hour, with Luc being faster than a human toddler should be and Zara helplessly chasing after the kid. She hated running but Luc's adorable puppy-face was irresistible so she went along with it. After all, the kid seemed to enjoy it, squealing in excitement every time he'd caught her and took off running. For someone who was just a child, Luc seemed to show an understanding beyond his years, especially with regards to how others felt. Grabbing Zara's hand, he waddled back to the house, pulling her behind him. Surprised by the move, she simply went along with it, curious to see what he would do next.

When they entered the house, Zara picked up a towel from the back of chair and wiped the sweat off her face and neck. She looked back down too see little Luc holding in his tiny hands a cup of water. Her heart melted seeing him. She knelt down to his level. "You are just the sweetest kid, you know that?" she tapped a finger on his nose, which amused him, before taking the glass from his hands and gulping down the cool liquid.

By this time, the sun was up and high, bearing down its heat over the field. And Zara still had to do the trimming and stuff. She looked over at the field through the open doors, studying its vast expanse. _This is going to take forever,_ she thought. She made a mental note to split the work over a few days. And she'd have to do it before sunset or else she would not be able to see what she was doing. Sighing in effort, she picked up a basket and gardening tools and headed out. Luc hovered around her, always doing one thing or another. Sometimes he rummaged through the soil, inspecting his own dirtied hands. Sometimes he picked up insects and worms and spiders of all kinds and played with them. Zara told herself that she was glad that bacteria couldn't affect him because if he were a human child she would never let him play in the field like this often. A million different things could go wrong (like snakes!) and Sophia just let him run about as much as he wanted. _Thank God, you're an all-powerful being, Luc._

While she pruned the garden, her mind wandered to other things. For one, she'd been trying so hard not to think about the basement. There was a human being in there. An actual person, with cuts and wounds on his body, inflicted by her hands. Her hands paused in a rose bush, recalling the moments where a knife from her hands had drawn blood from his skin. Terror crawled under her skin thinking of what he went through and suddenly she shivered. "Ow!" Her finger had grazed a thorn and blood pooled from the cut, forming large droplets that fell onto the fertile soil. For a moment, she simply stared at the blood, forcing herself to feel the pain from the wound. _Is this what he felt?_ she wondered. As much as she didn't want to think about the ethics of having someone tortured in the basement while she carried on around the house like nothing of the sort happened, something resembling guilt seemed to weigh down on her. She had clear orders and reasons for why Sam was there and on some level, she may have agreed with it. Still, she was human and that meant she had empathy. At some point, she was going to have to go see him to keep him alive. Something about this made her deeply uncomfortable. She thought about Luc. How could Sophia keep Sam in her own basement while leaving her son, who she'd confessed to wanting to keep innocent, in the same house? Sophia did keep a sort of barrier between the basement and ground floor to keep the noise in, but would that be enough to ward off the darkness that emanated from the basement?

She shook her head. Going down this train of thought would bring her nothing but despair. Casting these thoughts out of her mind, she put her finger to her mouth, sucking the blood and placing pressure on the cut to make it stop bleeding. And so an hour passed. And then another. Until the sky began to darken. She had been so engrossed in her work – it had become quite routine and repetitive, enjoyable even – that she hadn't noticed time passing by. While she had been seated, cutting off the flowers, little Luc picked some of them up from her basket and weaved them through her hair. Now her hair had an assortment of different flowers. She wasn't complaining. Going back into the house, she arranged the remaining flowers into vases and baskets and placed them around the house. She stopped for a moment to admire her work, wiping a hand across her sweaty forehead.

"I could use a shower right about now," she said to herself. Her eyes wandered to Luc, who was covered in dirt and grime. "And it looks like you could too. Bubble bath?"

Like any baby, Luc was fascinated by the bubbles. In that respect, he was as normal as a human child. It amazed Zara to learn more things about him like this. Though, she wondered if all this isolation from other people was a bad thing. Human children needed to make friends their own age by 3 or 4, or risk never developing the capacity to form deep connections to people – Zara had been interested in developmental psychology at some point and read up on some good ol' Piaget. But it wasn't like there were any archangel or angel children around for him to play with. Maybe those nephilim children, but they were still much older than Luc. Even then, Luc would grow up fast. He wasn't going to be a toddler for much longer. He would grow into an adolescent, a teenager, and then an adult, all within the next year or two. Then what would his mental age be? What age should his friends be? Everything about this child was new and uncharted territory and anxiety about the future gnawed at Zara as she dried her hair with a towel.

After the whole day of effort, she was beginning to feel sleepy and she could sense that Luc was too. He had to sleep too and this was convenient, since she could make sure he was safe in her arms while she was asleep. And perhaps this was the only time she could tend to the guest in the basement – while Luc slept. The final vestiges of the sun spread across the horizon in orange and blue hues while stars began to appear like spots on a dark blanket. "Alright, Luc, it's time for you to go to sleep," she instructed as she helped him put on his clothes in the bedroom on the fourth floor.

"Will you sing to me?" he requested.

"Sing?" she cracked a smile. She thought to the times Sophia put him to sleep by singing to him. Zara had no idea how, but Sophia sang to him with operatic vocals. Those were her vocal chords, yet Zara had no idea she was even capable of such a thing. She didn't know how to use them like that and she worried Luc wouldn't take to her natural singing voice as well as he did to Sophia's. "I can't sing like Sophia, but would you settle for some Celldweller?" She picked him up and sat him on her waist, walking out onto the cold balcony. "Why don't I teach you about the stars?"

"Okay," Luc answered.

Zara cleared her throat. " _Look up at the stars, son,"_ she began singing. " _My father was saying. Now go wish upon one. And spend your life waiting…"_

She pointed to the North. " _The Northern Lights can hear me whispering…"_

Her finger moved to the three stars in the sky that indicated Orion's Belt. " _Hunter Orion, are you listening?"_

Then she pointed out the bright spot in the sky where Saturn was. " _Nine rings of Saturn circle endlessly, and I'm still waiting…"_

Next was the seven stars of the Pleiades. _"I cast my hope upon The Pleiades, The Seven Sisters who would come for me. They'd fall to Earth to grant a child's dream…_ " she tickled Luc, who seemed enamoured by her song. " _But I'm still waiting."_

Then she repeated some verses from the song, pointing out the stars again. When she looked back to the child, he was fast asleep on her shoulder. Glad to see him sleeping so peacefully, she walked back into the room. " _Alone in this darkness, there a dream still worth saving. I cling to a promise… and I am still waiting…"_ She laid him down on the bed and kissed him gently on the forehead. As she closed the door to the bedroom behind her and leaned against a wall, she realised it was time. Time to see the guest in the basement.

* * *

(Sophia's POV)

 _ **The Void – Unspecified Time**_

Images zoomed past me. Noises were jumbled. Sensations attacked me from all sides, bringing comfort, pain, heat, cold, all at once. It didn't feel comfortable, but it didn't feel uncomfortable either. It was chaotic. This was the void, then, huh? Then suddenly, blackness surrounded us and our feet touched solid ground. Theta led me by the hand to this large room with screens upon screens all around us, casting a dim glow onto the room. So many different images showed on each screen, some I couldn't even comprehend.

"What is this?" I asked.

"This, Sophia," his hand gestured to all of the screens. "Is the omniverse."

"The what?" Possibilities raced through my mind, but I waited for Theta to clarify.

"You've heard of multiverses, yes? Humans would envision it as an infinite number of universes that are all slightly different from each other. Almost accurate. As you know, every universe has a sister universe. You've been in both of them. And there are infinite versions of these paired universes, which we can observe from here. This room, right here, is the one constant among all of them. This is the limit of all existence and this is called the omniverse," He explained. "The omniverse is the space in which everything that ever existed is. It's also my office."

"Wow," was all I could say. This was the metaphysics of creation and I had been permitted to see it. "Why me?" I blurted out. "Why have you chosen to show me this?"

"You know why," He responded. "Information is the code of the universes. You are the only one, other than me, who can understand it." He led me to a lone fixture in the centre of the room, which was waist-high and had a crystal built into its top. Putting my hands on the crystal, He stood behind me and placed His hands above my own. Suddenly I could see things. Things He wanted to show me. There was a universe that He showed me, where I saw Castiel standing before the gates of Purgatory, releasing all the souls back into them except for some that held onto him. "You see that one? That's a universe where you don't cross the veil. You never stopped that angel from opening Purgatory and the Leviathans roamed free in the world. Here's one where you did cross the veil, but you fell in love with Michael instead. Quite boring, that one. Oh and here's one where the two universes fought a war against each other."

"All of this is real…" I muttered under my breath. "All these possibilities…"

"Yes it is. And you can see it all from here."

A question that should've been obvious popped into my mind. "What about your siblings? God and Amara? Are there infinite versions of them too?"

"Yes, you would be right in thinking so. But to me they are one of each since they remain essentially constant in personality throughout all these universes."

"So you're stuck with them, huh?"

Theta simply shrugged. "You don't get to choose family, right?" He paused, ruminating on His siblings. "But you can choose your friends."

I sensed that this meant He wanted something from me. Wasn't that the point of friendship to those with power? "What is it that you want from me, Khaos?"

"Honestly? I want to share all of this with you. All of this power, this knowledge, it can be yours too. Come help me do what I do." Sounded too good to be true. Khaos did say He was a lonely being, but Death, who was basically His son, told me to be careful.

"Say I accept your offer. What would you expect from me in return?" I pressed.

Theta smirked. "Now we're talking. But there's still more I need to show you, if you are to fully understand what I'm offering."

* * *

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 4 July 2011, 8.44pm**_

Her hand paused in mid-air in front of the knob. She then retracted it, hesitant. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It had been almost a whole day since Sophia left. Zara didn't know what to expect. She had just left Sam down there with nothing but his injuries and a saline solution. He was probably hungry, his mouth was probably dry and his body probably ached all over. Without anyone to talk to, he was probably going insane too. Or maybe he already was, with those hallucinations that Sophia talked about. Either way, this was a man pushed to the limits of human suffering, and she was going to see him. With the syringe kit and nutrient medium in one hand, she took a deep breath and just went for it.

The door creaked slightly as she pulled it open. The stairwell leading to the basement was dark. Barely any noise came from inside and this began to spook her out a little. She took one step in and already she was shuddering from entering the darkness. Her finger tapped on the light switch and some light filtered into the stairwell from the basement. _Okay, that's better._ She released a deep breath and closed the door behind her before slowly moving down. As the table came into view, her heart pounded wildly, though the smallest bit of relief found its way into her mind. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't notice her coming and going. She didn't know what she would do if he started talking. Sophia had failed to provide instruction regarding that.

Making as little noise as was humanly possible, she made her way over to the table, setting her things down. She opened the syringe kit and drew up some of the pink medium. Her fingers tapped against the syringe which was held upright to bring the air bubbles to the nozzle, and she pressed lightly on the plunger to make sure that no air bubbles remained. Then her gaze wandered to his torso. These wounds were a bizarre sight and once again, memories of inflicting them on him came to her all at once. Her breathing grew heavier and she just couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the scalpel that lay right next to her digging into his skin. She couldn't control her thoughts anymore. She set the syringe down on the table and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head and trying to get it together. _Let's just get this over with and get out of here,_ she finally told herself after a good five minutes.

She picked up the syringe again and looked at his arm. "Ah shit," she said to herself. "I don't know how to do this." Zara reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, an action instinctive to a twenty-first century person like her. She googled 'How to inject something' and went through the results. "Find a vein… see blood in needle… alright. Let's hope I don't kill you." She put her phone away and turned back to Sam. Now his eyes were wide open, staring right at hers.

"Zara? Is that you?" His voice was weak, a little more than a whisper.

She gasped. She didn't know what to say.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked again.

"I… I'm not supposed to talk to you," she blurted out. Berating herself on the inside for saying anything at all, she placed her hand on his arm and looked for a vein.

"Where's Sophia?" he questioned, though he probably knew the answer by now. _Not here._ The needle pricked his arm. "Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

Zara sighed. "Keeping you alive. Now would you hold still?" He did as she asked and with some difficulty, she managed to finish the job.

She turned her back to him and disposed of the needle and syringe in a separate bin. "Zara, you need to get me out of here," Sam pleaded.

Her nerves began acting up again. "I can't," she spoke softly, her back still turned to him.

"Why not?"

She spun to face him. "I just… can't, okay?"

Sam wanted to believe that she was a bad person for saying 'yes' to Sophia, but the look on her face at that moment made him think again. She had the look of a person who was being forced to do something horrible against their will. He'd seen it before, when times became desperate, like during the apocalypse. Moreover, it was his and Dean's fault that she got caught by Lucifer anyway. They were supposed to look after her. She was just another one of the people they failed to save. "You're a good person, Zara. I can tell. You don't have to do whatever she says. Whatever she holds over you, my brother and I can help you face it. Just please… let me go."

She avoided his gaze. Her mind wandered back to the time she'd first met Lucifer. She had gone with him and done whatever he told her to, simply because she could and she thought of it like a game. Life had always been a game to her. It was how she kept things interesting. As someone from a sheltered home with overprotective parents, she had become quite the thrill-seeker during periods of time when she'd thought she would die of boredom. Sometimes, she didn't know when to stop and this put her in some really difficult situations (she was almost certifiable at times). Even when she ran away from Lucifer and met the Winchesters, she was acting based on impulse, constantly running from one thing to another. It was what she did. She was good at running away. This seemed totally at odds with the image that Sam had of her and it brought tears to her eyes. "You're wrong, Sam," she declared in a low voice. "I'm not a good person."

She hurried to the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Wait, Zara, listen to me. Don't-" The lights switched off and the door shut behind her. Sam was left in darkness again.

Zara leaned with her back against the door as she slowly sunk to the ground. It was a harsh reality, coming face-to-face with the consequence of her decision to accept an archangel into her body. Still, she told herself that she did what was right for her, that she wanted this adventure, that she made this choice, though this became more of a way to convince herself than to reassure herself. She couldn't sleep that night. She tried, but the gory images of the festering wounds on Sam's body wouldn't let her. Eventually, however, exhaustion won, and she gave into sleep.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **The Void – Unspecified Time**_

"There's someone I want you to meet," Theta announced. He extended His arm, beckoning for this mystery person to come in. I waited patiently, as this person came before me. They were covered in a kind of armour I'd never seen before. They never said anything, and then as silent as they came, their hands moved up to their helmet and removed it. My words got stuck in my throat as I observed her, shaking her head to free her hair before she looked straight at me with her emerald green eyes. She was me. "Sophia, meet Sophia. Be nice, you two."

"Howdy," she greeted. I said nothing. I simply gaped, speechless. What was going on? "Well I've seen that look on my face several times."

I snapped out of it. This was me from another universe, right? But still me, nonetheless. I guess I could trust her. "Uh. Hi."

"Great, you've gotten acquainted!" Theta exclaimed. He turned to her and tilted his head towards me. "Show her."

She nodded and glanced in my direction. "Follow me." She took off in some unknowable direction and I obliged. We walked down a dark corridor. I hadn't even noticed that this place had extended regions. Then we entered an even longer corridor, which had glass windows. As we walked past them, I saw so many strange things. All of them had this feature in common – they both showed the veil, and on either side of it was matter and another was antimatter. Each window showed something different and from this I guessed that each window showed a different pair of universes. Finally, we stopped in front of one particular window. "This is where I come from." As I observed, I found that the veil connecting these universes had holes in them. How could that be? Wouldn't that be devastating?

"You may notice the gaps in the veil," she began with a tone too cordial for my comfort. "But that isn't the result of any fault whatsoever. It's quite the opposite. Those gaps are like highways between the two universes. You see, I've helped established a peace treaty between the two of them and that includes trade and travel. It was the only way to prevent war."

My palm rested on the glass as I looked on with awe. What she said sounded amazing. It was something totally unthinkable from my perspective. How did the circumstances for a war even arise? Did we even have the same childhood of running away from one universe to another? "How did you do it?" I asked earnestly.

"I had a little help. From Khaos." I studied her expression. Her eyes were soft, genuine, and her features slightly worn from what I assumed to be stresses of the job. She was probably far older than I. "There was a point where everything was absolutely horrible. Things had become so bad that I thought everything I cared about would be gone, just leaving me to mourn their loss for the rest of time. That was when I decided to listen to Khaos and do as He asked. Together, we fixed the two universes and put everything as it should be. He helped me through many tough times. Khaos is like the father I never had." That used to be God, for me. Still could be. I don't know. "He was there when God-" she looked away, pausing for a moment. "When God wasn't. And Amara wasn't even in the picture. I trust Him, and so should you."

I was inclined to believe her, since it was my own mouth speaking these words to me. But I had to be sceptical. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't. "Sophia, I don't know what you've been through. It's not my place to pass judgment about it. But what can you tell me about Khaos' true intentions?"

"Hm," she looked to her feet, inspecting her boots as she thought about what she would say. A small smile lit up her face as she did this. "There's no easy answer to that. I have to admit, some of his instructions were a bit absurd. I did things that people around me didn't approve of. I went to places I shouldn't have been to. But in every one of those instances, I found something meaningful that helped me do what I wanted. Doing what He wanted ultimately helped me to get what I wanted. What that says about Him, I don't know. All I know is that my friendship with Him has been nothing but beneficial to me."

I nodded, though not in agreement or understanding. It all sounded too vague and fancy but I wasn't sure if I was being too harsh on my alternate self. She seemed to read my intentions clearly and spoke again, "Let me tell you this. I've met other versions of us. They all come in here like you, cynical and unwilling to believe. But trust me when I say that the moment they do, their lives change for the better. I can get them to come and vouch for what I have to say if that is what you want, but I was chosen specifically to talk to you because we are the most alike. The others, they aren't comprised of both universes like us. They were created by either God or Amara, but never imbued with essence from both universes like us. We are two of a kind. And if our lives were anything alike, I think you would understand the feeling of isolation I felt when I was younger. The feeling of never belonging, of always being an outsider because of how you were made." That I did understand. There were remnants of this feeling everywhere I looked. In Raphael, in the Mark of Cain, in the fragments of light. "With Khaos, you are always accepted. What others see as your flaws, what others fear in you, are strengths as far as He is concerned. When you work with Him, you will see that you become the best version of yourself."

I looked into her eyes and I saw them glistening. She sought in me a semblance of understanding, of an intimate knowledge of her troubles. And I had that. "I understand," I told her as I took her hand. It was a nice moment, finding out that I had a friend in myself. "I'm ready to hear what Khaos wants."

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 5 July 2011, 7.36am**_

"Wake up, Zara! Play with me!" Luc began jumping on the bed.

"Unghhhh…" she groaned as her eyelids laboured to open. For a moment, she was disoriented, thinking that she had somehow woken up in paradise where she had a soft bed, a scenic view from the bedroom and a beautiful kid who always put a smile on her face. It was only when she got up and felt the fatigue pulling at her muscles that she remembered her mission here: Take care of things until Sophia came back. Zara actually began craving for Sophia's return. How easy it was, simply leaving the control of your body and life in someone else's hands – someone who actually did things that were important and meaningful. No tough decisions there, like 'should I set the prisoner in my basement free', or 'am I doing the right thing'. As a vessel, whatever Sophia said goes, whatever Sophia did was right. That was the only thing she knew for sure. Being human was far too difficult.

Giving into Luc's contagious energy, she dragged herself out of bed and did what she was supposed to do. Take care of herself, keep things neat around the house, spend time with Luc, trim the garden. Quite routine stuff. As she was picking the fruits and vegetables, Luc came up to her with something in his palms. "Look at what I made!" He had cupped his palms together and in them, he held some soil from which a small sapling had sprung.

"Oh wow," she regarded him with amazement. "You… _made_ this?" He nodded. "This is beautiful. Here, let's plant it." She dug a small hole in the ground where there was space away from the parts organised by Sophia. Gently receiving the sapling with the soil in her own palms, she placed it into the hole to plant it. She didn't know much about gardening, but if this archangel child made it, it would survive her limited expertise.

When she turned back to Luc, he simply knelt to the ground, picked up some more dirt and sprung another sapling from it. "Another one! It's for you!"

"Oh well, thank you," she received the sapling again and put it next to the first one. Again, Luc made another sapling. "How many are you gonna make, son?" she asked with a chuckle in her voice.

"Many," the child responded.

"Okay, that's enough," Zara finally said, after Luc made five more. "Momma's gonna be very proud of you when she gets back." _Which I hope is soon._

The day passed by lazily. Zara actually liked the slow pace of life in this place. With all this time, she read some books, did some drawings and even tried cooking with the fruits and vegetables she'd picked. She liked the feeling of not caring about money, or a job, or what to do next. _I could die here,_ she thought. That day, when she went to visit the guest in the basement, she said absolutely nothing. He awoke again, and tried talking to her, but she pretended he didn't exist. She made herself cold and it made the job easier.

A day passed. Then another. Her daily routine became more and more comforting, an escape from the realities of the world and of the basement. It was like she had become two people. One was the loving mother and caretaker of the house, who stopped to see the rainbows and sunsets and played hide-and-seek with Luc. The other was the dedicated vessel who forced herself to embrace the darkness in the basement as a necessary rite of passage in her journey to find liberation in an archangel who had chosen her. She soon found that being silent and not paying any heed to the human was the only way she could dissociate herself from the savagery of it. But every time she closed the door of the basement, she cried on the floor for what he was going through. It was truly a cruel fate to be strapped to a table, unable to move, with no human interaction and plenty of pain throughout one's body. She felt inhuman going down there and doing what she had to do.

One night, as she lay Luc down to sleep, he asked her to read him a bedtime story. She snuggled up with him, holding her favourite book in hand – _Thus Spoke Zarathustra_. Sophia had warned Zara that Luc was far more intelligent than a human child and so typical children's books would not suffice. Zara didn't complain, so long as she got to read some Nietzsche, being the nihilist as she was. "Mankind is a tightrope between the animal and the _übermensch_ – a rope over an abyss," she read, and then found that Luc yawned and his eyes fluttered sleepily. She carefully laid him down and kissed him goodnight as she did every night, and went downstairs for her night-time business.

This time, Sam remained silent as she searched for his vein and injected the medium into him and changed his saline. "You not gonna say anything?" she found herself asking, suddenly confident in her own coldness to speak to him.

"Why bother?" he looked away, staring off at something on the ceiling. Without Sophia there to torture him and make him feel real pain in his body, he was regressing to his hallucinations. Now even Zara appeared to him as Lucifer, who he thought came to see him every day with the promise of freedom only to leave him trapped in the darkness of the cage. This became worse when Zara stopped talking to him, so her voice would be no indication that what he was seeing wasn't Lucifer. "You're not real, anyway."

"What?" This time Zara stared at Sam and really looked at him. The resigned expression on his face, his eyelids which had given up from not having anything worthy of hope to look at, his mouth which was tired of talking when nothing was inspired by his words. But all of that wasn't just on her, she realised. "Your hallucinations. You're seeing him now, aren't you?"

"Look at her, Sam," 'Lucifer' said, standing behind Zara now. "You remember the fun we had? Now imagine your hands around her neck... do you think she has a choking kink?" His hands were positioned around her neck just the way he'd described, but she simply stared at Sam with a curious gaze as though he wasn't there – because he wasn't. Sam tried his best not to think about it, despite wanting to hurt her on some level for this torture.

Every day of looking at Sam like this was wearing her down. On that specific day, a thought occurred to her. _Why Sam?_ Why not someone else more willing? Just because he was the true vessel and he wouldn't explode immediately upon containing Lucifer, it didn't mean Lucifer couldn't settle for a more temporary vessel. He had before with that other guy, the one she'd met him in. And Sophia was capable of repairing his vessel every time it deteriorated, mostly anyway. It was not an ideal arrangement, for sure, but there was no needless suffering in that one. Unable to resist, Zara found herself pursuing this line of thought more and more, even thinking to what she could do about it. She couldn't just let him go, could she? What if he keeled over and died from his injuries the moment he stepped outside the house? She sighed and pulled a hand down her face, ready to give up, when she spotted the pile of his clothes on the floor.

Digging through his pockets, she pulled out a wallet and checked it for money. Surely enough, there was more than what she thought she needed. _Am I really going to do this?_ _Sophia's gonna kill me…_ Her thoughts drifted to Luc, who was sleeping peacefully upstairs. If that kid was smart enough to enjoy reading Nietzsche, he would understand what was going on here and Zara didn't want to be this kind of person in front of him. She wanted to be a good mother and a good role model for him, especially since his own purity and compassion was something so precious that she could not bear the thought of it being tainted by the evils of the world. For the sake of Luc, the risk of getting punished by Sophia was worth it.

She slowly got up and glanced at Sam again. This time, she didn't look at him with guilt weighing down on her. This time, it was determination. She was going to get him out of here.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **The Void – Unspecified Time**_

We stopped in front of a door that led back into the omniverse. "Before we go back in," she began. "I just want to remind you that whatever Khaos wants from you, however difficult it is for you, the result of your sacrifice will be ultimately good for you."

"Alright," I said passively. Frankly, I was getting tired of her constantly singing praises about Khaos. I just wanted to hear what His deal was. I remembered something that Khaos Delta had told me before that made me doubt this whole 'ultimate good' idea. "Have there been others who have rejected what Khaos offered?"

Her hand paused mid-air in front of the door handle and she turned back to me, a sullen expression on her face. "There were some who rejected Him not just once or twice, but till the very end. And when I say the end, I mean the end of everything. Their universes could have survived if they'd listened, but they still chose not to do what He says. You know how hard-headed we can be." This made it sound like Khaos had been the only saving grace for some universes and accepting Him was the only way out of whatever quagmire they were facing. Did this mean that ultimately I had no choice but to do what Khaos wanted? That made me uneasy. Yet this impossible choice was being disguised as some sort of huge decision on my part, with fanfare to make me go along with it willingly. "Shall we?"

I nodded, and we went back in. It wasn't like I was completely opposed to accepting whatever arrangement Khaos wanted. From what my alternate self had shown me, this deal was a lot bigger than me and bigger than anything I'd ever known. It seemed like an opportunity that only I could have – something only I could do. This was a place where every version of myself was accepted and found a way to be successful. I had felt so lost on Earth, ever since I'd been released. I had been running from one thing to another – from the apocalypse to my former apprentices, from Heaven to Hell – never staying in one place and doing many things at once in order to find direction. Here, I had the chance to do partake in what Khaos did – balance the forces of creation. This was something really important that literally no one else could do but Him and I. It was certainly more important than whatever work I'd done for God in Heaven and on Earth. I would be remiss to reject this opportunity. Staying optimistic, I came face-to-face with Theta again.

"Hope you enjoyed the tour," He greeted us once again.

"She's ready," Sophia informed Him.

"Very well, then," He turned to face me. "Here's the part I don't enjoy very much. First things first, let's talk about your debt. It's the first step to joining us. Just like your other self here, you'd been taken from your home universe into its sister universe. Or brother universe, I should say. And taking things from one universe to another… it creates an imbalance. This is why, everything you've done so far constitutes an _aberration._ I don't like that word – _aberration_ – but that's what it is. Thing is, it won't be an aberration anymore if you restored the balance."

I nodded slowly. "So… I need to give something back to Amara's universe. Is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly."

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for a response. "Okay, what?"

Theta fidgeted, His stick fingers touching the back of His neck. "I hate being the one to bring bad news, and my counterparts have always left the job of telling people bad things to me, which I totally despise them for, by the way…" He paused. "Your son. We want your son."

* * *

A/N:

Oh shit, what will Sophia do? We'll find out in the chapters to come!

Also, the song that Zara sings to Luc is The Seven Sisters by Celldweller, which is a song I've always thought to be something you'd sing to a child. And if I was being honest with you, this minute detail will be very important to the story later.


	37. The Chosen Pessimist

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Hi everyone and thanks for the new follows/favourites! This chapter will be a direct continuation of the previous one so if you haven't already, read Chapter 36 before this one. I hope you enjoy :)

 **Chapter 37: The Chosen Pessimist**

(Zara POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 6 July 2011, 11.35pm**_

Sam awoke to the stinging pain of liquid being poured on his wounds. He groaned aloud, suddenly conscious, and blinked furiously to find the source of the pain. His vision focussed on Zara, who stood over him and was now pouring some kind of aseptic solution on his body. She dabbed away on his wounds with gauze, throwing pieces upon pieces onto the table next to her as they soaked up the blood. "Z-Zara-"

"I'm gonna do the best I can, Sam," she cut him off. "I need you to trust me and do as I say." Her hand paused at the straps binding his wrist. "I need you to promise me that you'll follow me."

He regarded her brown eyes momentarily. He didn't want to trust her but it seemed like there was no other choice. _What if this is a trap?_ he thought. But nothing could be greater torment than the time he'd endured in the cage. He'd just have to take a chance on this one. "Okay. I will, I promise," he said as genuinely as he could.

Taking a deep breath, she undid the straps binding both his wrists and he sat up, feeling the marks around his wrists. It was almost numb, whatever he felt in his fingers. His body ached with effort and discomfort as he sat up – he felt muscles that hadn't contracted in a while, all coming back to life. Then, as she observed him for a while to make sure he was okay, his hands suddenly reached out and grabbed her neck, pulling her face close to his. Her hands encircled his as she gasped for breath under his iron grip around her throat which was suffocating her. A murderous glint flashed in his eyes as he saw hers, widened in shock and clamouring for life. "P-please… Sam…" she struggled to say. "I wanna… help…"

He felt her life pulsing in his grasp. Why shouldn't he murder this woman, who had been an accomplice to the torment he had to endure the past few weeks? It would be easy – just one flick of the wrist and the snap of her neck in his hands would finish her. But he saw in her eyes a sincerity – the only sign of humanity he had been permitted to see in this dark confinement. He let go. She heaved for breath, bending over in front of him and feeling around her neck. Truth be told, she expected a little more gratitude. She was also taken by surprise by the amount of strength he had, considering he was being kept barely alive. But there was no time for hesitation, especially when Sophia could be back any moment. She regained her composure, turned to the table next to her and brandished a glass of water and a plate with a sandwich on it in front of Sam. He downed the whole glass in a few gulps and began on the sandwich, savouring its taste. He would never take another sandwich for granted again. While he was doing this, she brought out bandages and began covering his arms. The previous night, she had taken his wallet and that morning, she had ventured out to the nearest town and gotten supplies. It was quite a long walk to the nearest road, she'd discovered, and an even longer journey to civilisation. This place really _was_ in the middle of nowhere.

She'd come back prepared with a first aid kit, along with a splint and crutch for Sam's busted knee. She only hoped she could get him out in time. She had also chosen to do this at night, when Luc was asleep, so he would not have to see any of this. It was safer for him and for them that he knew nothing about this. As she handed him his shirt and jacket and undid the straps around his ankles, they both seemed to have eased up around each other, an unspoken trust forming between them. "What changed your mind?" Sam finally asked.

She looked at him from where she was putting on a coat of her own. Her eyes hovered to the ground, considering whether or not she should tell him. But he had helped her discover who she really was underneath, and that was quite intimate. "The kid." She paused. "Luciel is… a good and pure child. I just couldn't do this… without feeling like I didn't deserve to be around him."

Sam now saw her in a new light. She wasn't just someone too weak to say no to an archangel, she wasn't someone too scared to defy one, but she was someone being eaten away by guilt – all because of this child that Bobby had shown him and Dean to be a force of pure destruction. Maybe God did want them to have this child. Maybe it wasn't the child who should be their target but his parents instead.

"Here, let me help," she put his arm around her shoulder as he got a hold of the crutch. As they both turned to move towards the stairs, they both froze on the spot. Luc was standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the both of them. That was when Zara realised that she had left the door to the basement open in hopes that she would get in and get out quickly.

"Uh hey, Luc," she began nervously as she went towards him and picked him up. "What are you doing here? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Who's that, Zara?" he asked innocently, pointing a tiny finger at Sam. Her initial questions could not distract him from the pressing sight before him. It seemed that he could not recognise Sam from his earlier contact with Sam's consciousness, and Zara thought that this could be because of the damage inflicted on his soul and mind by the cage, which wasn't there when Sophia pulled out Sam's consciousness.

"That's uh… that's my friend," she replied. "Do you wanna say hi?" She brought him closer and Sam managed to crack a soft smile. "This is Sam."

"Hi Sam," he greeted, waving his small palm.

Sam's eyes softened, taken by the charm of this child. "Hi Luc. Nice to meet you." He couldn't help but think that this kid he was seeing, though he could only see its human vessel, was his kid – his and Zara's.

"What happened to him?" Luc pointed to the bandages.

Zara's mouth opened and closed as she thought of how she would answer that question. "Well… Sam and I were… playing… and he got hurt."

"Oh no!" Luc exclaimed, covering his hands to his mouth in surprise.

"Yeah," she nodded. "This is why you have to be careful when you're playing. And it's past your bedtime so we'll have to put you to sleep, okay?" Before she could turn to go upstairs, Luc reached out to Sam and planted his palm on Sam's shoulder. Using what he had learnt before from Sophia, he healed all of Sam's wounds.

Finding that he could stand on both legs again and that his body didn't hurt all over anymore, Sam patted his torso with his hands, relishing the feel. He let out a deep breath, almost unable to believe what just happened. "Oh my God, um, thank you, Luc." He patted the kid on his head.

"I'm so proud of you!" Zara kissed his forehead a few times causing him to giggle. Seeing as how Sam was back in good condition, she showed him up to the bedroom and got him to take a shower, a command he was more than willing to accept.

The three of them stood on the front porch, facing the long dirt path that led to the main road. "I'll be right back, okay? You have to stay asleep this time," she ordered Luc.

"But I wanna come with you!" he pleaded. "Pleaaasseee!"

Zara looked over to Sam, who simply shrugged his shoulders. She sighed. "Alright, but don't tell Mommy, okay?" _Ah heck, she's gonna find out from me anyway._

With Luc on her hip, she gave Sam a flashlight and the both of them walked down the dirt path. The breeze was very chilly and crickets chirped all around them. Sam continued to hold onto the hope that this wasn't a trap while Zara hoped he wasn't going to murder her in the process. Luc, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy this night-time adventure and kept pointing out every single insect and bird that he saw moving among the branches. During that moment, it seemed like they were one wholesome family, except both Zara and Sam knew that this would be impossible. With Sam's life as a hunter, he was constantly in danger, not to mention the hallucinations. He worried that he wouldn't be able to protect Zara and Luc from dangerous monsters, or even himself. As for Zara, she was distressed about what Sophia would do in retaliation to what she had done. Even if Sophia did as Zara would suggest and got another vessel for Lucifer, she would have the wrath of not one, but two archangels bearing down on her. This may as well be the last time she got to see Luc, since she could be sure that Sophia wouldn't let her see the real world anymore.

Finally, they came upon a car that Zara had rented. Sam offered to drive but Zara strictly told him not to since he needed plenty of rest. Instead, Zara took the wheel while Sam sat in the passenger seat with Luc on his lap. "Where to?" she asked as soon as they got onto the main road.

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Oh wait… I should probably ask-" His eyes widened when he remembered Sophia telling him that Dean was dead. "Wait, Zara, is Dean…"

Dread filled her chest when she thought to how Sophia reached into Dean's guts and felt his insides. Disgust threatened to send her into a shuddering fit but she tried to push those images out of her mind. "No. No, your brother is alive," she reassured him. Zara dug into her pocket and fished out her phone for him to use. Meanwhile, she drove towards the nearest town in case they had to change route, so long as they got away from the house.

"Dean, it's me," he said into the phone.

" _Sam? Holy shit, where have you been?"_ Dean's alarmed voice blared through the speaker of the phone.

"It's complicated. I'll tell you everything once I get to you. Where are you now?"

" _Dude, Bobby and I have been looking all over for you. We're in Bootbock, Kansas, right now."_

Sam seemed puzzled. The name Bootbock brought back memories of Cas and Purgatory. "Bootbock? Wasn't that where-"

" _Long story. I'll tell you all about it when you get here. You gonna make it here alright? You need backup or anything?"_

"Actually, I got some," he looked over to Zara, who seemed to be focussed on the road. A frown riddled her forehead as she stared ahead. "I'll see you in a bit," he cut the call.

"Bootbock should be three or four hours away. We'll be there by daybreak. You should get some sleep," she told him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She glanced at him, before returning her eyes to the road. "I'm just… scared."

He tried to empathise with her. She had stuck her neck out for him. This was a big deal and he wanted to make sure she was going to be alright. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We've taken down The Devil before. What's another archangel?"

"Huh. Yeah," she smirked. But underneath it all, she had a different plan. She was determined to save Sam, but that included more sacrifice on her part than he realised. "You'd better get some sleep before Luc wakes up again." He looked down to see that Luc was sound asleep on his chest. "Kid can't be tamed when he's up and running," she joked.

* * *

 _ **Bootbock, Kansas – 7 July 2011, 4.12am**_

Dean waited anxiously by the window of the motel room. He'd been unable to sleep, worried sick about his brother. Bobby dozed off on a bed nearby. The older man had told Dean to get some sleep and that if Sam could call them to say that he was alright then he would be okay. Besides, it would probably take him a while to get to them, he reasoned. Nevertheless, Dean wanted to be up the moment his brother rolled into town, just in case.

"Bobby, wake up. Sam just called," Dean slightly nudged him. "He'll be here any minute."

Bobby dragged himself out of bed and rubbed his eyes, drifting awake. "He said he had backup?"

"Yeah, thank God. We should buy whoever they are ten beers," Dean remarked. Both men turned to the door at the sound of a car pulling up. "That's him."

Dean hurried to the door and pulled it open. What he saw in front of him gave him pause. "I don't believe it…" he muttered.

"What's the matter?" Bobby asked as he got out of the bathroom. He became alarmed when Dean pulled out a gun from his back pocket and held it ready behind his back.

They both watched in horror as Sam walked in with a child sleeping on his shoulder and Zara behind him. "Hey Dean, Bobby," he greeted. But their eyes were fixed on Zara, the face of the very thing that almost killed them about a week before. Dean swiftly pulled out his gun and aimed it at her head. She gasped and took a step back as Sam came between them and held his arm out towards his brother. "Dean, no."

"Tell me why I shouldn't blow her brains out right now!" Dean's jaw clenched. His eyes held a clear disdain for her.

"Because she saved me. And there's a child in this room," he said firmly. "She's not possessed right now," he stated, as though anyone needed telling.

"How do you know that?" Dean remained sceptical still.

"Dean, we came here in a car." He refused to budge between the gun and Zara. "Please."

Dean held Sam's gaze for a moment. Then he tilted the gun upwards to show that he was relenting and put it back into its holster. "Alright. Start talking."

Half an hour later, Sam had finished relating his side of events. Dean was still furious about the whole thing, and hearing what had happened did not ease his opinion of Zara. "Let me get this straight. Sophia left your body on her own, and it took you a whole week to release him?" Her shoulders jerked at the sound of his harsh voice. His tone scared Zara and he could tell, but he didn't care.

"Dude, quieten down. You're gonna wake the kid," Sam advised.

"Since when do angels sleep?" Bobby asked, finally putting forth the question he'd had on his mind since the two of them entered the room.

"Baby angels need sleep, apparently," Zara informed him. "That's all I know."

"Anyway, all that matters is that we're here, now," Sam eyed his brother, hoping to calm him down. "What are you guys doing here?"

"About that," Dean began. He looked to Zara. "It's kind of a need-to-know situation."

Zara rolled her eyes. She'd figured they would be working up a plan to take out Sophia. It was probably best that she didn't hear what they were doing. "I was gonna leave anyway," she got up.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam stood up, eyebrows creasing.

She extended her hands, wanting to take Luc back into her arms. "Where do you think? I gotta go back, Sam."

Sam refused to budge. "No, why would you do that? I told you we can help you."

"Look, when Sophia gets back, she's gonna be pissed. You think she can't find me, or her own son? When she does, I have to be there to do damage control. It's the best shot you got," she reasoned.

"This is ridiculous!" Dean exclaimed. "You are _not_ going to say 'yes' to her again!"

"Then what, Dean? She shows up in another vessel, murders us all, and takes her son back anyway? All I'm saying is, this is my mess. If she comes back to me, I can try to reason with her. She'll listen to me." She begged them with her eyes to believe her.

"And if she doesn't?" Bobby chimed in.

"Then it'll be me who pays the price. Not anyone else. I suggest that all of you go as far away from here as possible and stay somewhere warded from angels."

"Not gonna happen. You're not leaving!" Dean pointed an accusatory finger at Zara. At that moment, Luc's head shifted and his eyes fluttered open.

"Great job, Dean. Now he's awake," Sam shook his head. Dean simply blinked, not knowing how to respond to that.

This time Sam handed him over to Zara, who caressed his head gently and hummed a soft tune. Within moments, Luc went back to sleep. The men simply stared as she did her thing, amazed by her gentleness and way with the child. In a softer voice, Sam spoke again. "Zara, please, we can figure out what to do about Sophia later. But trust me, we _will_ find a way."

"Okay, let's say she's not a problem anymore. Then what? You got any idea how to raise an archangel?" she rebutted. "You even have kids?"

"No but-"

"He doesn't even know how to control his powers!" she cut him off with a pointed whisper.

"But he healed me!" Sam's fingers curved inwards to point to himself.

"He what?" Dean interjected.

"Dean, I was being tortured. I had wounds all over my body. Even had a broken knee. The kid just walks in and touches me and bam, I'm all fixed up."

"That's only because something killed the dog and Sophia taught him how to heal it," Zara explained, to the surprise of everyone else in the room. Dean mouthed _"The dog?"_ with a puzzled expression but never pursued the question. "Point is, without an archangel or at least an angel to teach him, he won't learn how to control his powers and who knows what'll happen then."

In that moment, the three men all thought the same thing – this would be a lot easier if Castiel was around. But none wanted to bring up their dead friend again. "Sam, I care about this child," Zara confessed. "He may not be human but he's still my son. And it seems to me that the best shot he has in this world is if at least one of his parents is still around."

"What about us, huh? We're his parents too," Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up," Dean put up both his arms. "Say that again?"

"You didn't tell them?" Zara questioned.

Sam's gaze flickered between Dean and Bobby. "This kid was… _made_ … after I said 'yes' to Lucifer. He's my son."

"Would've been helpful to mention _that_ at the start!" Bobby snapped at him.

"Yeah well-" Sam paused, unsure of how to phrase it. "I wasn't sure that it was a good thing, or even useful information."

"Doesn't matter. You should've told us," Dean said sternly. He crossed his arms and looked away for a moment, thinking about what to make of this. "You know what, Sam's right. Zara and the kid should stay with us, where we can keep on eye on them."

"How am I supposed to raise a kid with three humans who'll just be Sophia's punching bags? You expect me to feel safe with you? And _you_ ," Zara glared at Sam. "With your fading grip on reality, you think you can be a good father to Luc?"

Dean and Bobby shared a shocked expression. So far they'd avoided thinking about Sam's hallucinations. They were just relieved that he seemed to be holding it together then. "It's gotten better," Sam admitted. "I can still tell what's real and what's not, I swear."

"The fact that you even have to tell me that…" Zara shook her head. "Look, the three of you, whatever you're gonna do to try to stop Sophia, go ahead. Do it. But don't expect me to help you take her down. I've already stuck my neck out far enough. Please do me this courtesy and let me go before she comes back."

A tense silence eclipsed the room, until Bobby spoke up. "You realise that if you go, and we try to gank her – which we will, by the way – you're also gonna take the fall."

"I know," she released a breath. "I'm okay with that."

Bobby relaxed his shoulders. "Fine," he said, refusing to look at her.

"Bobby, come on," Sam beckoned.

"You heard her, Sam. She's not gonna help us, but she's not gonna stand in our way either," Bobby concluded.

"This is insane. Dean?" Sam looked to him for support.

But what Dean had to say was much less reassuring. "What if we use this to our advantage? We let her say 'yes', trap her and then gank her. This way we can make sure that Sophia can't hurt us."

"I think that goes against everything I've said so far," Zara muttered.

"You don't care about dying. That's what you said," Dean said in a firm tone, muscles tensing. He still didn't trust her and he wasn't going to let an opportunity to kill the evil bitch that kidnapped and tortured his brother pass.

"I also said I wanted my son to have an archangel parent," she replied with an equally firm tone. They both glared into each other's eyes with an intensity that could spark a fire. "You wanted your brother back and I got him back for you. Now let me go do what I have to do." The men remained silent as she gathered herself to leave.

"Wait, before you go," Sam halted her step. "Was it true? Did God… want this child?"

Her brown eyes softened as she slowly nodded. "Yes, it's true." The three men exchanged astonished gazes.

She walked unimpeded to the door of the motel room and got to the car before Sam stopped her. His hand gently rested on her shoulder to stop her as her hand reached out to the handle of the car door. "Hey, I never got to thank you for what you did. Thank you. I know how hard it must've been for you."

His thanks meant more to her than she realised. It reminded her that she was still human and capable of doing good things despite having been a member of the other side all this while. She smiled at him for one last time. Sam caressed the back of Luc's head, which serenely rested on her right shoulder, before he bent down to kiss him. "I hope we meet again, Sam, under different circumstances," she told him before she got into the car.

Dean and Bobby simply watched from the open door of the motel room. Dean wondered what it would actually have been like if she and the kid could stay with them without the threat of an archangel looming over their heads. Just thinking about his little brother being a father would have given him the warm and fuzzies on a normal day, but like everything else in their lives, this was a complicated matter by itself. Nothing was simple for them. There was once that Dean had tried to be a simple man but fate had proved his efforts to be futile when he had to ask his own best friend to erase the memories of the people he loved – Lisa and Ben. And now he had to see his own younger brother say goodbye to a son he only knew for a short while.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Omniverse, The Void – Unspecified Time**_

I nodded slowly. "So… I need to give something back to Amara's universe. Is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly."

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for a response. "Okay, what?"

Theta fidgeted, His stick fingers touching the back of His neck. "I hate being the one to bring bad news, and my counterparts have always left the job of telling people bad things to me, which I totally despise them for, by the way…" He paused. "Your son. We want your son."

My heart froze. "You want me to _what?_ " Now it all made sense. That last condition – a sacrifice of my own essence. My own child, who was made of my essence.

"It's the price of your crossing. Show us you are willing to make the sacrifice and all our secrets and power will be yours too," Theta explained.

"No!" The answer seemed so straightforward to me. "I don't want anything you have to give me if this is the price!"

"This isn't just about you," the other Sophia spoke up. "It's not just about whether you want this or not. It's about the balance between the two universes you come from. You have to do the right thing."

"Would you do it?" I snapped at her. "Give up your own child?"

She shrank back, taken aback by my outburst. "I wouldn't know. I don't have any children."

Theta stepped between us, giving me a sympathetic look. "I understand that this must be difficult for you, but it must be done. Turn the child over to us and we will see to it that he makes it to the sister universe safely."

"You're asking me to send my son to a place that was so bad that I ran away from it in the beginning of time! How does that make sense?" My fingers quivered just thinking about the horrors I'd seen from that place.

"I'll have you know, it's not that bad of a place," Theta put up a finger to emphasise his point. "I'll personally see to it that no harm comes to him."

"The answer is still no," I shook my head and put my hands up, unwilling to negotiate.

"Sophia," His tone took a dark turn. I looked up, surprised by his sudden change in demeanour. "This doesn't have to end badly. If you don't do as we say, you'll find that things go wrong very quickly."

"You're threatening me now?" I glared at Sophia. "And you're okay with this?" I threw my hands up. "Of course, you're complicit in all of this, aren't you?" _To think I could trust another version of myself…_

"I'm telling you to do what is best for you!" she retorted. "What is a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things? And you could always have more children!"

I huffed, and then chuckled sardonically. _Have more children!_ _As if they were replaceable!_ "I'm having none of this. And you!" I pointed at Theta. "How could you think to make me a _friend_ when you demand something like this of me?"

"Someone with a gift like you could always use a shoulder to lean on," He replied. "After what you're about to do, no one's going to be left for you. No one but me. I'll accept you no matter what you do."

"If this is the price of my freedom, I'd rather you just lock me back up again," I bravely put forth.

"That's… not gonna happen," Theta declared. "You see, we inscribed this condition on the vault to give you a heads-up on what's coming next. We don't mean to keep you caged up like an animal. If anything, 'freedom' is a metaphor for your liberation from the constraints of your universe!"

"I'm still not doing it," I crossed my arms. "Take me back home. I won't hear any of this anymore."

"Fine, alright. I'll take you back. But be warned, you _will_ fulfil this debt. You have no choice in the matter. And when all is said and done, your place here will be ready and waiting for you," He concluded.

I clenched my fists. I was seething with rage at this point. How dare He think that I would give up my own child for the sake of power or feeling accepted or whatever? That seemed so ridiculous a notion. I could already imagine myself chuckling with Lucifer that this was even something someone put forth to me. As long as I had him and my son, I didn't need anything else.

* * *

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 8 July 2011, 10.05am**_

Many days had passed since I'd left. When I came upon the house, Zara was sitting on the front porch with Luc waddling about in front of her. The sun was up, the clouds drifted lazily, my garden was looking well – things seemed perfect. I was glad that things were going well at least on this front. As I got nearer, she looked up at me and I saw in her eyes exhaustion and maybe a hint of fear, I don't know. Had she been staying up all night? What for? "Accept me again," I requested.

"Yes," she spoke firmly. There was a bright flash of light and I flowed into her, filling up her vessel. As I opened my eyes once again from her body, I realised what was wrong. The rage I'd felt just moments before with Khaos came bubbling up again. I saw her memories of everything that had happened. I couldn't believe it.

"I trusted you," I told her in the shared space that was our head. "How dare you do such a thing?"

 _Please, Sophia, listen. We can find another-_

"You had so much potential, Zara," bitterness laced my voice. "And you chose to throw it all away!"

 _I'm begging you, please hear me out._

"There's nothing you can say to make this right." After the ordeal with Khaos, I had little patience left to deal with the defiance of one human. Personally, I felt betrayed. She had so much promise. She was smart enough to find me and help Lucifer get me out of the vault. She had helped us during the apocalypse. She barely said a word throughout this whole time I'd been in her body. I even thought of her as a friend. Why had she chosen to deflect now? Words could not express my disappointment. All I knew was that I had to get her in line if I were to carry on.


	38. The Will to Power

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 38: The Will To Power**

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 8 July 2011, 10.10am**_

I sat still on the porch, my feet rested on the step in front of me such that I could rest my elbows on my knees, as I contemplated my next move. This wasn't easy for me. I cared about Zara and I had considered myself lucky that she was who she was – without her, I could have never been reunited with my heartmate. I thought this would suffice to bind us together not just physically but also emotionally. I wanted our successes to be shared, our personalities to complement each other. I wanted to share the rest of my life with her. But I leave for one moment, and she takes away from me what I needed to be with Lucifer again. All because of what? Human guilt? "You were only going to have to deal with being human for a few days. You should have held fast. You should have had faith in me. I could have helped you get over this. I could have given you _anything_ you wanted," I berated her. She said nothing, only feeling despair for what was to come next. "I love you, Zara, and because of that, I am afraid I have to teach you a lesson. It won't be an easy one."

As I got up, I noticed Luc staring at me. He'd paused whatever he was doing, only observing me with his arms held close to his chest. My worries temporarily pushed aside, I picked him up eagerly and rained kisses on his cheeks and forehead. "I missed you, baby," I told him. I felt a warmth in my chest to have him in my arms. No, I wasn't going to give up the best thing that ever happened to me to Khaos.

"Where did Zara go, Mommy?" he asked.

"She's right here, Luc. Mommy's keeping her safe," I put a hand to my chest. "She's resting."

"Aw, I'll miss her," he looked down at the ground, momentarily sad. My heart broke a little, thinking that he had still developed an attachment to her despite the short amount of time they had spent together. Being in this vessel meant that I would be the one he saw most of the time, unless I had to leave my vessel like I just had – which I hoped I wouldn't be doing anymore of because I wasn't sure I could trust Zara again like that.

That was when I saw them again – the 'Agents of Khaos'. They stood as they had before in the field, like statues waiting to be awoken. Seeing them in broad daylight like this could have been heart-stopping for anyone, what with their ancient, mysterious aura and their unchanging gazes. Leaving Luc to explore the field as he always did, I approached the beings again. "Why are you here, _Zorg_?" I gave him a pointed glare. "If your boss wants to talk to me again, you can tell Him to forget it."

"We are here for you to fulfil your debt," he replied robotically, as usual.

"As I told Him, I'm not doing it. You're just wasting your time."

"According to my calculations, it is you who are wasting your time. The debt will be fulfilled." His eyes stared blankly ahead. Sometimes I wondered if there really was life in there, in that stony body of his.

"Okay…" I crossed my arms, unsure how to be brazen to something that probably couldn't understand it. "Riddle me this, creature: if Khaos wants this debt fulfilled so bad, why hasn't He nabbed my son Himself?" Not saying I wanted that to happen, but it seemed pretty obvious that Khaos had every opportunity to take what He wanted, with or without my knowledge. There seemed to be a deeper mystery behind it all.

"The condition is a sacrifice. Sacrifices have to be made by individuals. In this case, the individual is you," he replied plainly. "Your willing participation is necessary."

"My consent, huh?" Strange to think that now it was my consent that mattered. Khaos wanted from me what I wanted from Sam. Question is, how far was He willing to go for it? "Well you're never gonna have it."

"I am programmed to give you a warning in the case that you reject: This world will suffer the consequences of your negligence. Indeed, the wrath of Khaos is mighty and damning," he recited. What was this, some kind of prophecy?

"Is that supposed to scare me?" I huffed.

"Yes."

"Rhetorical question, dummy." This was preposterous. Khaos was operating under the assumption that I even cared what He did to me or anyone else. I really didn't care what happened to the humans or angels or demons, and those that I cared about were strong enough to take care of themselves. "Are you just going to stand there?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Until you agree to the sacrifice."

"Well then, you better not kill my dog again."

Coming away from that conversation like I'd wasted my time, I wanted to get to the main order of business that day. But first, I'd had to drop Luc off with Pahaliah to babysit him. This was something I needed to do alone. With Zara.

* * *

 _ **Random nightclub, Los Angeles – 8 July 2011, 11.23pm**_

Young people bustled about, swaying to the beat of whatever noise they preferred to listen and dance to. Among the intoxicated youths I blended in, wearing a skimpy black dress of my own. Normally, I'd wear long, flowing dresses – Lucifer had said they made me look a lot older than I was, but I preferred it that way. Here, however, I was aiming to look like just another directionless youngster coming to the club to get drunk and have a good time. I could sense Zara's discomfort at showing so much of her skin but it was part of the disguise. "This is all part of the lesson," I told her.

I placed my forearms on the illuminated counter as I scanned the shelves of alcoholic beverages before me. "Give me something hot," I beckoned the bartender. Nodding absently, as these people do when faced with large crowds, he went off to fulfil my order.

"I'd say it's hot enough next to you," a feminine voice said next to me. I turned to my left to have a better look at her, this brown-haired, hazel-eyed girl with the cherry lips. She eyed me seductively, her drunken gaze scanning me up and down. I returned her invitation with a furtive smile of my own as I studied her marble cheekbones and her short-cut hair. Her Maybelline-lined eyes glistened upon realising my accepting her flirtation. "I'm Anne, by the way," her hand extended to me.

"Zara," I returned the handshake. "So tell me, Anne, what do you do?"

"I work in HR in a local tech firm," she answered. _At least you won't be missed,_ I thought. "And you?"

"I'm a scientist," I fabricated. Well, at least it was true for the time before Zara left.

"That must be a cool thing to say," she mused. The bartender placed a glass full of a steamy amber liquid before me. Its earthy scent was a delight to be near. For that reason alone, I entertained conversation with this dull mortal while she sipped on something more alcoholic than what I had. Finally, when I'd judged that the conversation had gone on long enough for our choice of topics to be wider than when it began, I pulled out an old relic of mine that may have been of particular significance to Zara.

"I bought this some time ago, and I was wondering whether it made good decoration for my bookshelf. What do you think?" I put forth to my drunken accomplice. She hefted the metal hawk figurine in her palm, feeling its ridges and grooves. This figurine had been a gift to me from Hassiel long ago and having been with me for so long it had become useful as a way for Lucifer to track my vessel down. That was quite a challenge as Heaven had tried to erase all traces of my existence not only from Heaven but also Earth (a rant for another time), which included the name of my vessel. No one knew it was to be Zara, until Lucifer had used this hawk statue to locate her. I suspected that it also reacted in some way to people who could be my temporary vessels, which brought me to why I was here.

"Wow, this is… beautiful. Yeah, I could totally see it making a bookshelf look… _really_ good." Anne let out an extensive chuckle as she put one hand firmly on the counter to steady herself. The small emeralds that studded the figurine where its eyes were emitted a faint green glow. "Oh look, it lights up too. What is it, is it touch-sensitive or something?"

"Something like that," I replied as I retrieved the object from her. "You seem like you could use a ride home. Why don't I get you a cab?"

"Tha-That's really nice of you," she spoke with a voice that began to drawl. This woman had low thresholds of trust, seeing as she held onto my arm intimately with eyes half-closed while I led her to the backroom of the club as inconspicuously as I could. It was only when we began walking down stairs that she began to have suspicions. "This doesn't look like the exit…"

"Don't worry, I'm bringing you out the less crowded way. Wouldn't want to lose you with all those people now, do I?"

Another long laugh. "You're a very thoughtful person…"

Anne basically hobbled behind me as I led her by the hand into a supply closet that had enough open space for at least five people to lie down. On the metal racks, cleaning supplies were arranged neatly and the room was lit by a single flickering white light. "If you'll excuse me, Anne, I need to talk in private."

"What are we g-" I knocked her out with a single touch of a finger to the forehead and she plopped onto the floor with a _thud,_ her scarlet heels at obscene angles to each other.

"Do you see, Zara?" I said out loud. "This dull, empty human being could have held me, albeit for a short while. This person with the lack of ambition and the bad haircut and trashy taste in clothes. But it wasn't she who was meant for me. It was you."

 _Is this what you brought me here for? To mock other people?_

"Oh, that's not all, my mortal friend. You have to do your penance." I wasted no time in sitting on the unconscious woman's abdomen, holding her jaw up to expose her neck. I savoured the sharp sound of my switchblade swinging open as I triggered it and held the grind to the base of Anne's neck. "You see, Zara, there can be no one else. No one but you for me. Not this imposter, this lame excuse of a human being."

I felt Zara's fear. Her mind racing with the possibilities, none of which she wanted any part of. I relinquished some control over her arms to her and her panic grew considerably. _I don't know what you're implying,_ she said nervously. For me, on the other hand, it was much like teaching someone to face themselves, even if they didn't want to. I had to force her hand if she were to truly glean the lesson from this experience. There would be no boundaries between us after this.

"Oh but I think you do. End her." If I wasn't in control of her heart, it would be pounding madly now.

 _You have control over my body. You do it,_ she remained defiant.

"You have to be the one to do this. If you truly cared, if you truly sought liberation from your boring, directionless old life, you will prove to me that you are the only one for me."

 _You already hurt and slay others without my consent as it is. Please don't make me do this,_ she begged.

"You don't understand, do you?" I paused. "You were made for me. Your whole life led to you finding me and being mine. You ran away from home, just as I did from my mother. You ran into Lucifer's arms, just like I did. Did you never stop to think about why it was so easy for you to say 'yes' to him? To agree to do whatever he wanted you to do?"

 _Uhh… I was tripping? On LSD? Does that even count as consent?_

"LSD takes you to the centre of your mind. In your subconscious, there are no lies. Lucifer found you when you were most likely to speak the truth, and this is what you wanted."

I sensed her thinking through her whole life, wondering if she'd made a mistake somewhere along the way. Whether she actually did the right thing. She was actually questioning what drove her to say 'yes' in the first place. _I said 'yes' because… I was curious,_ she confessed.

"I know you were. I see all the hours you spent scrounging for all those books about Lucifer and me. I heard your prayers to me. Your whole life, that feeling of being lost and uncertain, you were looking for answers. And when you learnt you could find them with me, you just couldn't resist. That is who you are."

 _But I didn't sign up to kill people! You wanna do that, fine. You're a celestial being with no qualms about murder and suffering. But don't expect me to want this!_ she boldly asserted. I liked her nerve, speaking to me like that. I would have expected no less from my vessel. _I didn't want to see Sam suffer. He's a human being and I'm sorry I broke down but I saw no other way to live with myself. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm sorry, Sophia, that I ever disobeyed you. I was just following the truth wherever it took me._

"You speak well. I'm impressed. Now kill this woman or I'll leave you and drop you back in your familial home. You don't want that, do you? After what you've seen, you don't want to go back to that life anymore. I can tell. So do this one thing, and all will be right between us."

I felt tears she wanted to shed but could not. Her inner conflict was surfacing at this point. Give up a life of adventure with an archangel or drive a knife through an innocent human. Curiosity versus humanity. What would you pick, Zara? _I know I sought you. I worshipped you. I loved you. But why is_ this _the answer? Why must I kill this woman?_ she went on.

"Because I want you as much as you want me. No one else can come between us. No temporary vessels. Imagine, if we could kill every other human who could contain me even for a short while, you would be the only one on earth I could have. Don't you see the beauty in that? Kill her and show me how much you want to be with me," I laid out. "Look at her."

Anne was still unconscious. Her fake lashes cast a dark shadow on her cheekbones. Her carefully-tailored eyebrows made her look serene, almost like an image of one of those angels that renaissance artists painted – the ones who lay around lazily and prettily. I forced her gaze to Anne's neck, that bare expanse where the future of our connection lay. It was slender and her skin was soft. I could feel her pulse as soon as I put a thumb to the side of her neck. "Do you feel that? That is her life flowing through her arteries. Will you let this woman's life severe the bond between us?" I forced her to remember her mundane life – the parts where she felt most removed from reality and the times when she thought about me the most. "Heaven tried to keep you from me, but you found me anyway. Isn't that evidence enough of what you were meant to do?"

I felt her mind shifting. Suddenly her knuckles tightened around the hilt of the blade. She pressed the blade closer to Anne's neck, but then she paused. Doubts swirled in her head, yet she stood at the precipice of realising something about what we had together. "Do it, Zara. You're so close," I encouraged her. Her breathing grew shallower as I retreated control from her body and observed solely from her mind. Her vision grew clearer and quavered at the same time. She wondered if she could actually do it – kill a person – and not face any consequences. "I am the highest authority you know. And you are as close to me as is humanly possible. There are no legal or moral repercussions here."

At that moment, a soft groan pierced the deadly silent air. Anne's head swayed slightly and Zara's grip on the blade jerked and loosened. "Do it, Zara, before she makes any noise. Not that I care, but I don't think you'd want that."

The woman's eyes shifted open slowly and then, realising the fatal position she was it, her eyes opened so wide that her brown irises appeared as full circles. Zara's own panic rose proportionately. There was a short moment between this rude awakening and the contraction of Anne's facial muscles around her mouth to scream. That was the telling moment. As we observed her glossy lips opening and felt her vocal chords stretching, Zara instinctively grabbed onto her neck with her left hand and drove the knife into the skin with her right. The blood came out in drops at first and then, like the great flood, it flowed abundantly.

I saw what was happening in Zara's mind. She just kept staring at the blood, ignoring the dying groans of her victim which also came with gasps spurting out blood and quivering hands that weakly tried to push us away. Zara was completely taken by the sight of this crimson liquid continuing to flow, despite the knife still being buried in the woman's neck on its grind. She noticed how light glinted on its surface, how blood flowed past the knife, how her fingers became coated with the substance and felt increasingly sticky. She noticed how the pool of blood on the floor grew larger and larger, staining Anne's short-cut hair and forming a scarlet halo around her head. _She looks like an angel,_ Zara stated, feeling increasingly dissociated with who she used to think she was. _She reflects us._

I smiled, warmed by her decision. "You _do_ get it! You are capable of anything, you know that? Not because you said 'yes' to me. It's because you're willing to do what you need to do to become something greater. And I'm proud of you for it. You're the only human I want to share myself with and you've proven to me that I am right to want as much." I took back control of her body.

 _Am-am I forgiven now?_ her weary voice asked.

"Forgiveness is not something I can just give you. What you did, you must understand, was no small mistake. What you did is keeping me from Lucifer. What you did is keeping Luc from seeing his father. You took away something that I have wanted for hundreds of thousands of years. Do you understand the magnitude of your actions?"

 _I do,_ she answered. Her guilt was sincere.

"I'm in your head. I can see your thoughts, your memories. I know what you intended to tell me after letting Sam go. And since I can't change what you did, you leave me no choice but to take you up on your suggestion. If that goes our way, there is forgiveness for you yet. But I hope you know – if you try this again, I _will_ shut you out. Or worse, I might just abandon you. Think about it," I warned.

I stood up and looked at Anne one last time. "You were a martyr for a good cause," I praised. The dead woman's eyes were half-open and lifeless. I watched as her breathing slowed and eventually stopped, along with the outpouring of blood from that jagged slit across her neck which was deep enough to cause bleeding but not so deep as to make the process painless. Oh well, there's a first time for everything.

* * *

A/N:

Damn. Sophia is… intense. By now you must have noticed that Sophia's actions seem to reveal some kind of darkness within her. It certainly isn't something she's proud of, but her difficult time in the vault and in the past year separated from her beloved certainly is taking its toll on her. Not to mention that there are so many obstacles in her way. She's in a pretty dark place right now. What will it take to redeem her? (God knows). Don't worry about Lucifer, you'll get to seem him again, but at what cost? And what is Khaos planning? That sly Khaos…

Someone said that Zara seems like a chaotic neutral character and you are spot-on, anon! It definitely makes her indecisive and unpredictable at times and as you will see soon enough, she is pretty reckless. She is certainly an interesting character to write and if you're anything like me, you'll be in love with her. I just want to say this in advance: she is definitely devoted to Sophia, regardless of their history and travels together, or arguments. I would even say she is the "archangel whisperer". Zara may be a bit traumatised from this chapter, but she's a strong gal. She was built to withstand trials and become the confidante of the archangels.

As for her name, yes, there is a significance to it (I'd never pass the opportunity to foreshadow with such an important character). Zara means "princess" and her last name is Joshi, which is a common Indian last name which means "lightbringer or reflect like the sun", to quote Wikipedia. So if you put two and two together… make of that what you will. Another reason why I chose her name is that I am a big fan of Nietzsche and one of Nietzsche's books is called Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Zarathustra is the name of the main character of that book and so I took the first part of the name as reference to that. (On a side note, if anyone wants to talk about religion/philosophy, I'd be totally cool with that).

Okay, so I'd written everything above in advance, but today I woke up to the tragic news of Chester Bennington's death, which really impacted me in ways I didn't think it would. I've always drawn inspiration from metal/hard rock music and no doubt Linkin Park is one of those bands that I really enjoyed listening to. It really breaks my heart to hear of his suicide and now that I listen to all their songs again, I see the real meaning behind them – Chester used his music as an avenue to talk about his depression and substance abuse problem and you can see this in every single one of LP's albums. He deserved a lot better. So I wanna say, that if anyone is having such problems, please talk to someone about it. Don't face it alone. And if you know someone like that, please listen to them and make them feel loved. If you wanna talk to me about it, I'd be happy to listen too.


	39. The Levee Breaks Part I

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter will be the first of a two-part 'episode' that represents a crucial point in the story's timeline. Just to recap, Sophia has been trying to free Lucifer from his cage ever since she prevented Cas from opening Purgatory, with the help of Khaos. She had Sam and was trying to coerce him into accepting Lucifer again but Zara – her vessel – set him free when Sophia had momentarily left to chat with Khaos. In that fateful meeting with Khaos, Sophia finds out about his ulterior motive to get her son to the anti-matter universe to restore the balance between the two universes, to which she says 'screw you' for the right reasons. Still, Khaos appears persistent and eerily confident that He will get what He wants. Meanwhile, the Winchesters want to get some revenge and prevent Sophia from opening the cage by using the weapons of God that Cas previously had in his possession and are working with Crowley, who wants to overthrow Sophia to become the King of Hell. I hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter 39: The Levee Breaks Part I**

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Warded Underground Base, Jetson, Kansas – 11 July 2011, 11.06am**_

"You've got to be kidding me. You had the damn vessel _and_ the spawn of Satan and you let them both go?!" Crowley stared at the boys with eyes wide open and a frown that could kill. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Dean turned back to Crowley while Bobby and Sam loaded the weapons onto the back of a van. "It wouldn't have mattered whether we had them or not. We still got the goods."

"Unbelievable!" he exclaimed with a forced whisper.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Sam's head emerged from the back of the truck. "I'm back but you still get your end of the deal. You help us gank Sophia with the weapons. But you don't lay a finger on the kid, got it?"

"Getting a soft spot for Satan junior? I expected more from you, Sam," Crowley remarked.

"That's the new deal," Sam stated, his voice getting firmer when talking about Luc. "You bring us the kid, unharmed."

Crowley simply shrugged. "As long as I get to kill Lucifer's whore…" He dug his hands into his deep coat pockets, ruminating on what a great trophy Sophia's head would make.

Bobby approached Crowley, holding a cloth-wrapped item in his hand. "Fate-killing blade." Crowley reached out to take the weapon but Bobby withdrew his hand, stopping Crowley. "You'd better show us the body. With burnt wings and everything," he ordered. "And the blade still in her."

"Alright, Jesus," Crowley relented. "I wouldn't dream of deceiving you, Bobby."

"Save it," Bobby snapped. He handed the blade to Crowley.

"Sam, if you'll be so kind to tell me where the bitch is holed up," Crowley requested.

"No problem," Sam replied. He couldn't wait to rain hell on Sophia, the pain from the torture still fresh in his memory. He handed Crowley a piece of paper on which he'd noted the coordinates of the location. It had taken him a while, but some scouring on Google Maps helped him pinpoint the place. Just as he gave Crowley the palm-sized note, their environment seemed to have dimmed considerably. The men – and demon – looked skyward, but all they saw were clouds. However, it had been cloudy all morning, so what could have caused the sudden change?

Crowley squinted at the sky. "Something's up with the sun…"

"This seem like a bad omen?" Dean reckoned. Previously, it had only looked like it was going to rain. Now, everything looked like it was almost sunset. Something was definitely wrong.

Bobby opened the door to the driver's seat and fumbled with the radio. The monotonous voice of a female reporter blared through the speakers with a constant static rumble. " _Reports are now flooding in that a solar eclipse is taking place. NASA experts have no explanation for this phenomenon and are calling it a 'surprise' eclipse. The public is advised not to stare at the sun without proper eye protection…"_ Bobby shut off the radio.

"It's probably nothing," Sam speculated. He looked to Crowley, who was still staring at the sky, curious. "Right?"

"Probably…" Crowley agreed. "Probably not." Crowley's attention turned back to his immediate surroundings. "Who cares? I have an archangel to kill." With that, he vanished.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 11 July 2011, 11.06am**_

" _Here comes my coldest day…"_ I sang to Luc. " _With chill and snow. Blood freezes in my veins. I am Prince of Cold."_ His once charming baby giggles had now evolved to a wide smile of awe, now that he was a growing toddler. It just showed the depth in his thoughts, which I could not read but knew were there. I wished he would have been a baby forever. "That was a song about your father. You see, he is made of a core of ice and he rules the laws of coldness, just like how you and I rule the laws of nature."

"Where is my father, Mommy?" he asked out of the blue. Truly, I had not expected that question. I didn't think his thoughts had wandered to those kind of things. I probably shouldn't have been surprised since he was not a baby anymore. I suppose it was a good time as any to tell him the truth.

"When you were but a seed in my womb, some bad people put your father in a cage. But I promise you, Luc, you will meet him soon. Mommy's trying to get him out," I explained.

"Oh," he looked down at the ground, sullen. There was a sinking feeling in my chest to see him bothered by this.

"Don't be sad, okay? You'll see him soon and we'll be whole. The three of us," I caressed his head.

"Okay," he said, but his eyes told another story. Just a toddler and he was already capable of masking his true emotions. It worried me but I hoped it would be resolved in due time when I got Lucifer out. The thought did occur to me to consult Lucifer and tell him everything about his son. Every fibre in my body wanted to. I just felt queasy thinking about it because I didn't want him to wait any longer when I brought him news of his son. It must be horrible learning of such wonderful things while being confined in the cage. If Lucifer was to know his son, it must be outside the cage. I needed to find him a vessel no matter what, and the ache in my heart told me as much.

That was when the sky darkened. Heavy clouds migrated speedily across the sky, being ushered by strong winds. Then, like the sun had just switched off, the light diffused away slowly. I looked on to see if this would change but it did not; the skies only became gloomier. There, as the life-giving light faded from the field, I saw Zorg and his companion standing as they always had been – moody and stoic, unmoved from the position they were in since they landed here. Their dead eyes stared right through me. A shiver ran throughout me as I thought I heard a whisper saying, " _It's starting."_

Suddenly, a purple lightning pierced through the air and struck some point far ahead in the distance. As the lightning faded out, flames roared into the sky and I heard faint screams. This was it then – the prophecy. Khaos was just trying to scare me into submission and I had no intention of giving in, no matter how many fires he started. Those would only kill humans anyway. _Go ahead,_ my thoughts said. _Try your worst._

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Red Rose Motel, Jetson, Kansas – 11 July 2011, 1.02pm**_

"So… what, we just sit back, relax and wait for Crowley to call?" Sam looked over to his brother, who was intently watching Dr Sexy MD on the TV in their motel room.

"Yeah, gotta take a break whenever we can catch one, which isn't very often these days," Dean answered, eyes still glued to the TV screen. Sam remained silent, unamused neither by the TV show nor his brother's demeanour. His thoughts drifted to Zara and he wondered if they made the right call in letting her go. As though reading his thoughts, Dean said, "She's gone, Sammy. Nothing you or I could've done about it."

"I-I know. But still…" Sam gulped. "We could've at least tried. We failed her, Dean."

"I know," he replied, his own expression becoming sombre. Dean thought back to Carthage, Missouri, when he'd agreed to take Zara on their suicide run to shoot the devil with the Colt. It had gone against his every instinct to take her with them, but given that she seemed to be able to use that strange artefact that Lucifer had given her to hurt angels, he had thought that bringing her along would have been a confidence booster. Now he could only reflect on this as a colossal mistake – his mistake. Zara had trusted him to take care of her and he had failed her. He couldn't help but feel that everything that happened with Sophia was his fault. Even though he couldn't understand why it had taken her so long to come to her senses and free his brother, he felt some inkling of sympathy for the girl. Who knows what she'd been through?

That very day that Zara had dropped Sam off with them and left, they'd wanted to get some more information from her, like what did Sophia really want, what her weaknesses were. Dean had been the one to call Zara, since Sam had used her phone to call him.

 _ **Earlier…**_

It felt like forever before she picked up the phone. "Zara?" Dean asked.

" _Sorry, Zara can't come to the phone right now,"_ her spine-chilling voice said. _"Dean."_

"Sophia," he growled, his jaw tightening. Bobby and Sam exchanged shocked expressions, now fully terrified of the turn of events. The woman they'd met just hours earlier, who helped Sam and showed an unshakeable resolve to do right by the archangel child she loved, was no longer reachable, their shared gazes seem to convey. Dean put the call on speaker.

" _The one and only."_

"You listen to me, you evil cunt…"

" _Dean, please, language."_

"I will find a way to end you for all the things you've done. Torturing my brother, hurting Zara, all those people you killed and hung up on trees like Christmas decorations."

" _I see you've been keeping up with my work, then? I'm flattered."_

"Yeah we'll see how flattered you feel when I see the life go out of your eyes and your wings burn to dust," he threatened.

" _Such a loud bark for something so small… that's really cute,_ " she taunted. " _Too much bravery becomes foolishness, Dean. No matter, I'm still gonna get what I want."_

"Not if I can help it. You still need my brother. And guess what, I'm not letting you take him away again."

" _About that… You know what I realised? When you love someone, things don't have to be perfect. Love can overcome all obstacles. I think you'd know a thing or two about that. Besides, Sam is sooo two seasons ago!"_

Dean tilted his head in confusion. "Meaning?"

"Meaning _that all I need is a consenting vessel to um… how do you say… 'pop Satan's box'. I don't need Sam after all. So I guess I'll see you when your sad little world goes up in flames. Toodles!"_ she cut the call.

 _ **Now…**_

That conversation replayed in Dean's head. It was after the phone call that they realised how truly important it was that they found where Castiel had stashed the weapons. It wasn't easy, but with enough digging, they'd tracked it down to the underground base in Jetson. Despite his efforts to forget Zara, that short interaction with her – while a human still stood in that body – remained in his mind. Having become so used to associating her with Sophia, it was unnerving to see her as… herself. It just made it harder to think about driving a blade through her even though he knew it was the only way. She was a mystery he couldn't understand. How could anyone willingly accept an evil archangel like that back into their body again? After disobeying said archangel? Something had always been off about her, he thought. But it didn't matter to dwell on it. She was going to die anyway. He tried his best to put it out of his mind and enjoy the short amount of time he had left before anything bad happened again.

"Looks like we got a situation on our hands," Bobby entered the room with food and a newspaper in his arms. "This solar eclipse ain't the only freaky thing in the sky. Now there's purple lightning and fires everywhere."

"Can't even watch one episode of Dr Sexy without the world falling apart," Dean lamented as he switched the channel to news. Videos came on of people running from points where purple streaks struck repeatedly and flames erupted explosively. Then the news presenter brought up a world map with red circles indicating where the lightning had been known to have struck.

"This isn't even biblical. This is… I don't even know what to call it," Sam mused. "What could be causing this?"

"Beats me. But it ain't natural, I'll tell you that," Bobby commented. "Something's really wrong."

"What're we thinking, huh? Angels?" Dean asked.

"Or just the one that wants to release Satan," Bobby surmised.

"I don't know. If she wanted to destroy the world, don't you think she would have done that already?" Sam huffed. It seemed a bit too easy to blame Sophia for this. Surely there was something else going on?

"You heard her, Sam. She wants to release Lucifer. And if she's already done it, this could be it," Dean reasoned. "The unholy team-up could be causing this."

"It's only been three days! You think she could have found someone willing by then?" Sam posited. The two men looked at him, pondering his question.

"I hate to say it, but Moose is right," a snarky British voice said.

"Aren't you supposed to be busy?" Bobby asked.

Crowley smirked as he regarded the boys. "Don't worry, I'm still on it. Just paid Hell a visit to get backup. And I checked – Satan's still in the cage. So whatever this is, it's not them."

"Well that's comforting," Dean said. "But if it isn't Lucifer and Sophia, what has the juice to pull this off?" And that was the question that worried them.

* * *

 _ **Raziel's Office, New York – 11 July 2011, 1.18pm**_

In a mere span of two hours, there had been a number of humans alarmed by the sight of the darkened skies and streaks of purple lightning followed by fire. Naturally, such unusual events were of interest to the angels too, especially my former apprentices who were normally consulted on such things. For that reason, I found myself standing in this loft on a high floor of an apartment building that overlooked New York City, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Raziel's office was disguised as an ordinary apartment with minimalistic decorations that showed a refined taste. With its mahogany theme, spaciousness and neatly-arranged items, it was a stark contrast to Shemsiel's cluttered office and presented a lovelier environment for getting work done. Raziel had called me to get my opinion of things. I felt hesitant to share what exactly was going on because I knew that the involvement of a primordial being reminiscent of Amara definitely constituted a cause of panic. They would probably think the world was ending, which it was not – I would not let that happen. What would be even worse was if they knew why exactly Khaos would do such a thing – to coax me into sacrificing my son. Thus, I thought it best to help them mediate whatever situation was unfolding instead.

"Oh, what a wonderful surprise," Raziel greeted. "You brought the child."

"Uncle Raz!" Luc ran over to Raziel and threw his arms around Raziel's knees, not letting go for a good fifteen seconds. Raziel chuckled and patted him on the head.

"Is it Bring Your Kid To Work Day? Because we should have that more often!" Shemsiel quipped as the rest of the team emerged from a room set up for meetings. One by one, they took turns to hold and coddle Luciel, keeping them occupied for a good amount of time while Raziel came over to talk to me. His eyes held that same concern he always had, like he was always worried about one thing or another being the end of everything he and his team cared about, except this time the threat was tangible. Being their leader, he always shouldered their burdens and sometimes I worried that it would take its toll on him.

"So you saw what's happening, then?" he asked.

"Yes, it's worrying," we both looked out the window, observing the dusky landscape. Lights were turned on around the loft as though it was sunset but the digital clock on the wall read 13:25.

"This inexplicable solar eclipse and now, lightning and fire. Over fifty countries all over the world have been hit so far. Frankly, we don't know what to make of it. I was hoping you'd have some answers."

My gaze pierced through the clouds, looking at the sun directly. The moon was positioned directly in front of the sun, revealing only its white corona. From this perspective, the moon appeared as a black sphere, reminiscent of an unforgiving black hole. "Whatever's happening, it's more imperative that we find a way to deal with it. We need to shift the moon out of the way and put out the fires," I suggested. By this time, the team had settled down from their coddling session and were gathering near us.

"Yeah, we should get on it," Raziel agreed. "But I worry that there is too few of us for all the incidents of this strange lightning."

"Go to Heaven. I'm sure the angels will listen to you and are willing to help. How are things in Heaven, by the way?" I asked.

"The angels are still reeling from news of Castiel's death. They believed he would lead them after the war but now they have no leader, though they are trying to get things in order. Lots of large meetings take place regularly and everyone tries to pitch in, so it isn't so bad. It could be better, of course," Raziel reported.

"Sounds good. So you guys can go and get some help from the angels for the lightning and I'll see if I can do something about the moon," I suggested.

"Um… Sophia…" Dinah's eyes stared at something past me. I followed her gaze out the window to a small patch of greenery which they called Central Park. I held my breath as I placed a palm on the window and looked closely. Something wasn't right with the trees. A first glance would make it seem like nothing was wrong since it was dark and little could be seen clearly, but I felt something change. Strange vibes reached me from the ground and it felt like it wasn't just the park that changed. It was the earth itself. The green canopies of the trees slowly but gradually dulled in colour like all the saturation had just been sucked out of them. I didn't know yet what was wrong, but I had the strong feeling that I had to deal with this immediately.

"I should go," I took Luc's hand and left.

* * *

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 11 July 2011, 1.31pm**_

When my feet touched the ground, I could barely suppress a gasp. I froze where I stood, scanning the landscape. All around me were the withered stalks and rotting leaves of my plants. My precious plants! This death and decay extended for acres around me. Every single thing I grew lay dead at my feet. I exhaled sharply, my stomach dropping just at the sight of the greying field. My lower lip quivered as I put a palm to the ground. My awareness extended outwards into the soil, trying to feel for life, but I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for Dog. I felt the mutt cowering in some corner among the dead plants, frightened by his surroundings. No weeds, no insects, no snakes or spiders but Dog had been spared, like some kind of cruel joke. This had to be Khaos.

"Those look like they could use some water," a voice I hadn't expected to hear said.

"Crowley," I uttered as I stood up and gathered myself. "I've been looking for you."

"So I've noticed," he replied with a furtive calm. As I studied his smug expression, I noticed he was holding something in his hand. I recognised its make – it was the blade that could kill the Fate sisters. A Heavenly weapon. I didn't think it could hurt me but I wasn't going to take the chance.

"Fancy blade," I remarked, drawing out my own. I stood protectively between him and my son. "Too bad you won't get to use it."

"Be as fearless as you want, but today is the day I take you down," Crowley swore through gritted teeth.

I huffed. "You and what army?"

"Funny you should ask," he smirked. He made a gesture with his free hand and a deep rumbling sounded in the distance. As I looked on, a thin black line emerged above the trees in the distance and then, over time, it grew larger and larger. It looked like a giant black, smoky wave rushing towards me. The rumbling sound soon took on the form of a large chorus of screaming souls as the wave got closer. _Demons._ How could this be? Soon enough, a whole battalion of what could have been every demon in Hell stood behind him, all spaced out on my land, extending for miles. "This one, since you were wondering."

If Crowley thought that this would work, he was the greatest fool who ever lived. I scanned the crowd, observing every demon that stood in front of me. "What are you waiting for?" I projected my voice so they could all hear me. "Take this traitor down!" I ordered. But no one budged.

"Oh you see," Crowley scratched the back of his ear as he walked a few steps to his right. "Thing is, they don't really like you anymore. Tired of you taking too much maternity leave, it seems. And your lap dog, Timothy, isn't really a people's favourite either so…" All of this came as a surprise to me. I thought things were going well in the kingdom. It sure seemed that way the last time I visited, which was a mere few days ago. It seemed so strange how the demons changed sides to support Crowley all of a sudden. Everything about today was strange, I thought.

"You're making a huge mistake," I announced. "If you side with Crowley, I won't hesitate to smite you into oblivion."

"You're way outnumbered," a demon spat out bitterly.

Crowley turned slowly to see this demon, impressed by her outburst. She, in turn, smiled shyly at him and he returned the expression. "What she said," he supplemented. "You can either surrender now and make this quick, or it will get ugly and I'm sure you wouldn't want junior here to be witness to that."

Luc stood silent, observing with a troubled manner all that was conspiring here. He hadn't said a word since we got here and I suspected he knew that things were going wrong. I remained determined to make him feel safe again. "You leave my son out of this!" I uttered through clenched teeth.

"No worries, I have no intentions of hurting the child. I promise," Crowley said. What his motive was, I couldn't be sure. But it made no difference. "So what's it going to be?"

I weighed the odds and unfortunately, they weren't in my favour. I couldn't put up a fight when I had my son to worry about. There was no way out of this if I fought him. Exasperated, I turned to the Agents of Khaos, who were standing close by, eyes fixed on me as usual. "So? Aren't you gonna do anything about this?" If they didn't hesitate to kill Dog, why would they when it came to the demons? Especially if the demons had a good chance of taking me down in this moment? I couldn't give Khaos what He wanted if I was dead.

"Not our problem," Zorg replied with his nonchalant, monotonous voice.

"Of course it's your problem!" I yelled.

Crowley turned hesitantly to a demon near him. "Who is she talking to?" I heard him whisper.

"I don't know, sir. There's no one there," the demon replied, following my gaze. Meanwhile, I stared blankly at Zorg and his friend, unable to believe them. How could they just stand by? I still didn't get it.

"Whatever, let's get this over with," I heard Crowley say, right before his arm swung confidently and hurled the blade at me. I held my breath. I felt my flesh being pierced and blood pouring. My neck craned downwards to see the blade. It was buried deep in my abdomen. Caught off-guard, I staggered back as my hands encircled the hilt of the blade. I expected to feel pain but nothing happened and my essence was still intact. Slowly, I grabbed the blade and pulled it out, wincing as I felt the blood gushing out. It felt disgusting and stained my dress, but all was well when I healed the wound.

"Well that was a bust," I chuckled as I dropped the blade onto the ground. The air was thick with tension and I could see the limbs of the demons flexing, ready for battle. Crowley and the demons now looked at me with a resolve in their eyes like they only had one option left. And so did I. I picked up Luciel, spread my wings far and wide and took off before anyone could react. The demons charged after me, their war cries resounding like a celestial choir. I was now on the run.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Red Rose Motel, Jetson, Kansas – 11 July 2011, 8.45pm**_

"Dude, this is starting to freak me out," Dean said as he peaked out the blinds at the sky. The outside world looked just like it did in the morning. The solar eclipse hadn't passed and it seemed like the blocked sun was becoming a permanent fixture in the sky. It was supposed to be night and it was still just as dark as it was before.

"Only now?" Sam huffed. "This just confirms it. Something supernatural is going on."

"Question is, what do we do about it?" Dean sat back down at the table with a beer.

"I've tried looking it up but I got jack-squat," Bobby said. "Doesn't look angelic, doesn't look demonic, not gods or goddesses."

"What about God? Like 'capital G' God?" Dean speculated.

"What about Him?" Bobby questioned.

"Couldn't He pull off something like this?"

"He's God. Who're we gonna ask?" Bobby rebutted. Dean relented with a nod of consideration.

"Bad news, gents," Crowley popped in again. He dropped the bloody blade onto the table with a noisy clang. "Blade's useless."

They simply stared at the blood glistening on its surface. "How are you alive?" Sam asked.

"Like I said, I went to Hell for backup," he explained. "But I guess there's good news too. All of Hell is scouring the planet for our favourite archangel."

"That's more demons than we'd like on the surface," Bobby remarked with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Relax, Bobby, it's only until we find her. Then I'll do as I said. A deal's a deal, after all," he reassured them.

"Okay, if the blade didn't work, then what? How're we gonna kill her?" Dean asked, eyeing the blade with the itching temptation to wipe the blood off of it. Useful or not, it was a well-made weapon and he could appreciate that.

"The only thing that can kill her is that blade she has," Sam spoke up. "But she has telekinetic control over it so I doubt that'll be any help." In that moment, an ear-deafening thunder split through the air, causing them to jerk. It was much louder than ordinary thunder, and that said something.

"Now what?" Dean sounded annoyed. They turned the TV back on again and this time the weather reporter looked really anxious.

" _In what seems to be a worldwide phenomenon, we see here a large hurricane forming off the shore of South Carolina. Scientists say they have never seen a hurricane forming this fast or big before. When it hits the shore, the hurricane is predicted to hit every state on the East Coast. The public is advised to seek shelter immediately…"_ Dean muted the TV. The images on the screen looked extremely distressing. Thousands of people could be expected to die if this carried on. Whatever was happening, it just seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

"Is this the second apocalypse?" Crowley wondered out loud. The three men looked at him like he was supposed to know something about it. "Unfortunately, I'm just as clueless about this as you lot. Whatever's happening makes the apocalypse look like fun times. At least then we had the horsemen's rings to stop what was happening. Now it seems like no one knows what's going on…" Crowley went on.

This triggered a strange line of thought in Dean's head as he replayed the memories of the apocalypse. The hopelessness, the fear, the strange weather events, chasing down the Horsemen's rings… Then it clicked for him. "Death could do it," he simply stated. Now everyone turned to him. "We need a spell to bind Death."

"Bind? Enslave Death? You having a laugh?" Crowley thought he'd just heard the most absurd thing in his life.

"Lucifer did it," Dean argued.

"That's Lucifer," he shot back.

"But it would work," Sam supported his brother. "It's the only option we have."

"You really believe you can handle that kind of horsepower? You're delusional!" Crowley looked between the two brothers.

"Death is the only player on the board left that has the kind of juice to take Sophia," Dean reasoned.

"This is suicide," Crowley shook his head and sighed.

"Look," Bobby interjected. "If we don't stop her, she's gonna let Satan loose on the world. All she needs is one consenting vessel. It's just a matter of time, and then you can say goodbye to being King of Hell and the world will end. For real this time." _If it isn't ending already,_ he should have added.

The room fell silent as Crowley dug his hands into his pockets, considering his options. "I need a drink," he said before he vanished into thin air.

* * *

A/N:

Shit is hitting the fan, folks. Everyone's out for blood – Sophia's blood – and she has a kid to worry about. And all of this while she is trying her best to put her family of three together. Things cannot get worse… or can they? What will Sophia do to deal with this onslaught?

Anyway, thanks for the follows/favourites/reviews! I cannot state enough how much I appreciate all of you. This fic is going to be one hell of a ride from now on (even more so than before) and I cannot wait to show you guys what I have in store.

That song that Sophia sings to Luc in the beginning: Prince of Ice by Bendida (pretty cool symphonic metal song, check it out)


	40. The Levee Breaks Part II

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This is the second part of a two-part 'episode' in the story's timeline, which represents a major event in the story. I am so grateful for all the support you guys have given me for the previous chapter and I hope you enjoy this one too. If you're new here, please read chapter 39 before this one because there is direct continuity. Thank you all once again and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this one!

 **Chapter 40: The Levee Breaks Part II**

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Somewhere Deep in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming – 13 July 2011, 2.25pm**_

It had become worse. Life was slowly draining from nature in waves, and I felt every pulse of energy being pulled from the earth. The sensations only grew stronger and every time a pulse hit I felt my heart palpitate. It was deeply unnerving and astounding. I was trying my best to stop this from happening and so I found myself in this beauty of a park with Luc. Well, maybe I was also here on the account of demons hunting me everywhere I went. That still seemed really strange to me. I had their allegiance and support just days before and now they had all turned against me. Every single one of them. I would've thought they wouldn't hesitate to bow before an archangel. Or maybe it was only Lucifer they cared for. Nevertheless, it was extremely frustrating to be the target of a worldwide witch hunt by millions of demons who seemed to want to stop at nothing short of my head. So far, I'd survived by blasting my way through smaller groups of them but it was only a matter of time before they came after me as a whole army and I could only run at that point. How had it come to this?

As though to make things worse, I could hear the atmosphere and earth rioting. Hurricanes, tsunamis, fires on a massive scale – this was a great escalation from the way things were just two days ago. Again, if this was Khaos' doing, I didn't see how this was supposed to threaten me. Unfortunately, I fell victim to fits of shaking every time a new catastrophe hit, like it was somehow pulling energy from me. But to me, it was the battle of willpower that I had to win, not of physical strength. Still, it was vexing that I should be so helpless. I shuddered whenever I felt an erratic weather event forming. _It's just weather. You've done worse during the Earth's creation,_ I tried to talk myself out of it. God had allowed me to help Him shape the evolution of species on the Earth in the beginning and during those times I had been ruthless in… _Shit._ That's when it struck me. All of these weather events were exactly those that I had made back then. In the same order. Except these felt more powerful. The sheer amount of power and accuracy involved in this was enough cause to chill me to the bone. Then, suddenly, a bird dropped dead onto the ground in front of me with such a great velocity that I jumped. What was this? Khaos confirming my suspicions?

"This doesn't make a difference, you hear me?" I shouted into the sky. But I wasn't sure I believed it anymore. As I stared at the gloomy sky – which still maintained the same appearance it did since two days ago – several black dots appeared and began to get bigger. Realising what it was, I grabbed Luc and took cover under a dying tree while forming a shield of sorts around us. I watched in horror as a whole avalanche of dead birds rained down on us. Luc dug his head into my neck, not wanting to witness the atrocity before us. I would have done the same if I were him. Not gonna lie, it began to freak me out. I hadn't even begun trying to fix the weather and the solar eclipse and already, another abnormal event took place. I couldn't catch a break.

My breathing grew heavier, even after the rain stopped. _Don't let this get to you!_ I told myself. The thought occurred to me that it could be pointless to fix everything Khaos broke – it would be like preventing the leakage of water through cracks in a large dam with nothing but my bare hands. I would just have to go about my normal business, like whatever Khaos was doing did not bother me; the only way to resist was to restore a sense of normalcy. Meaning, I had to get back to looking for a consenting vessel for Lucifer, which was no easy task – I first had to assess whether a vessel could hold him without combusting immediately and then I would have to look for weak spots to exploit to get them to say 'yes'. I _was_ in the middle of doing just that when I was interrupted by demons, who had wasted no time in scurrying towards me in a large horde as soon as they spotted me. I sighed.

My phone rang. I was surprised I even got reception in here. "Raziel," I greeted as I picked up the call.

" _I hate to be the bearer of bad news. Again,"_ he said solemnly.

"What is it this time?" I was just as tired of it as he.

" _I just got back from Heaven and things did not go well."_

"What happened? Are you hurt?" A thousand horrible possibilities raced through my mind. What could have happened to worry some of the most trusted angels in Heaven?

" _No, they didn't hurt us. But when we told them what was happening… let's just say the discourse took an unexpected turn."_ He paused, searching for the words. _"They think that it's your fault, Sophia."_

"What? Are they just gonna blame me for everything now?"

" _I don't know what came into them. One moment, everything was fine, and then suddenly they're all getting upset because they think you're replicating what you did during the Earth's formation. I mean, how could they have known? Even_ I _only found out when I consulted the history books. It's almost like they're…_ "

"Possessed?" This gave off awfully similar vibes to what happened in Hell.

Raziel inhaled sharply. " _Yes. And that isn't even the worst part. Because of the freaky weather that came about when Luc was born, they think that your son is an accomplice to your 'crimes'. It's got the angels all riled up. All because of the mere_ suggestion _that you may be involved! We tried to stop them but they're set on hunting you down and killing both you and your son. They think that this is the only way to stop whatever's happening on Earth."_

"God…" Now I had angels on my back too. My heart palpitated wildly. The whole earth began to feel claustrophobic. "Alright, I need you and the team to get somewhere safe. I don't want any of you getting hurt if they start turning on you too."

" _But Sophia, this is madness! Something is going on with all of Heaven and Earth and we need to stop it."_

"Raz…" I pinched the bridge of my nose with my eyes closed. "I don't think we can stop it." I cut off his protests with a suggestion, though I doubted it would do any good. "The only person who can do anything about this whole situation is God. You have to find him."

" _Find God? I think everyone on Heaven and Earth has tried that already."_

"We don't have any other choice. This is way above both our paygrades." I cut the call and sank down to the ground, back against the rotting bark of a tree. As I gazed upwards in partial resignation, I noticed the leaf-less, thinning branches of what had once been a magnificent fir tree. Like a punctured fruit, blood dripped from an impaled bird, flowing down the branches and spilling onto the expiring ground. I wept internally for the dying kingdom of creatures on earth, their loss tantamount to that of my own strength and love.

"Did you hear that, God?" My voice trembled as I spoke. "Are you just gonna let your older sibling destroy your favourite planet?" No response. "If not for me, do something at least for these humans you covet so much!"

I heaved deep breaths. I hadn't wanted to acknowledge it before, but things seemed more and more bleak by the moment. A growing sense of panic took over me. I couldn't think straight. I had armies of both Heaven and Hell bearing down on me, my home was compromised and it became increasingly difficult to get Lucifer – my pillar of support – out of his prison. I wasn't even sure I would be able to find him a vessel now. I was worried what would happen if I stepped foot outside this national park. Then again, this rain of dead birds probably put a bull's eye on my location so I would have to move fast.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Unmarked Road, Arkansas – 13 July 2011, 4.14pm**_

"Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te in mea potestate defixi. Nunc et in aeternum!" Bobby recited.

The boys waited anxiously in the middle of an empty road. It had taken them some time to gather all the materials they needed for the binding spell, especially the Fulgarite. The spell had also stated that it had to be performed in an open area, hence the makeshift table and the lonely, unmarked road.

"Um… hello? Death?" Dean called out.

"You're joking," a bored voice said in front of them. Usually expressionless, he simply seemed annoyed to be standing before them.

"I'm sorry, Death. This isn't what it seems."

"Seems like you bound me." Death extended both his arms forward to show them the glowing cuffs that bound his wrists.

"For good reason, okay? Just, uh, hear us out. Um... Fried pickle chip? They're the best in the state." Dean gestured towards a second table set up with the finest quality of junk food they could find.

"That easy to soothe me, you think? This is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?"

"What?" Dean gave him a quizzical expression.

"Sorry, Sam. One wall per customer. Now unbind me," Death demanded.

"We can't. Y-Yet," Sam stammered.

"This isn't going to end well," Death warned.

"We need you to kill Sophia," Dean stated.

"Excuse me?" Death narrowed his beady eyes.

"Kill Sophia. You heard right. Your... Honor," Bobby repeated.

"What makes you think I could do that?" Death challenged.

"B-But… you can kill God," Dean argued. "You told me."

"Yes, but that's God. Sophia is… different," Death said to everyone's shock. "Even if I could, why should I?"

"Because... We said so, and we're the boss of you. I mean... Respectfully," Dean replied, treading carefully with his words.

"Wait, why do you say she's different?" Sam inquired.

"It's a long story. Short version is, she's someone else's target and I'm not allowed to hurt her," he explained.

"Someone else wants to kill her? Who?" Dean probed.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for a history lesson. You've read the news – all these souls that need reaping."

"We were just about to ask you about that. Um… what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Again, long story. But it's the same story, if that's any consolation."

"Are you saying… all of this is Sophia?" Dean looked to the sky.

"She's not doing this herself, no. Someone is doing this _to_ her."

"Then you _have to_ kill her. End all of this," Dean spoke with a slightly firmer tone that he was not proud of. Bobby gulped, a primal fear spreading through his chest. While Dean was busy focussed on killing Sophia, he wondered what kind of being could be so upset with an archangel that they would put the earth through a larger-scale apocalypse. Something was terribly wrong and the older man only had a sinking feeling at the sight before him.

Death suddenly looked around himself, like he noticed something new. "I suppose this is where it goes down, then."

The men exchanged confused expressions, unsure of what to make of what Death just said. Just like that, Death snapped his fingers and made appear the unruly archangel herself before them.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 13 July 2011, 3.40pm**_

It had taken me a while, with all the demons and angels around every street corner, but I think I did it – I found the vessel. Just my luck, it was the same one Lucifer had used before. I had chanced upon him earlier as he was walking down the streets and I couldn't believe my eyes at first. When I realised that it really was him, an immense wave of relief washed over me. Now it was only a matter of getting him to say 'yes'. I snuck into the guy's apartment, trying to get a feel for who he was and what would reassure him.

"Should've known you would be predictable," someone said as I reached to pick up a photograph.

I spun around immediately, gasping. "Naomi," I recognised. She came with two angels by her side. "This is a trap."

"Who knew you would have been so desperate to bite the first piece of bait dangled in front of you?" she said condescendingly.

"Doesn't matter," I gritted my teeth and brandished my blade. "I can take you on."

A loud cry caught my attention and I jerked my head to see another angel with his blade to my son's throat. "Luc!" I exclaimed as I reached out my hand to go near him but I was stopped when the angel pressed the blade closer to his throat.

"Not so fast," Naomi taunted. "Take another step and the kid dies."

I clenched my fist, rage building up within me. I did not evade all of Khaos' trials just to have these pesky angels kill my son. Already, I was planning how I would torture these angels if I could, though I realised I would need to get out of there quickly before they could call for reinforcements.

"Come with us peacefully and we'll make it quick," Naomi posited.

"Funny, that's exactly what a demon said to me earlier," I remarked. With a quick fling of my arm, I hurled my blade into the angel holding my son. He dropped his blade and sank to the ground, dead. "Luc, hide!"

The others closed in on me while Luc ran off further into the apartment. I summoned my blade back and engaged in combat with them. The moments were short and I barely had time to think in this enclosed space. I kicked and punched and stabbed until no one remained standing. I heard another scream and instinctively, I bolted into the room where it came from. An angel stood menacingly in front of Luc, who was now cowered into a corner and crying. The sight of his tears threw all the rage of a thousand earthquakes into me and I exploded the angel without a thought. Through all the bloody mess, I gathered him into my arms and hugged him tightly as he sobbed into my shoulder. "It's okay, Luc, I got you," I consoled him. "I'll always keep you safe. No matter what." Tears began to sting my eyes but I blinked them away furiously. This was too close for comfort but I needed to be strong for my son.

All I needed was for the vessel to come back. If I wasn't so hunted, I would have just grabbed him the moment I saw him. But now I was stuck here waiting in an apartment full of dead angels for him to get back, so that I could perform the spell from the Book of the Damned and release Lucifer. With him by my side, I knew I could face anything thrown my way. Though I wanted to stay calm, it was impossible considering that this little skirmish could have attracted unwanted attention and both angels and demons could be tracing it right now. I tapped my foot impatiently on the ground and paced about. Every second I had to stand here only made me more anxious and I hoped that the vessel would come back soon.

"There she is!" I heard someone yell and turned around. Angels. They were coming at me fast. I had to leave now. I could come back for the vessel later. I grabbed Luc and I flew away as fast as I could through the buildings. And then suddenly, just as I turned a corner, I came face-to-face with a whole troop of demons. They snarled at me, like wolves hungry for dinner. Without wasting a second, I quickly spun and took off in another direction. Heart racing wildly, I dodged and jumped obstacles comprised of the two armies. In this grand chase, the number of my pursuers kept increasing by the minute and they came at me from all directions. Slowly, I was losing any hope I had of escape. _God, I could really use a miracle right now._

That's when I felt myself being pulled away.

* * *

 _ **Unmarked Road, Arkansas – 13 July 2011, 4.30pm**_

I stumbled as I landed, child in my arms. What the hell just happened? For a moment I was disoriented. And then I looked up to see none other than Death standing in front of me. Overwhelmed by the circumstances, I rushed forward and threw my arms around his shoulders, ignoring his protests. "I've never been happier to see you, you old fart!"

"Ah well," he began. "This is awkward." I pulled away, now noticing his eyes beckoning me to something else behind me. I also noticed he held his arms away from me when I hugged him, but I chalked it up to him hating hugs – or being in denial about liking them. I spun around to see yet another unexpected sight.

" _You,_ " I growled. Sam and Bobby seemed shocked, presumably because my son and I were now decorated with angel bits. Dean, however, maintained a resolute vengeance in his eyes. "What's going on here?"

"Death here is going to kill you," he stated.

"Is that so? On _your_ orders?" I huffed.

"Unfortunately so," Death showed me his cuffs. "But these _morons_ don't understand the bigger picture so I wouldn't hold it against them." Then, without any hesitation, Death put two fingers to my head and I instinctively shut my eyes tightly. I waited. Nothing happened. I opened one eye and saw Death looking back at me emotionlessly.

"What the hell?" Bobby said.

"Told you it wouldn't work," Death spoke nonchalantly. "Now, unbind me."

"Woah, woah, hold on a sec," Dean put up a finger. "H-how? And why?"

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. I had bigger things to deal with than these bumbling idiots. "Death, I need your help."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm of no use in your current predicament," he exhaled, like even he didn't want this to happen.

"Come on, you have to do _something_ ," I pleaded. "I'm so tired." I clasped my hands as though to pray to him.

"I…" he began, but he was cut off by a loud noise. It sounded like something massive getting crushed. The earth rumbled beneath us, but it didn't quake violently. I felt it in my core. Like my breath had been knocked out of me, hard. I clutched my abdomen with one hand and held onto Death's left shoulder with another. Then it came again – another pulse. This time it felt like I was getting kicked in the stomach and another loud boom sounded. The earth was getting crushed – caving in, probably – somewhere in the world and we could feel it here; I could feel it in me. I would have fallen down if Death hadn't held me up with both his arms. What I felt wasn't pain. It felt like… a part of me was getting ripped out. It was the same feeling I had when I was trapped in the vault with those creatures that had dug into my skin. It felt massively uncomfortable and unsettling and brought me close to tears.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Luc looked up at me with glistening eyes, his hand resting on my thigh.

"Yes, honey," I lied. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and caressed his head. "Don't worry about me."

I regained my composure and turned to face Death again. "I can only offer you advice, as I always have. Let Him win."

"How can you say that? Do you know what He wants of me?" I shot back.

"I've always known. And believe me when I say that I sincerely don't want to see you get hurt. If you do what He says now it'll all stop." I couldn't believe my ears. I turned my back to him, my eyes refusing to look away from the ground. It came as a shock to me that he should even suggest such a thing. "I hate to say it, but that's the only way out. I only wish to spare you pain."

"What about-" I looked to my son, who only stared back at me. I didn't want to mention the deal in front of him. The only thoughts that came to me then was how perverted this whole situation was. Everything my son must have seen the past few days felt so unnecessary. And it was all because of Khaos. "Why don't you just talk to Him?"

"Me? You think He'll listen to me?"

"He's your father!" I didn't mean to yell.

"My father listens to me just as well as your mother listens to you, or as well as God listens to Lucifer!" he spat out with a tone so cold it was unlike of him. I had never seen him get so riled up before. Parents are a touchy subject for all of us, I supposed. A silence followed. Death twirled a finger and suddenly the sky brightened again, returning to an overcast but bright state. "That's better," he exhaled. "All the gloominess was beginning to get to me."

"You need to help me stop Him," I begged.

"Listen to yourself. You've met the guy. The both of us combined stand no chance!"

"Then get God!" I demanded. "You can find Him. Tell Him to get His ass over here and save the planet. Why is He sitting this out?"

"Because He knows it's inevitable. It's all up to you, Sophia."

Death's words reverberated in my head. I groaned. I couldn't accept what he was saying. I couldn't even consider it as an option. I turned to the open field, opened up my arms wide and shouted. "God! I'm begging you. Do something!" Again, I heard a frustrating silence after my words. I stared into the sky, as though He should emerge from the clouds at any moment. "You brought me here. If you ever loved me – if you ever truly cared for me at all – then show yourself!"

"You'll be waiting a long time," a calm, British voice quipped. It was Crowley, with all of Hell standing with him behind the humans, who were by now shocked into speechlessness. It was probably best that way. Great, now the demons had caught up. "You won't escape this time." His eyes wandered beyond me. If I didn't have a worst nightmare before, I did now – an army of demons on one side, and an army of angels on the other, both ready to attack me and my son.

"Turns out angels and demons _can_ work together," an angel who I presumed to be leading the army stepped forward and said.

I was surrounded by all sides and stuck with three humans who were hated by both groups but incidentally wanted me dead too, and Death, who literally had his hands tied. I'd never felt as helpless as I had in that moment. I froze on the spot, unable to think of any solution to this situation. There was no way out. Whatever was going to happen, I knew I wanted Luc to be safe at all costs. That was how one of the worst ideas I'd ever had occurred to me. A growing sense of dread filled me but it truly seemed like there was no other option. I would not let Khaos win. "Luc, go to Sam," I ordered.

"What?" Sam was surprised.

"I saw Zara's memories. You are willing to keep him safe and raise him. That's all I ask for," I declared as cordially as I could. This bravery was a façade, barely being held together by the stubborn lengths I was willing to go to in order to deny Khaos this merciless victory. "Go on, son. It'll be fine." Hesitantly, Luc did as I said and approached Sam, who ushered the child to a protective position behind him. I raised my voice to address all the angels and demons. "I get it. You all want me dead. Fine. But you will leave my baby out of this!" I gazed at my son one last time. "I'll always love you." I took out my blade and plunged it into my abdomen.

* * *

 _ **Unmarked Road, Arkansas – 13 July 2011, 5.30pm**_

The blade pierced through me swiftly. Again, no sparks, no pain, nothing happened. I pulled out my blade, and only normal human wounds were there, which I could easily heal. "What even-"

"Did you think I'd let you go that easy?" a new voice said. I recognised His deep, monstrous voice.

"Khaos Alpha," I identified. He appeared in human form this time, taking the shape of a rather large man with dead eyes and a psychotic smile.

"For you, I had to come down here myself," His smug grin made me shudder. "Son," He greeted Death.

" _Ugh,_ " Death groaned and averted his gaze.

"Very well then." Alpha turned His attention back to me.

"I'm sorry but who the hell are you?" the angel asked.

Alpha kept his eerie gaze fixed on me for a moment before looking at the angel. "You're a rude bunch, I must say, scaring my darling Sophia here like that." He flicked his hand at them and a whole bunch of them were dispersed into thin air like smoke, eliciting gasps from everyone. "Anyone else want to interrupt me?"

The demons and angels simply stared at each other, probably wanting to embrace each other out of pure fear from what they had just witnessed. Crowley was the first to throw one hand into the air and yell, "Retreat!"

The demons turned on their heels and fled, which would have been a wise choice if Khaos hadn't snapped His fingers and summoned these black worm-like things to shoot up from the ground and strangle the demons where they stood. My breath stopped in my throat as I recognised those things to be the same ones from my vault which had sucked the life out of me for all those years. It was Khaos all along who had tormented me. A cacophony of screams and pleas to be saved echoed all around me as the angels were subjected to the same fate. I looked around nervously. Never having been witness to so much suffering at once, it was overwhelming to my senses. I even began to feel sympathy for them. After a long pause, during which Khaos never looked away from me for one second, the bodies fell one by one. Soon, the whole place was filled with dead angels and demons on all sides for miles. A deafening silence ensued. It was obvious that Khaos got some kick out of seeing my emotions flare from shock to fury to confusion during this debacle.

Then, as the smell of death reached us, Khaos approached me and used the back of His index finger to caress my cheek. I shrank back in disgust but He was unwavering.

"Give me what I want, Sophia," He asked me almost innocently, like I could ever refuse.

I stared at the ground, breathing deeply. The world was literally crumbling around me and its inhabitants were dying. All because of this madman and His obsession with me and my son. I pushed His hand away and said firmly, "No!"

I sensed no change from Khaos. He didn't express any anger or disdain at my refusal. He simply took a few steps back, held out his arms and turned in a circle. "Tell me, is all of this worth it? This beautiful world? Is your hard-headedness worth everything you love?"

"My son _is_ everything I love!" I burst out.

"Ah," His lips turned up on one side as His eyes met mine. "I think everything I've put you through the past few days proves otherwise. Here, I'll make it more convincing." He snapped His fingers once again and in front of all the dead angels appeared the kneeling figures of all six of my friends – Hassiel, Raziel, Dinah, Shemsiel, Rahab and Pahaliah. I put a hand to my mouth, not knowing what to say or do. They looked beaten and battered into submission, their hands tied behind their backs. How many times had I found them in that situation, all because of their affiliation with me? "You don't care about anything other than your son, you say? Then you shouldn't mind this."

I watched as Khaos materialised a sharp black dagger and stabbed Hassiel in the chest. "No!" I screamed until my voice became raw. No thoughts came to me. I was frozen to the spot, filled with pure fear and shock to the bones.

"Or this," He stabbed Raziel next. "Or this." Dinah died with a muffled groan. "This, this and this." Dead. They were all dead. Sprawled on the ground before me. My face was damp and my lips quivered, but no sound escaped my mouth. "Even these damn humans you think you hate so much, you can't bear to see them go!"

With a twirl of His finger, Sam, Bobby and Dean all had their necks twisted and broken and at once, they fell to the floor, limp. A new sense of dejection filled me, like everything that made me feel strong had been stripped from me. All that was left here was Luc, Death, me and Alpha. Luc simply sat on the floor, wailing loudly for me to come to him. I was scared that if I went near him, I would have just handed him over to Khaos myself. That was how it felt at that moment to be standing there.

"Sophia, please," Death pleaded and for real – I could see it in his eyes how much he hated this. It was no wonder he never spoke of his father. He'd probably seen this kind of thing happen a million times before.

"I-I s-still won't… g-give in," I stuttered. I hadn't realised that I was shaking so much. Death gave me a look of pity and shook his head solemnly as he stepped back.

"Don't worry, I saved the best for last," Khaos announced as He clapped His hands twice.

I gasped. I could already feel my knees going weak as he appeared before me. Khaos placed a hand on his shoulder as he looked at me almost as shocked as I was. Lucifer – in his old vessel. Eyebrows creased into a frown, he patted himself on the torso and looked around himself. "How-How did I get here?" His initial confusion faded away as he returned his attention to me. His gaze softened. "Sophia-"

He was silenced by Khaos, who drove a hand through his back. A gasp stealing his words, he fell backwards right before me. By this time, I was fresh out of shock and anger. My breaths became shallow and laboured. I merely took small steps towards the dead body of my lover and sank to the ground. My tears fell in droplets on his face as I took it in both my hands, gazing into his open, shocked eyes as the light faded in them. This was an image I had never wanted to think about and yet, it was right here before me. Everything I had known and loved and lived, it was with Lucifer. And now that he was dead right in front of me, all that I had known about myself fell away from me. It was like my body was fragmenting into a million pieces at once and I didn't know what to hold onto. I had absolutely nothing now. Nothing of value. Nothing to show my child.

"Now, you could keep saying 'no', but all that's left is for me to keep you in the Void with your son until you eventually agree. What could you possibly have to keep you going at that point? Nothing that you know will exist," Khaos said, as He slowly took a few steps. "Aw, look at you. You're miserable. And that makes me sad." His voice mocked sadness. "But you know what? There's still hope. I can bring him back. I can bring them all back. You know what you have to do." I was still focussed on Lucifer's dead face. I couldn't think of anything else. "Sophia," I hated the way He uttered my name endearingly. "Time is tic-"

"Okay," my voice was a forced whisper.

"What was that?"

My chest shuddering, I spoke louder, "I said okay!"

"Okay what?" His tone was sharp.

I looked at Lucifer's pale face, his soft amber curls, his soft lips. "Take my son," I uttered, numbness filling me. "Take him away, please."

Immediately, Khaos held Luciel's hand in his and they stood in front of me. "Well, I'm not a monster. Say your goodbyes," He ordered.

Filled with shame yet unable to turn away, I met my son's gaze reluctantly. "I don't wanna go, Mommy," he said, tears running down his face.

"I-I can't save you and I'm s-sorry," I told him. "Go now, and never look back."

"I meant what I said before," Alpha's eyes were earnest again. "About us being friends. You're broken and I can fix you. You need only ask. You know where to find me." Summoning all the strength I had left, I stood up to face Him one more time. "Brighten up, Sophia. The world will be restored to how it was. No one's going to remember a thing, except you, of course. And I'll even leave you a little something as a bonus." With that, He was gone, with my son.

I felt cold, distant, unemotional, unattached – a number of words could describe my state of mind. None of them included any idea of who I was supposed to be. Was I a good person, a bad person, knowledge-finder, grave punisher, loving mother or a traitorous, unlucky partner? All of these thoughts swirled in my head and soon I felt dizzy from the weight of it all. Light dimmed in my vision and I fell myself falling backwards as my eyes slammed shut.

* * *

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 11 July 2011, 11.06am**_

I awoke on the couch, right in front of the wide-open doors. Sunlight streamed in. Birds chirped. Wind whistled. Dog barked. The smell of fragrant flowers wafted in. I felt the time stream and I sensed that Khaos had lived up to His word and brought everything back to normal. I just stared at the ceiling, unwilling to get up. I didn't see the point anyway. There was no delightful giggle or tiny running angel in this house. My spirit had left this house and was probably never coming back. My thoughts drifted to the last thing I remembered – Lucifer being dead. He was alive again, but how could I tell him what had happened to his son? He wouldn't remember, and even if he did, he would still be confused as hell. How could I tell him that I was essentially a curse on his life? That everything bad that had happened to him was essentially my fault?

I didn't think I could ever face him again. That was when I realised what Khaos meant when He said He was leaving a bonus for me. "Honey, I'm home!" his cheery voice made my heart stop.


	41. The Aftermath

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 41: The Aftermath**

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 11 July 2011, 11.06am**_

Too loud. It was too loud. Not the world, no. The world was in perfect calm at that moment, like it had been granted a day just like the one when humans first came upon the Garden of Eden – a perfect harmony of Heaven and Earth. Perhaps it had to be this way. I had to be lying on that couch in my living room, facing the ceiling with barely any thoughts of getting up, while the world around me spun and brimmed with life and love. My world had to crumble just as everyone else's was built up. After that alternate reality that Khaos made me live, I had gotten everything back. Everything that He had taken from me. Yet I felt like I had nothing. What was left was a void in my chest where my sense of self used to be. Truly I did not know what to feel or think. It wasn't that I didn't feel anything – emotions racked my body from all sides. There was a great tiredness in my muscles and a throbbing ache in my chest. But I simply felt dissociated, like I could see all these emotions and thoughts yet not commit to them and experience them like they were mine. Again and again, one question came to mind: _What have I done?_ It kept repeating in my head, like a broken tape recorder connected to a speaker whose volume increased every time the question was uttered. Soon, it was accompanied by the sound of ringing bells that became noisier and more crowded in my head. Loud, yes, it was too loud.

Then he came home. My head noise fell deadly silent. It was almost like a vision or a dream, the kind humans have when they were gifted with psychic abilities. I simply stared as he stood at the doorway in this vessel I did not recognise. He must have jumped into the first human that said 'yes', which meant that neither of us knew how much time he had left before the vessel burnt out and he would have to search for another one again. I studied the vessel. The man had dark hair and a clean-shaven face. He wore a loosely-tucked white shirt in formal attire which suggested that he could not wait to get away from whatever formal setting he was in. Or he just got fired. Or he came out of a job interview. All these mundane things that humans had going for them. Everything they did was inconsequential. Good for them.

"Honey, I'm home!" Lucifer smiled widely. He seemed ecstatic to see me. Why was he so happy? _How_ could he be so happy? Couldn't he feel what was to come?

I remained in my seat, only sitting up slowly and tenderly placing my feet on the ground. He stepped in and knelt in front of me eagerly. His shoes were still on but I didn't care. I barely said a word before he enveloped me in his arms and embraced me. The familiar feeling of him against me felt too good but this time I could not be happy about it. I hated myself for wanting to return the gesture but my hands instinctively wrapped around his waist and his head leaned against mine.

"I missed you every single day in the cage," he said, before turning his head and kissing me profusely on the lips and cheeks. This felt so wrong. I was completely undeserving of his boundless affection. I had done nothing but ruin his life and yet he treasured me. I decided I would not stand for this anymore. My fingers gently came between our lips and pushed him away. He stopped, holding my fingers in his hand and gazing at me instead. "Thank you for getting me out." _Stop._

"It wasn't me," I uttered so softly that I could barely hear myself. I cleared my throat and attempted to speak again. "I was working on something but this wasn't me."

For a moment his eyes roved over my face. Then he cracked that wide grin again and smirked. "Doesn't matter. I'm just glad to be out of there." He grabbed my face and began kissing me again before I could protest. He paused suddenly, studying my face again. "You seem tired. Must be from chasing our little Hellraiser through the fields. Where is the little scamp anyway?" He looked upwards, probably scanning the upper floors. "Is he sleeping?"

My words were stuck in my throat. My mind went blank. How would I even begin? My body was so tired. I had never felt so tired before. I didn't know if I had the strength to give him the full explanation. I didn't know if I had the strength to deal with his reaction – his anger, his sadness, his determination to make things right. Much worse than that, I didn't know if I had the strength to face his judgment. God's judgment seemed much more preferable in comparison. With Lucifer so close to me and expecting an answer, I felt constricted. My chest felt heavy and my lower lip quivered. I got up immediately and walked out through the glass doors on the side of the house. Lucifer trailed behind, not saying a word. I walked and I walked and I walked past the rows of plants and came to an abrupt stop. I stood before a small plot where saplings had grown to my height, bearing fertile flowers and healthy green leaves. These were Luciel's. He had made these. This was all I had left of him. My hand stroked its stalk, feeling its fresh life.

The air suddenly turned cold and a gentle breeze brushed against the saplings, causing them to sway. A single rain droplet fell from the sky and splattered on a leaf, leaving minuscule orbs on its surface. I couldn't control myself anymore. My knees collapsed, my shoulders shuddered and I wept into my hands. The skies imitated my emotion, shedding tears of their own. Soon, I felt a warmth on my right side as Lucifer took me into his arms. I didn't need to look at his face to know he was probably really confused and becoming increasingly worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked. It only made me sob more vigorously and I dug my head into his chest.

His hands found my shoulders and he pulled me away from him. "Tell me, what's wrong?" he asked again. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at him. A burning red sore had appeared on his right temple. The vessel was beginning to burn out.

"I-I can't…" my choked voice replied. Again, I began sobbing uncontrollably and leaned into him for comfort. I could feel his body beginning to deteriorate quickly.

"Did something happen? Tell me," he demanded with a firmer tone.

"Y-You don't want to know." His shirt was bundled tightly under my grip on his shoulders.

He pulled me away again, this time his grasp on my upper arms becoming more rigid. " _Tell me,"_ he commanded.

I shook my head. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. How painful must it be to find out that our son was thrown into a place that we told horror stories of to baby angels in Heaven? Knowing it was one thing, but saying it out loud was like reliving the pain of that moment when I pleaded Khaos to take him away out of sheer desperation. I just couldn't bear to think about what I had done anymore. My silence only aggravated my lover. I could see his eyes glistening with tears. His mind was probably already racing with possibilities. And he was running out of time too – the number of red sores on his vessel had grown exponentially and were giving off a soft hissing sound as they burnt. His skin began to turn a deadly pale colour.

He shook my shoulders once as though to snap me out of my thoughts. "Where is our son, Sophia?" he asked accusingly. This was the tone I was afraid of. And I had no easy answers to give him. The longer I stalled, the louder the hissing sounds became. He only had seconds left. "Say something!"

"He's dead!" I yelled at once, heaving deep breaths as silence fell between us. The loud patter of rain drops on the fields filled the silence. "He's dead," I repeated, my voice becoming softer this time. This was probably easier to believe, and easier to deal with. If Lucifer thought our son was dead, he would mourn him and move on with his life. If he knew the truth, he wouldn't stop at anything to get our son back and I couldn't risk Khaos screwing with us any longer.

"What?" Lucifer asked as though he didn't believe it. His breaths grew more rapid and his vessel became greyer. His eyes softened and he slowly shook his head. "You're lying."

"I'm not," I spat out. "Your son is dead. Please don't ask me anything else," I begged as my voice became clearer and the tears stopped.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. His head tilted slightly and the lost look on his face felt like a stab in my chest. "H-how…" he began. His vessel's skin dried completely and began turning to ash. He didn't have any time left. He exited the vessel, his bright essence shooting skyward as a glowing beam, and flew away in search of another one, leaving me alone with the ashen remains of some dead human.

* * *

It wouldn't be long before he returned. A voice in my head only said to get away from there. So I ran. It seemed like the only thing I was consistently sure of. I went wherever my wings took me. To a beach in Miami, to a vineyard in Italy, to the Swiss Alps – I felt dissatisfied by every location. None could soothe my inner turmoil. I felt a thousand thoughts race through my mind, every one seeming like a good idea one moment and then like too much effort the next.

I just wanted to lie down somewhere in a fetal position and preferably lose myself to the ground. But that would be impossible for a being like me. A sardonic chuckle escaped my lips, forming a cloud of white mist from my warm breath. Look at how weak I'd become, broken to bits by Khaos. My enemies would be happy to see me like this. Those Winchesters would probably be grateful to Khaos. To think that an archangel of Heaven had become like this! I was _nothing_ compared to Khaos. I felt so weak, so vulnerable, and this made me furious. My fingers trembled just at the thought of how easily I'd been defeated. Sure, I could destroy the Earth with ease – it would take a carefully planned course of attacks – but it meant nothing in the face of Khaos. What would have taken me months took him three days.

What was the solution to it all? I had to get out of here. And by 'here', I meant the Earth. I stared at the night sky from the Himalayas, colourful prayer flags dancing in the strong mountain breeze in the distance. It seemed like the most logical thing to do. Whatever held me together and made me strong had been stripped away from me in that alternate reality. I was being hunted by beings lesser than me – angels and demons – and the threat of them devouring me in their manic hatred was more real than I had wanted to entertain before. The earth that I loved so much for its beauty and elegance was being torn apart using my essence and physically this felt like my life was being sucked out of me. Most importantly, everyone that I ever cared about was brutally destroyed right before me. Nothing remained to define me in that reality and somehow I still felt stuck in that moment even when everything returned to normal.

Did I give up too easily? Did my son pay the price for what could only be my lack of willpower to face off a bully? I felt my knees going weak again and collapse on the chilly ground beneath me. I couldn't possibly explain all of this to Lucifer. He was strong; he faced off every trial sent his way with gritted teeth and the determination to conquer. I couldn't even compare to him. I had failed him. What would he think of what I did? I didn't want to find out. I would have to leave. I couldn't face him anymore. Not without proper answers.

And my son – what pain he would have to endure! It was possibly a fate worse than death. What I did to him was worse than any sin God would shun. I had to pay the price. Everyone I cared about was probably better off that way. Even those Winchesters, who I hated but made formidable enemies. I huffed. Only Khaos could have shown me that I had an inkling of compassion for humans. And for what? Why did I go through this? I needed answers and only one person had them.

* * *

 _ **Aphelia's Arch, Edge of The Universe**_

The Arch was a difficult place to find but its unique golden shine could not be missed. I stood alone on the sandy ground among the dilapidated buildings. They had windows but no glass which made it look like the windows were eyes into Khaos' mind – dark and unknowable. Was I really about to do it? Accept Khaos' offer? And what would that entail but an eternal reminder of my failures…

"Don't do it," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and came face to face with the sickly-thin figure of Death, ornate black cane in one hand.

"Why shouldn't I?" my own voice sounded tired and low.

"Because you can still fix things. All is not lost," he said with the same deadpan expression he had had for eons. Yet his voice suggested that he cared.

"Easy for you to say. Do you even remember what happened?"

"I do. But that is not real anymore. What you have now is real. You have Lucifer and your friends back," he reasoned.

"And what will I tell them, huh? I have become the worst sinner of them all!"

"So you think this is better? Doing what Khaos wants?"

"You're the one who said to let Him win!" I shot back.

"So that you could have peace again!"

I paused, glaring at him. "I have anything but peace!" I took a few deep breaths. "I don't deserve to be around them. I deserve whatever horrible fate Khaos has in store for me."

"That's not true," he rebutted. "You can still turn this around. You are not at fault here. You are the victim. When you understand that, you can spite Him. Go back to Earth. Tell Lucifer the truth. Deal with your loss together. Have a life with him!"

I averted my gaze, shaking my head slowly. "I can't..." It seemed so wrong to me. It seemed unfair to the memory of my son. I couldn't fix things in my life when he would never have the chance to be loved by us again. "How can I even move on from this?"

I felt something on my arm and I looked up to see Death's hand rested on it. " _You_ can. You're the cosmic rebel. You and Lucifer. You rebelled against your parents because that is what you were meant to do. You were persecuted by these beings because that is what is meant to happen to you. You shouldn't give up! The universe needs rebels to keep its order."

"Look, I get it, I really do. But I can't live with myself if I don't do this," I spoke weakly.

He sighed. We both remained in silence as we stared into the Arch, the gateway to the Void. I was mentally preparing myself for a goodbye but he broke the silence first. "Did you ever think about the conditions inscribed on the vault for your release? What they all actually meant?" he asked.

"They're probably all meaningless anyway. Khaos said so Himself that He never wanted me to face the vault for rejecting the third condition," I answered blankly. "He said freedom was a metaphor for me escaping the constraints of my universe."

"And if you pursue this brand of freedom, I am afraid you are giving Him exactly what He wants. You see, the conditions weren't just a means to get you out of the vault. They were meant to make it easier for you to leave this universe. The first condition was the vessel. Lucifer took this young woman, who is gifted with the ability to manipulate angel magic and has your personality, out of a mundane life and threw her into the realm of the divine. She represents you. The second condition was her soul. Her soul belongs to Lucifer and it is stated that he must protect it. Do you know why that is?"

I knew about the soul. It didn't seem like an important matter. But if a soul is meant to be protected... "She can't be turned into a demon." And I knew how much Lucifer was inclined to corrupt human souls.

"Exactly. She remains intact as a human being. The purity and life-loving nature of her human soul is meant to be preserved."

"I don't understand what this implies."

"Think about it. Lucifer, the first to pervert human souls, is now bound by a cosmic bond to protect the soul of a human who resembles you in many ways. She _can_ fulfil the void you leave here. It is inevitable," he explained. "She was set up by Khaos for this purpose alone."

I contemplated how that would work. Zara, taking my place as Lucifer's source of guidance and support. It seemed fitting, actually. "I don't see how that's a problem," I surmised. "Lucifer would not have cause to miss me while I do this, then." That certainly made it easier to leave. If Zara "took my place", he would not have to face ordeals alone as I'd always feared.

Death sighed, probably discouraged by my perspective of things. I couldn't help it; I'd already made up my mind to go to Khaos. "You resemble God sometimes..." he lamented. "My point is that, if you let the conditions play out as they're supposed to, it would be the ultimate victory for Khaos. If you stay and work things out with Lucifer as I suggested, you will be denying Him that victory. You want to punish yourself on this insane quest, fine, but don't let Him have His way."

That... made sense. It was also extremely specific. Death must really hate Khaos if he was telling me in such detail what I ought to do, since he usually resorted to cryptic statements that vexed me. "Look at you getting all caring..."

"You know I want to spite my father," he waved it off. "But I suppose, in the deep recesses of my being, I do find you to be somewhat likeable."

"That's really sweet of you to say," I remarked. Despite everything that had happened, this gave me a glimmer of happiness. Maybe I would do as he said after all.

"Don't get used to it," he replied.

* * *

 _ **Sophia's House, Illinois – 16 July 2011, 2.42pm**_

When I returned to earth, I was surprised to find that nothing had changed. No mass destruction of angelic cause, though a few days had passed. Lucifer must still be mourning. I had to find him. I went back to the house but he wasn't there. With a heavy heart I walked through the field, reminiscing all the times Luc had ran through here and brushed his tiny hands against the flowers and leaves. It was here he had first attempted to fly. This was a few weeks ago, when he began developing movement in his wing muscles. It started as a small twitch in his feathers but I noticed the muscle contraction. He knelt and clasped his hands in concentration and slowly, he was able to flap his wings more and more. I felt nothing but immense love for him when I saw him doing this all on his own.

I picked him up and I tried to teach him how to fly. "You have to feel the wind and let your wings support you," I instructed him.

"I'm scared," he said as I held him away from my body.

"Don't worry, Cherub, Mommy will catch you if you fall," I reassured him with a warm smile. Hoping he would be able to do it, I threw him shortly up in the air above me. He squealed in shock and flailed his arms, but his wings didn't move. So I caught him in my arms as he succumbed to gravity. His arms wrapped tightly around my neck and I felt his heart pounding wildly. Poor thing was frightened by falling. I rubbed his back gently, whispering words of comfort to him. "It's okay to be afraid but you have to try again," I finally said. He groaned in reluctance, burying his head into my neck. "Trying new things can be scary, I know. But it is fear that helps us grow. We have to face things we don't understand if we want to become stronger."

After a little more coaxing, Luc finally agreed to try again. I threw him up again and I could see that he really tried. When I caught him again, he didn't tremble in fear like the first time. "See, your wings moved! You're almost there, honey," I encouraged him. I threw him once more and he flapped his wings more. For a split second he floated, though not enough to fly. He came back into my arms excited and giggling.

"Again!" he demanded.

"Not now, hon," I said. "Trying too hard in the beginning will make your wings sore. But I promise, you'll get there eventually." He looked dejected for a moment and I assaulted him with kisses. He burst out in laughter and giggles.

How bright the memory was. I sat on the front porch and saw how gloomy everything looked now. I made so many promises to Luciel. I had so many things to show him. He still hadn't mastered flying. He hadn't learnt how to make illusions, how to fight, how to manipulate weather. No doubt Lucifer had such big dreams too. Hell, the kid didn't even know the story of the universe – the angels, the rebellion, the fall. He would never wield his own blade. He would never make any more saplings. He would never rebel against us, his parents. To think I had once feared that stage in his life. Now I would do anything to deal with that.

I replayed Death's words in my head. Tell Lucifer the truth. Deal with loss together. But he skipped a step – endure his judgment. I could already imagine what he'd say. "How could you forsake our son?", "You're a horrible mother", "Your life should have been the sacrifice, not his" – all plausible statements. And I agreed with all of them.

"I can't do it!" my voice was a loud, raw groan which evolved into hysterical tears. My shoulders shook uncontrollably as I buried my face in my hands. I felt something warm and wet against my legs and I looked up to see the concerned eyes of my brown mutt. Dog's eyes were glistening too and he whimpered softly, sensing my anguish. I rubbed the back of his neck and he sat on my lap as I hugged him close to me. Dogs are such sensitive creatures. God should have coveted them more. I ran a hand through his fur coat as I rested my face against his back. "I need to leave, Dog." More whimpers sounded and I sat back up, sniffling. "God, you smell."

The dog stared at me in silence as I bathed it with a hose. It enjoyed the comfortable rubs and scratches as I went through its coat with shampoo, sticking out its tongue in approval. What a silly little thing – it was so easily amused. _I'll miss it when I'm gone._ Taking a few steps to position itself comfortably, the mutt shook itself dry, splashing water everywhere. As I bustled around the house to complete some final errands, Dog followed at my heel. I was afraid that if I stopped to look at him, I would give in to his sad whimpers and eyes that begged me to stay. It was almost unbearable, but at least it wasn't Lucifer.

* * *

 _ **Raziel's Office, New York – 17 July 2011, 12.05pm**_

The loft was silent. My footsteps echoed on the exquisitely-patterned marble floor as I looked around. No one else was here. _Good._ No one but Raziel. "Sophia," he greeted as he joined me by the window. "What brings you here? I could call the others down if you wa-"

"No, it's alright," I stopped his hand which reached into his pocket. I smiled the smile of someone who was going into death peacefully. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

His eyebrows furrowed briefly but eased up anyway. I hoped our mutual respect for each other would allow him to grant me one wish. "What about?"

"I'm here to say goodbye," I plainly stated, my gaze scanning the crowded city scape. "I'm going to be… out of town for a while."

"Out of town? Space?" he speculated.

"Something like that, yes," I confirmed. "I won't be on Earth."

"Alright…" he waited in anticipation as I hesitated. "For how long?"

"Of that, I am not sure." His eyes narrowed at my answer. "Point is, I won't be here."

"But… But we need you here," he protested, talking slowly as if he didn't believe what I was suggesting. "Your help has been invaluable to us."

"I know, I know," I acknowledged. "Which is why I'm leaving a repository of everything I know here on Earth."

"A repository is not a substitute for having an archangel mentor!" he argued. He studied my expression for a moment. "What's happening, Sophia? Why are you leaving?"

"I can't talk about it, Raz." He sighed, probably tired of putting up with my vagueness. Admittedly, there were several occasions in which I had wished I could tell him or my other apprentices more but I couldn't for a variety of reasons. He was probably used to it anyway.

"If you're really set on this, what am I supposed to tell the others? Pahaliah was really looking forward to becoming Luciel's teacher. Wait, are you taking the kid with you?" he barraged me with questions.

I desperately hoped he couldn't see the broken person inside of me when he mentioned Luciel. "Yes, I'm taking my son with me. Give her my apologies. Just tell everyone that I will be… absent, that it might be a while. And that I'm sorry I can't give you a proper explanation. It's just something that I need to do."

He nodded in consideration, a heaviness besetting his face. It made his vessel look older – a man in his mid-forties with a square jaw, a neat haircut and a dark van Dyke beard. The lines on his forehead deepened. "This repository, how do we access it?"

I mentally prepared myself for expressions of vexation. " _You_ … can't. No one can. Except Zara." He regarded me with confusion. "My vessel. It's in a place only she will be allowed to know. If you need anything, you must go through her."

"Your _vessel?_ "

"I understand if you feel unsettled by this safeguard I've put in place. But you must realise, this is all that _I_ know, and that is a lot. Enough to put everything around me in jeopardy if left unprotected," I explained.

"I get that," Raziel said, disbelief still in his voice. "But you're leaving your vessel? Where could you possibly be going that you're leaving your own vessel behind?" I felt Zara's voice clamouring to be heard as she witnessed this. She clearly wanted to question me, but that would have to come later so I shushed her and blocked her vision of what was happening.

"Raziel, please…"

"Will she even be… _functional_ … when you leave?"

"Oh, believe it. She's strong," I reassured him.

He paused in contemplation. A moment passed before he spoke up again. "Are you okay? You don't seem okay." So much for faking happiness.

"I'm fine," I lied. "I need you to trust me." _Because no one else will._ "No matter what anyone says, do not try to summon or find me in any way."

His shoulders dropped with a slow exhale. "If you're so set on this… I will respect your wishes. But I do this with a heavy heart."

* * *

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 17 July 2011, 4.08pm**_

I touched ground on the outskirts of the town among the comfort of trees. A tranquil mist was rising from the damp ground, giving the tall trees a blanket of white. I had flown around town for a while and this seemed like the most appropriate place and moment to say my goodbyes. I had kept my vessel in the dark for a while because I didn't want her to see what I was planning. But now was the time for her to awaken. "So this is where I take off," I said to Zara.

 _You can't leave, Sophia! Not now,_ she protested.

"I'm truly sorry that I have to leave you like this but I don't expect you to understand why. It's… complicated."

 _Complicated, my ass! What have I witnessed with you that isn't complicated?_ She paused, internally sighing. _Sorry, I just… I don't have a good feeling about this. Please don't go,_ she begged. _After all we've been though?_

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't have a good feeling about this either. But I must do what I must."

 _You can't just go off. What would Lucifer think? He needs you right now. And so do I!_ I felt her anger bubbling to the surface. Her voice weakened. _You think you're the only one suffering? He was my son too!_ I felt tears that she wanted to shed but could not. Along with that pain was anger at what happened. It was what I felt too, but now her anger was also directed at me. _I don't know how I can go on right now. If you leave…_

"I'm doing this for all of us!" I stated with a regrettably harsh tone. "I need to do something about it. Find him, bring him back, or at least get closure. I can't just stay here," I elaborated.

 _You said you wouldn't abandon me. I did what you asked me to. You promised!_ She began to sound exasperated. My heart sank at the thought – I did promise her an escape from humanity. But greater things were at play and I made a decision that I thought best for everyone involved.

"I also didn't trust you enough to leave your body again, but here we are. Looks like we both have to face things we don't like. I have no choice but to trust you once more." I sighed. Time to test our bond. "I need you to find Lucifer's old vessel and get him to say 'yes'. He'll probably last long enough." I slung over my shoulder a black leather bag, patting it. "I'm leaving you with supplies to take care of yourself. He should be nearby." We were standing in a forested area near Clarksburg, which was the location in the alternate reality where I found the vessel. Granted, some things may not be consistent between that reality and this one, but this was a big detail that I hoped was constant. "I hope I can trust you with this, Zara." After some resignation, she relented.

 _Alright. But you better come back with answers,_ she ordered. The forthrightness in this one – no wonder she was my vessel.

"I will."

 _And I mean it. You'd better come back,_ she said. Her attachment to me only made it more difficult for me to leave. As much as we'd had our troubles and differences in opinion, we felt comfortable with each other – I with her physical body and she with my perspective and power. After that incident with the temporary vessel, our connection only grew stronger and she developed a newfound resolution to understand and complement me. And so soon after, I had to leave. Undoubtedly, this would be hard for her. But if she and Lucifer helped each other like I hoped, all would be well.

"Take care, beloved human," I bid her farewell.


	42. The Answer To Everything

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Hey guys, I'd like to thank you all for your support so far. To be honest, I've been quite nervous about the chapters that follow this one, because I'll be writing from the perspectives of many different characters, not just Sophia's. Due to her leaving the universe, there is a huge mess left behind in her absence and the chapters to come will focus a lot on how the characters we all know and love deal with it, especially Zara and the Winchesters. Hope I can make it work :)

 **Chapter 42: The Answer To Life, The Universe and Everything**

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 17 July 2011, 4.13pm**_

The uncomfortable sensations of being physically aware of one's surroundings came to her as quickly as light filled Zara's vision. She could feel her feet standing firmly on the forest ground and the tightness in her shoulders. She was completely human again, no archangel in her. For a moment she couldn't believe it. It had felt so much more peaceful when Sophia was in control, though the last few hours were dark as Sophia didn't want her to see whatever was going on outside. It had felt disorienting, to be aware of being in one place one time and then waking up the next in a completely different environment without a clue of how much time had passed. At least she felt at rest during those hours that her awareness was blocked from the outside world.

And then she remembered. "Oh my God, Luc," she began sobbing quietly. She slowly knelt and curled up on the ground, the pain in her chest bursting like she had been stabbed. "My poor baby," she whispered with quivering lips. She wanted to hold him right then in her arms and give him kisses and tickle him. Everything would have been right in the world then. But it was all taken from her in an instant. Her beautiful son, offered as a sacrifice when Khaos stripped away from the Earth everything Sophia had cared about. Her fists clenched and she rocked back and forth when she thought about the injustice of it all. "He's not dead, he's not dead," she quietly repeated to herself like a mantra. It was true, she knew that, but simply saying it made her feel a little better. Then she realised that he was an angel so he could hear her prayers. Desperately, she clung onto the hope that he could hear her and she made a small prayer to him. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, knelt on the forest ground and clasped her hands. "Luciel, my child, my love, if you can hear me, I love you," she swallowed the tears away and continued. "I miss you and I love you. I pray that you will come back to me. I pray that you are safe, wherever you may be." She prayed to God next, though she knew it was probably futile.

Realising that she couldn't spend all her life on the forest ground, she stood up. Zara turned around slowly, observing the trees around her. They were almost evenly spaced out with tall, lean barks and needle-like leaves hanging from the branches. _Where the hell am I?_ It would have been helpful if Sophia had given her directions. And why did Sophia drop her off in a damn forest if she wanted Zara to go to the nearest city? A sense of hopelessness filled Zara as she wondered how she would get out of here. Where even was the nearest main road? Sighing heavily, she chose a random direction and decided to walk as long as it took to find civilization.

As she walked and felt the exertion in her leg muscles like it was something new, she contemplated her mission – find Lucifer his old vessel. How the hell was she supposed to do that in the middle of nowhere? She wanted to silently curse Sophia but she knew the archangel could probably hear her. Maybe she should just call Lucifer. Her heart palpitated. After what had happened between Sophia and Lucifer, he was probably mad and she didn't want to know what Satan was like when he was mad. Maybe she would wait a while before doing that. _What about the Winch- No, I shouldn't._ That wasn't even an option. After what happened the last time, she wasn't going to do anything to jeopardise the trust between her and Sophia. She made her choice in that nightclub when she slit that woman's throat – humanity was beneath her. She chose the archangel. Now she had to live with it. It was going to be tough, no doubt, to live up to Sophia's demands, but Zara thought it worthy. This was her destiny.

A scream pierced through the air. Zara gasped and froze in her step. Her fingers trembled as she slowly turned to the direction of the scream. A deadly silence thundered as her eyes stared blankly through the trees. That's when she spotted it. It was a tiny brown fleck in her vision but she recognised it to be a wooden cabin. How typical – something horrible happens in a deserted cabin in the woods where no one can hear your screams for miles. Every instinct in her told her to carry on her way to find the main road, but there was that sneaky voice in her head that told her to go near it. _Don't be stupid. What if it's a serial killer?_ Zara rummaged the bag Sophia gave her and surely enough, she found the archangel blade. The only bit of protection that Sophia had left with her, along with the hawk artefact which she wasn't completely sure how to use. At least Lucifer had taught her how to wield the blade, though only briefly. Alarm bells going off in her head, Zara slowly approached the cabin, skirting around it to look through the windows in the back.

The sound of slicing and oozing reached her before the sight. She recognised those sounds and it made her shudder. Someone was being murdered. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe easy and struggled to keep silent. Slowly, she approached the window and peeked in, which had a clear view of the living room and door. Light flooded in from the open door to reveal a large sheet of plastic on the floor, stained heavily with the blood of the victim. Zara recognised the scene from the many crime novels she'd read as a teenager – this was a neatly set up kill room. The poor woman looked to be in her mid-forties, with auburn hair and pale skin. Multiple stab wounds appeared on her chest and blood oozed out from them, forming pools on the clear plastic. And kneeling over her dead body was a man with dirty blond hair and leather gloves, holding a bloody knife. Zara stifled a gasp. It was him – the old vessel. Was he possessed? Did Lucifer already find him? _No, that can't be._ Lucifer wouldn't go through the trouble of setting up a kill room. This… this was all him.

So this was why Sophia dropped her here. Sophia knew she would find him here. But Sophia had failed to mention that the guy was in the middle of murdering someone. Didn't Sophia know that most humans don't want to be seen killing other people? Zara knew she had to talk to him, but fear overcame her that he would be unwilling to talk in this particular context. She had her blade, sure, but he was bigger than her and she hadn't trained in a while so her limited knife-fighting skills would not be reliable enough to take him. She thought it best to watch from afar and wait for him to leave before following him and finding out where he lived. Zara took a step back. A twig crunched under her foot. "Shit," she muttered sharply under her breath. Her eyes moved back to the window. The man was now looking at her with icy blue eyes.

Berating herself for cursing out loud, she turned heels and sprinted. It wasn't long before she heard the thumping of his footsteps towards her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she cursed outwardly as she looked around her for somewhere to hide. Conveniently, a large dilapidated warehouse came into view. She ran through the open rusty doors and wished her eyes would hurry in adjusting to the darkness. Rows of shelves, boxes and other strange items came into view and Zara wasted no time in hiding behind several shelves, putting distance between herself and the door. Through the gap between two dusty boxes she saw a dark silhouette at the door. He cast a long, intimidating shadow on the open space near the entrance of the warehouse. "I know you're here," he said into the darkness. Zara began to quiver at the sound of his voice, which seemed to mask an underlying evil. It was the same voice she'd heard when Lucifer had first found her.

He took a few steps in, looking around. "I just want to talk," he said as he began walking down an aisle between two rows of metal shelves. Then he stopped, as though he had found something of intrigue. Dark as it was, his keen eyes made out a small woman-sized footstep in the dust and he followed the trail. Seeing that he was onto her, she slowly crept through the darkness again, going towards the entrance this time in hopes of making a break for it. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement," he continued to talk, as though any sane person in this situation would believe what he had to say. He drew closer and Zara panicked, moving ahead as fast and quietly as she could without turning back to see where he was.

The door was so close. She could see its light streaming through the stacked shelves and saw an opening where there was a gap between a shelf and the wall adjacent to the door. Zara hurried towards it, not realising that the footsteps had stopped. Just as she turned the corner to run out the front door, strong arms grabbed her from behind and spun her around to push her up against the wall. Their eyes met properly for the first time as his left hand clamped over her mouth and his right pressed a knife against the base of her neck. He was ready to slice her throat but recognition flashed in his eyes. A small frown creased his forehead as he saw the panic in her soulful brown eyes. "You?" he asked.

His arms released her and he took a step back. Zara took in heavy, deep breaths, silently grateful that she didn't have to hold her breath anymore. "Yes, it's me," she spoke in between breaths.

"You're not… possessed?" he asked, waving his knife in the air. "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's a relief," she replied dryly. "Because it would suck if you did."

"How did you find me? Why are you here?" he began bombarding her with questions.

"It's a long story. Can we talk somewhere else? Preferably without knives?" she requested.

He paused, considering her response. His eyes studied her face, which he had only known through Lucifer's eyes. She was the vessel of Lucifer's beloved and during the time they had spent together he had seen the absolute fondness that Lucifer had for her. Both of them had a strange history. In that moment, that was reason enough for him to trust her. "I suppose we can," he replied. "But first, I need to dispose a body. Care to help?"

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **Aphelia's Arch, Edge of The Universe – Unspecified Time in Space**_

Once more I found myself before the golden gate to the Void. Everything I'd come to know now stood behind me. In this moment, I was unbearably alone but this was the path I had chosen. My heart still ached with grief and loss. If anything, this strengthened my resolve to find something of worth to avenge what had been done to my son and salvage whatever remained of me. Hesitation gnawed at me as I thought of Lucifer. I was doing this for him too. Uncertainty about the future looming over my head, I stepped into the arch and felt the chaotic mess of the Void envelop me.

I was now part of a place separate from the two universes. A completely new realm. I had said my goodbyes to my home and my vessel. A coldness filled me, making me feel numb. I didn't come here to be comfortable, or feel validated. I came here for penance and answers. In all my life, being away from my home in Illinois and Lucifer was the greatest punishment I could think of. With the Void, I was taking it one step further and leaving my universe. It felt scary to think of leaving a place so familiar to me, despite the hardships I'd endured there. With a hardest of hearts, I trudged through the darkness to find the familiar door. Eventually, I found it and entered the place they called the Omniverse – Khaos' office.

"It's about time you showed up," His smug smile greeted me. I groaned internally.

"Khaos Delta," I greeted the lean, muscular figure made of shiny black goo. He was illuminated by the light coming from several screens all around us depicting incidents in various universes.

"Come to accept our offer?" His tone was so jovial that I would have strangled Him right there and then if I could.

I crossed my arms, unwilling to reciprocate his enthusiasm. "I want to see my son first," I demanded. "Bring me to him."

Delta made a hissing sound as His head shrunk back. "I'm afraid that's not allowed," He said. "Sorry."

"What?" I snapped at Him. "What do you mean that's not allowed? It's just one visit!" I had been able to exist in the matter universe as an 'imbalance' all this while, so why wouldn't it be allowed for me to see my son in the antimatter universe?

"The balance has just been restored. If you try to disturb it again, there will be cosmic consequences," Delta explained. Sounded like a load of crap to me. "Now can we move on to matters of your stay with us?"

My eyes stung with tears. For a moment there I was filled with hope of seeing my little one again. Now I was stuck here with the realisation that that was probably never ever going to happen. _No, I will find him. I must._ Blinking away the tears, I replied with gritted teeth, "I just want my answers. Why is this happening?"

"Be patient, Sophia. You won't get anything by rushing. The only way this goes down is _quid pro quo_."

A momentary hesitation gripped me. "Alright. What are we talking?"

Khaos carefully laid out His proposal to me. I hated this. He wanted me to be His soldier, carrying out the duties I normally did but in various other universes in the multiverse. Erasing information, destroying banks of dangerous knowledge, restoring balances, annihilating false prophets – all this I would have to do discreetly, undetected, and by His methods. He would point me where I had to go, and I had to unquestioningly follow His orders. "What's the point, then," I began. "Of having me? Anyone can follow blind orders."

"Oh, Sophia, always so cynical," He sighed. "You follow my orders, yes, but it is your perspective and your expertise that I need. _But_ if I was being totally honest…" his long, thin fingers grasped my hand. "You really are special to me. I just want to take care of you." His grip on my hand tightened. I shuddered internally. "But be warned: if you choose to do this, you may not be allowed to leave except for when I allow you to. It's all part of the learning experience."

I struggled momentarily to be free of his grasp but I managed to pull my hand away. A deep breath escaped my lips. I cleared my throat. What a huge decision. He practically wanted to hold me prisoner. At the back of my mind, however, I somehow remained confident that there would always be a way out – my life thus far had been evidence of this. I hoped I could trust my own capabilities and wit. After all, what would be more worth my skills than the pursuit of the truth behind what happened and finding out what happened to my kid? "Where do I start?" I asked, heart sinking despite the prior reassurance I gave myself. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"I have some work for you, yes. We'll start with some basic stuff so that you can get used to how things work around here," He replied, keeping His observant expression fixed on me. I was waiting for Him to give me a more detailed description, but it never came.

"I'm ready to begin," I declared, though uncertainty filled me.

"Great," He opened His arms as though to embrace me. I desperately hoped not. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. We were always meant to be, Sophia. I hope you can see that now."

Ever since, I'd been observing Khaos as He went about His business through the screens in the omniverse. I thought being a mere observer would be an easy position, but what He had me witness was far more horrifying than I'd expected. He showed me the creation of universes, but He also showed me how they were destroyed. Nothing compared to the sight of all that matter or antimatter, all that information, being decimated like it was nothing. From my perspective, all of creation was special in its own way, holding infinite potential for what it could become. But from what Khaos showed me, creation and destruction were merely on-and-off switches to Him. And this terrified me. It was too much power.

During all this time, I missed home terribly. Being in the Void, alone with Khaos, it was lonely. All my other alternate selves seemed to be on missions of their own so I never saw them – at least that's what Khaos told me. I was always suspicious of everything that He said about them. With His weird fixation on me, I couldn't tell what His deal was. He acted like He cared for me, but I could sense that there was something underneath that amorphous skin that He hid well. It made me wary of Him. For so long, I only had the stark blackness of the walls, the floor and energy of the Void and Omniverse. Sure, I roamed free in this space, but it felt like a prison all on its own. I wasn't allowed to leave unless it was with Khaos so I preferred the quiet solitude of the Omniverse, where I could simply stare out the windows at the various universes.

Every day I thought about what I'd left behind. My friends, my lover, my enemies – such a wholesome life I'd had there. It seemed so colourful in my memory. I had an aching love for all of it, including what I hated. In fact, the more I stayed in the Void, the more I realised that those who I had considered my enemies – Raphael, Castiel, the Winchesters – were also valuable to me. More than anyone, they had reacted to my presence. In their minds, I was _there_ , doing something of significance to them. In the great tango which was our antagonism, I had lived and grown and won and lost. This I missed here in the Void. The grey, unforgiving, alien, lonely, mocking space of the Void. I couldn't even consider Khaos to be a person who showed emotion – it was all just words to me. I could tell that He tried to connect with me but I was too dead on the inside to reciprocate anything. I lost track of how much time passed here.

Then I truly wondered if this was really the right choice. Perhaps it wasn't best to have made such a drastic decision in a moment of grief. But there was little I could do about it now. Just thinking about seeing Lucifer again made me twitchy and uncomfortable. What would it be like to be among all those colours again? I would feel like an outsider again, now that I was used to the greyness of the Void, right? And then one day I had the chance to find out.

* * *

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 17 July 2011, 6.10pm**_

Zara's legs were aching by the time they reached the car. It was parked at a diner ten minutes away from the national park, which was in turn a long walk from the forest. On top of that, they had spent an hour or so disposing of a messy corpse. _This guy really knows how to cover his tracks_ , she thought. Did that make her scared of him? She still wasn't sure. All she knew was that he could have killed her if he wanted to, but he didn't and that had to be a good sign. She looked at his dashboard while he popped into the diner to get them some food. They would have just eaten there, but a diner full of people wasn't really a conducive environment to talk about being the vessels of archangels or murder openly. The dashboard was plain, undecorated, like there was no personality to be shown – or rather, he didn't want to show anything of his personality. A quick peek in the glove box revealed some ordinary items, like cigarettes, music CDs, receipts. Again, nothing of import. _Black Sabbath. Cool,_ she thought as she inspected a CD.

She quickly closed the glove box when he got back into the driver's seat and handed her a bag with take-away. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Nick," he said blankly as he turned the key in the ignition. "You're Zara, right?"

"Yes and I'm surprised you remember anything at all," Zara confessed. The smell of warm pasta wafted from the bag on her lap and for a moment that was all she could think of. Then her mind returned to why she was here and she realised she just needed to get something out of the way. "Um so… back there, you were… well…" she stammered.

"Stabbing someone. Yes, I know," he acknowledged. "But you didn't take to that as badly as I thought. Most people freak out when they see that much blood. And most people certainly wouldn't have helped me hide a body. So you must have some… experience, right?"

Zara thought back to all the times Sophia had brutally murdered people. And then the time when she slit someone's neck herself with Sophia egging her on. "Yeah," she nodded. "You could say that." Suddenly she realised she didn't have to feel so uneasy anymore. They were just two killers hanging out and talking openly about their experience. _Killer._ Now it seemed so absurd to think of herself as one. _I am a killer,_ she repeated in her mind slowly, trying to reflect on what that meant for her. Whatever she concluded, she knew then that she could lower her defences with Nick for the time being.

Nick stole a glance at her as he drove down the highway. She simply stared ahead into the distance, a sombre look on her face. Whatever she was thinking, she seemed to be overwhelmed or concerned, not deceptive. Her soft gaze held no ulterior motive, he could tell. "So how long has it been?" he asked. "When did the angel leave you?"

"Just moments before I saw you," she answered honestly. "She told me she had to go and that I had to find you." She expected him to probe her about why Sophia wanted her to seek him out.

"Wow, you're holding it together a lot better than I did," he chuckled. "You sure you're okay? I was in a daze for hours when Lucifer left me."

Zara was touched by his concern. "Yeah, I think I'll be fine. This isn't the first time she's left me." She didn't bother to elaborate. She looked out the window, observing the scenery change from trees to buildings.

"Oh," he paused. "So you said she wanted you to find me?"

Zara looked back at him for a moment. His blond hair, his stubbled jaw, his broad shoulders – it was his face that she had seen first when it all changed for her. He was the very vision of her destiny to be among divine beings. She didn't know how she felt about that yet. But what she did feel was a heaviness in her soul. Her mind still wandered back to Luc inevitably and she thought she would break into tears again.

"Hey, are you alright?" Nick asked again, noticing the tears build up in her eyes.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes. "No," she admitted. "I'm sorry, I just… I need some time."

Nick's eyes held a sympathy as he saw the discomfort in her demeanour. She looked really vulnerable, her shoulders drooping and her arms hugging the food close to her body protectively. A murderer though he was, he wasn't incapable of understanding what she was feeling – he had been in pretty low places before too. And if anyone deserved his empathy, it was this girl who had been the vessel of an archangel just like he had. "Sure," he replied. "Take all the time you need."

The rest of the drive was filled with silence. Zara's gaze didn't waver from the road. She felt detached, unable to feel her own self anymore. Her head passively leaned against the headrest as Nick drove into town and parked near his apartment building. Zara recognised it – it was the same one he had in that alternate reality when Sophia was trying to find him. So that's why Sophia chose to drop her off here. The walk from the parking lot to the elevator and eventually into the apartment was just a blur to her. Maybe she _was_ going into a daze like what Nick suggested. Her attention was brought back to reality when a hot plate of pasta was set before her on the table. She snapped out of her daze and looked around, suddenly realising that she didn't remember entering the apartment and sitting down. She looked up and saw Nick's cold, dead eyes staring back at her. She muttered thanks and took a gulp of water before beginning on her plate of food.

Nick watched silently as she gobbled down her food eagerly. He wasn't surprised at all; it was like seeing what exactly he went through when he woke up in Detroit in a dilapidated apartment. He was dazed and confused at first, and then he was glad he still had a wallet full of cash. But that was all he had on him. He had woken up in a room full of dead people without a clue of what he was supposed to do with his life next. He silently cursed Lucifer for leaving him alive and grudgingly went out for a heavy meal. Nothing beat the hunger of a vessel who was discarded by an angel.

"So what happened to you?" Zara asked meekly. The comfort of warm food filling her stomach put her at ease momentarily. "After Lucifer left, I mean. How did you end up here?"

"It was rough," Nick replied in between gulps. He sat across the table from her. "I moved around here and there. Did some odd jobs to keep myself alive. Eventually I moved here because rent was manageable and I got a job at the factory nearby. It's not good money, but it pays the rent and gets me food so that's good enough."

She nodded. "You didn't go back home?"

His hands paused, holding the fork and knife over the plate, before he slowly carried on. "I… didn't want to. I have a new life here," he answered with a hint of reservation in his voice. "It's a simple life. Not much to think about."

They finished their meals in silence. This was the first time in a long time that Zara had proper human interaction without the threat of being killed or having to kill someone. And ironically, this was with someone she had just witnessed killing someone else. But why was he killing that woman? She thought back to their earlier conversation. Somehow the topic had just shifted from his murder to her. He had deflected her incoming questions about it and she hadn't even realised. She'd also just helped him clear up a crime scene without asking any questions. Too much was on her mind for that to be important. She had just wanted to get a chance to speak with him about why she was there. But now she felt like a heavy block rested on her chest. Her emotional turmoil was becoming so overwhelming that she wasn't sure she wanted to do anything anymore.

Before she knew it, she found herself staring out the window, hand on the glass. How had she gotten here? She looked back at the living room. Nick was clearing the plates and the clock showed the time to be 7.30pm. The sky was dark and the roads were illuminated by the yellow streetlamps. She'd lost track of time again. "Hey, you could use the shower if you want to," Nick called out from the sink. She stared blankly at him. "You have clothes to change into?"

She looked through the black leather bag that Sophia had left her with. A single set of clothes was in there, including a long dress typical of what Sophia would normally wear though that day she had been dressed up in a long-sleeved shirt and pants. At least Sophia gave her some variety. "Yeah, thanks," Zara took up his offer and got cleaned up.

Later, she plopped down on the couch, becoming increasingly tired by the moment. What would she do now? Go rent a motel room until she sorted out whatever was going on in her head? The more she thought about it, the less certain she seemed of the whole task that Sophia had left her with. Sighing, she dug through her bag to see what else she had. She had a wallet filled with cash, which was great, but in it was something far more valuable. A palm-sized photo. It was a pic of her holding Luc a week after he was born. A rush of warmth filled her to see it, to fasten the memory of him in her mind. Her vision became blurry as she felt tears sting her eyes again. She closed her fingers around the photo as she saw Nick approaching her.

He set down two glasses in front of her and poured some scotch into them. He handed her a glass. "This should help with whatever you're feeling," he advised.

She stared at the brown liquid. She remembered a time when she swore off substances that would harm her body, like drugs and alcohol. She had been somewhat of a purist in that sense, adhering to certain rules to keep herself in shape and healthy after this one LSD trip that had helped her kick her addictions and straightened her out. But now, did any of that matter to her anymore? She accepted the glass and sipped on the scotch. Her anguish dulled in comparison to the physical sensations of alcohol burning in the back of her throat.

"You know," Nick began as he watched her. His eyes roved over her high cheekbones and oval face, which was radiant though the room was dimly lit. "You may not want to talk about it but I think you'd feel better if you did."

Hesitantly, she opened up her clenched fist and revealed the photograph to him. He took it in his hand and studied it. His eyes narrowed then widened at the thought. "The kid's yours?" he asked, trying to imagine what her tears then implied.

"Technically, he's Sophia and Lucifer's son. But I still loved him like he was mine alone," her voice broke. "They took him away, Nick. He's gone." She thought of how to explain the situation but it was all too complicated for her to string together a coherent account, especially in that moment. "She told Lucifer he was dead because it would be easier to believe and I… I just can't deal with all of this now," this time she broke down and took a few more sips of her drink.

Nick didn't understand what exactly she meant but he didn't want to press the matter any further. Whatever happened, she had the look of a parent who had lost their child and he knew better than anyone what that felt like. Ever since that fateful night that a criminal broke into his house and murdered his wife and daughter in cold blood he was a changed man, never to return to the happy man he once was. That pain was what drove him to accept Lucifer in the first place. He didn't care anymore about the world, God or Satan. God didn't care about what happened, it had occurred to him, and so He wouldn't care if one tiny human said 'yes' to Lucifer.

His gaze softened. "I just thought," she continued. "That having Sophia would make me more powerful. That nothing bad could happen to me as long as I had her and she had me. But this? Sophia couldn't do anything to stop this. This just makes me feel even more helpless." She tried her best to stop sobbing and swallowed more tears.

"I understand," he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Really, I do." As though realising something, he took out a small photo from his own pocket and showed it to her. Through her tears she saw in the photo a woman holding a baby standing next to him. It dawned on her who they were and why he was showing it to her. She stared at it, holding it carefully with both her hands as he told his story. "In just one night, the one night that I had to work late, a monster took everything I cared about away from me."

"Does it ever stop hurting?" Zara's finger traced the image of the woman and her child with a finger.

Nick let out a deep breath. "No. It never does." Their eyes met. For once, he saw the same pain he'd felt in her eyes. No one around him could ever understand what it had done to him. His family grieved, yes, his friends conveyed their condolences, yes, but no one was there to share his misery. To have lost people who were everything to you to such a violent fate wasn't easy. He'd woken up several days not even wanting to go to work. He'd tried a few times, but it became so unbearable that he had just quit his job to lay around in bed all day and drink himself into sleep. That was when Lucifer had found him. It was rare that people actually got to a point so low that they simply lived as though they were dead. But now he saw it happening again, to Zara. He could see it in her eyes that this was where she was headed. And truly, he didn't know how to help her even if he wanted to. He had gone to Lucifer to get away from it, and she had come away from Sophia into the deep abyss of the same mental torment.

After an extended silence, Zara spoke again. "Did we do the right thing?" she spoke more clearly now that she had stopped crying. "Are we bad people for saying 'yes' to them?"

"Doesn't matter," he answered. "The world isn't a better place because of the good people in it. And it isn't a worse place because of the bad people in it. Things just… are and nothing exists to make sense of it."

She nodded and thought about what he said. It was the only thing that made sense to her. Finding a semblance of peace in what he said, she wanted to move on to pursue her initial question. "Is that why… you killed that woman?"

She hesitantly met his gaze. He searched her eyes for judgment but it was not there. It was a genuine question. "Maybe," he said shortly, as she finished her drink and set the glass down on the table. She was beginning to feel dizzy and welcomed the sweet embrace of drunkenness. "Remember what you said earlier about Sophia making you feel powerful? That's exactly how I felt with Lucifer. All my worries faded away for a while. Even though he was… he was brutal, violent and aggressive, all I felt was his power." Nick stared at the ground as he recounted his feelings. "With every person he killed, I felt a release. With every life he destroyed, I felt… _exhilarated._ And you have no idea – well, I suppose you _do_ have an idea – how meagre being human felt in comparison. When he left, I felt… small. I was _nothing_. And somehow I just knew that I could feel powerful again if I did what he did." His icy eyes bore into hers and again, he saw no judgment. Zara understood what he was trying to say. As much as she hadn't thought about it before, she had felt the same way when Sophia made her kill that woman in the nightclub. It wasn't just a closeness to Sophia that she had relished from that experience, but it was the feeling of power – the feeling that she had absolute control over another person's life and could dictate when it would end. She understood.

"How do you pick your targets?" she asked out of the blue.

He was taken by surprise, but he was more than relieved to share it with her. "I pick people who are alone and don't have anyone to care about them." He was pleasantly amazed by how she took to all of this. It was like he found someone who could utterly and completely understand his pain and his motivations. This was astonishingly new and it electrified the air between them. "Zara," he said her name with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. "Did you ever feel Sophia's emotions as strongly as your own?"

Her deep brown eyes softened at the thought. "Yes, all the time. It was almost like I _was_ her. Why?"

"Because I felt what Lucifer felt too. Every emotion he had," Nick stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger. "Even the ones he felt for Sophia."

Her cheek flared at his touch and her head turned slightly towards his finger. When she looked back at him, he had closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers. She pulled back, surprised by the turn of events. She looked into his eyes again and saw in them a softness, none of the coldness of the killer she'd seen earlier in them. She realised then that she needed this connection, this understanding, that no one else in the whole world could give her. Her skin tingled as their lips stood mere inches apart. The drink gave her a new kind of boldness, one that she'd never really cultivated towards another person in the years coming up to the moment she met Lucifer. She leaned back in and kissed him, every fibre of her being beginning to crave his touch. The fires of lust ignited in both of them as their kisses deepened and grew in intensity. As his arms cradled her waist, her hands held his neck, holding him to her.

Within no time, they fell onto the bed, unclothed and wrapped in each others arms. They felt each other as deeply and lovingly as Lucifer and Sophia had when they saw each other for the first time in two hundred thousand years. This did feel like a reunion after all, with them returning to each other in this familiar embrace. Zara's arms traced his back while Nick held her waist close to him and thrust into her. She relished the feel of his warm breath against her neck and the tickle of his stubble on her skin. They both moaned softly, only intending their sounds of pleasure for each other like a secret kept between them. Soon, their shared ecstasy reached its peak and in a single moment, they felt their hearts beat in unison. When they were done, Zara was shaking all over and Nick laid his head against her chest, taking rest in her soft bosom. Her hands caressed his hair as they both breathed heavily. _What was it I came here to do?_ she asked herself.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **The Omniverse, The Void – Unspecified Time in Space**_

"What is it that you want, Sophia?" Khaos questioned, a harsh inflection in His tone. "I'm really trying my best to make this enjoyable for us." He stood next to me as I stared blankly out of a window at a pair of universes.

"I didn't come here to enjoy myself, Khaos," I answered. "I came here because I had nowhere else to go. I came here for answers. Which you haven't given me yet."

"Well I didn't let you in here for you to brood all the time by yourself!" He stated. "You and the other created beings all lament about how God and Amara never spend enough time with you yet here I am, an all-powerful being who wants nothing but to cherish you, and you don't even stop by to say 'Hi'."

"If you were so lonely, why didn't you create a universe of your own?" I shot back. His shoulders tensed at the suggestion. That seemed to have struck a chord.

I turned to face Him when I realised He was eerily silent. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me up against the window. "I don't _want_ my own universe," He whispered belligerently as He leaned in close to my face. "I _want_ you!"

My words were stuck in my throat. I pushed against His chest, trying to get free, but He simply pushed me again harder against the window. "If only you knew…" He said. "… what you mean to me. Maybe I should show you."

In the blink of an eye, we stood in a completely different place. This was the first time Khaos had actually taken me out of the Void. All the previous times, I had watched Him and done what He'd said in the confined space of the Omniverse, in that room with the many screens. Now we were on the earth, dry and barren. But it wasn't my earth. We were in another universe I didn't recognise – it seemed almost completely lifeless that one could hardly recognise it to be earth. Khaos let me go and stepped backwards. The moment my feet touched the dry ground, I felt a tingle. There was potential for life here, despite its appearance. It just seemed… weakened.

Unable to resist, tendrils of energy reached out from me to the ground and grass sprung out where my feet stood. Greenery radiated outwards from where I was and soon the earth was significantly brighter than it was before. This whole action seemed so natural to me, like I'd never even left. "What is this supposed to prove?" I probed.

"This universe… it doesn't have you in it. Neither does its sister universe. Do you know why?" He paused to observe the outgrowth of nature. "The 'you' of this universe was killed here. When you died, you took all of nature with you. Not because you had to, or because it was inevitable – but because you could." His voice took on a firm tone toward the end. "Sure, there are some food sources here and there, humans still live in small numbers and the angels and demons are having it out here, but without you, all of creation has lost its magical touch."

I felt my eyebrows crease into a frown. _That didn't sound like something I'd do…_ "What happened here, _exactly_?"

"Did what I just said escape your hearing?" Khaos crossed His arms and angled away from me. "But if you must know, this is the earth after the apocalypse. The Winchester boys you love so much were never born so Michael and Lucifer found vessels rather easily. They fought it out, and in the fight, Michael killed you and you cursed the earth with your dying breath. And this is the result."

I thought back to the time before the apocalypse. I had wanted to help Lucifer fight Michael but he'd stopped me. It wasn't even up for discussion. Lucifer didn't want me anywhere near the chosen field. If I hadn't listened… this would have happened. "How could I have done it? I am not powerful enough to cause this much damage in one go," I questioned, finally turning my mind back to whatever point Khaos was trying to make.

"Sophia, Sophia…" Khaos shook His head slowly. "Don't you get it? You understand creation better than you think. You know _exactly_ how to do this! What is it that I told you before about information?"

" _Information is the code of the universes_ ," I recalled. "Whatever that means."

"You'll know," He simply stated. "Point is, you're capable of _this._ And it's _beautiful._ You are so full of love for the earth, yet so ruthless in your anger! You are no mere archangel. You see everything from our perspective – my siblings and I. You just don't know it yet."

"I… I don't understand. What are you saying?"

Suddenly, His enthusiasm skyrocketed. It seemed absurd to me how He could be so serious and frustrated one moment and then jovial the next. "You see knowledge. It comes naturally to you," He began, a smile beginning to form on His face. "It's like the strings of a marionette. And you're the puppet-master. But all this while, your God and Amara have kept it a secret from you. They see your power and they fear it, though they don't speak of it. It's the same way they've treated me all this while."

"That doesn't make any sense," I rebutted. "Amara _made_ me. How could She have made me into something She would fear?"

Khaos laughed heartily, holding a palm to His chest. He took a few step back and turned around, walking ahead and beckoning me to follow. I did, and the radius of bright, green grass grew around me. "Make you, She did. She wanted a daughter to see what creation was like; whether it lived up to how great God always said it was. Or maybe She wanted to spite God and war with Him. I can never tell…" He began to explain as we walked aimlessly on the earth. "But She never paid attention to the details like God. You see, God tried to avoid making you. He knew the risks. If He wanted to create you, He would have been more careful, but that's a different story. Amara saw the potential for something dangerous and immediately checked the box. That's how you were made. It's not that She actively feared you. She wanted to use you. But of course, you deflected and here you are."

I was speechless. For a long time, I remained silent and we kept journeying across the earth, restoring life to its roots. What was it about me that was so abominable? Would I ever find out? Did I want to? "So you 'want' me…" I hated saying that… "because you want my power?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way…" Khaos shrugged. "I like to think that we were meant to be a team. You see, order can only arise from chaos. I need to exist for order to exist and hence creation. The moment God or Amara decide they want to create, I must grant them their wish. I have no choice in the matter. But what I _do_ have a choice in, is how well their projects work. They hate that I can do that, so they try to limit my involvement in their creations. But with your help, I can do something about it."

A strong gust of wind blew, sweeping my hair to my side. I wrapped my wings around me to shield myself from it, but also because of the chilling realisation of what Khaos could want from me. "But you can create and destroy universes easily. You showed me. Why are you limited by God and Amara?"

"The only thing I can create in those universes is chaos. The only thing I destroy is the potential for more chaos. The very mechanism of my creation is destruction, and vice versa. Only my siblings are capable of bringing order to the universes. So yes, I am limited in that manner, but do not mistake it for weakness."

 _Oh, never._ After what He had put me through in that alternate reality, I don't think I could ever see Him as incapable of anything. But what He had described sounded like something that should be beyond my comprehension. Matters like this were only for God and Amara to know and us, the creations, were supposed to adore and worship them for their wisdom when it came to creation. It was only now I realised that I was intentionally limiting myself from wanting to know this stuff. I had an immediate reservation to thinking that I could ever understand creation so intimately – it had been part and parcel of growing up under God. Khaos seemed to want me to forgo this reservation. What was I to do?

"You wonder why I treasure you so much." Khaos snapped me out of my thoughts. "There is an age-old question at the centre of all that is and ever could be. And you are the answer to everything."

This was a huge mistake.


	43. The Question of Normalcy

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 43: The Question of Normalcy**

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Nick's Apartment, Clarksburg, West Virginia – 18 July 2011, 7.30am**_

A sliver of sunlight cut through the closed curtains and illuminated the room. Zara opened her eyes. It took a while for her blurry vision to focus and her dazed mind to remember where she was. She saw her palm resting on his chest. Then she realised her head was rested against his shoulder. Then came the sensation of his arm on her back, holding her to him. She remembered – she was in Nick's apartment and they had been talking and drinking. And somehow the discourse had ended in the bedroom. Her eyes wandered to his face and she took a moment to observe his angled jaw, his blond scruff… and then his open eyes. His icy blue eyes stared straight up at the ceiling, like he had been for a while now. He turned his head towards her and seeing that she was awake too, he caressed a strand of her dark brown hair away from her rosy cheek and gently kissed her forehead. "I have to get ready for work," he whispered as he slowly pulled away and got into the shower.

Zara remained silent, hugging the blanket to her bare chest as she contemplated what she would do next. _I need to tell him the truth. I need to get him to say 'yes' to Lucifer._ She thought back to last night. It had felt… good. Nick seemed like a really nice guy, when you discount the murder stuff. After all, she was still alive, wasn't she? He had understood things about her that she couldn't even put into words. It had felt satisfying to have that connection with someone. It seemed to her like she wanted to get to know him more. It was just a small inkling yesterday, but now it seemed like it was something she had to do. For the first time in a long time, she had felt a closeness to another human being. But she was still duty-bound to do what she was put here to do.

 _I'd still need to understand him better if I was to convince him,_ she told herself. _Maybe I should just spend a little more time here._

Later, as she got out of the shower and settled on a seat at the table, Nick set a plate of piping hot pancakes before her. _I could get used to this,_ she thought with slight amusement. The smell of vanilla was all-encompassing and she dug into them before she could think about anything else. "Mmmm…" she let out a loud moan as she savoured the taste before abruptly stopping. She caught Nick staring at her as she did this. "Sorry, it's just… I haven't had pancakes in a while," she explained. He cracked a small smile as he sat next to her with his own plate.

"No I get it…" he reassured her. "It's just funny to see someone else go through the same experience."

She managed a grin in response. "So um… where do you work?"

"There's a hardware factory nearby," he answered. "I work the regular nine-to-five hours."

Zara nodded in acknowledgement. "Look, Nick, about why I'm here…"

"You need me to say 'yes' to Lucifer again?" he finished her sentence.

"Yeah," she was surprised he figured that out.

"I thought so," he took another bite of his breakfast and then paused, staring out the window. "I need to think about it."

"That's fine," she said, relieved that she didn't have to worry about his reaction any longer. "I'll just find a hotel to stay in, in the meantime."

"You can stay here if you'd like," he offered.

"That's really nice of you but…" she thought back to when he'd said that he was barely making rent. "I don't want to be a freeloader or anything."

"Then don't be," he insisted. "We could share this place. You could get a job."

"I don't know." She was uncertain how long she'd be here. It wouldn't be worth making the effort to get a job if they were leaving soon and by 'they', that meant Lucifer and her. Not Nick.

"Think about it," Nick suggested. "While I'm gone, you could go out and get some supplies for yourself. You have cash?"

"Yeah, plenty. Enough to share rent, actually," she replied, emphasising that she would _not_ be a freeloader.

"Great. We'll talk more later." Zara observed how quick he was to tell her to take care of herself and offer her a place to stay. What could that mean for them? Why was he being so nice to her? He really didn't have to. For all she knew, he could hate the idea of being a vessel again and reject her offer. But he made no indication that this was the case. Was he stalling? There was only one way to find out. She had to be a normal human being for the day.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **The Impala, Seattle, Washington – 4 days after Lucifer was pulled out of the cage by Khaos, 15 July 2011, 12.14am**_

Sam's lips were pursed as he drove the Impala down the highway. He was tense, almost furious, after what his brother had just been through in their hunt the past few days. They had unexpectedly run into a group of Amazonian women, one of whom got knocked up by Dean and gave birth to a daughter who was supposed to kill her father as an initiation rite. She would have been successful if Sam hadn't shown up to make the decision that Dean became too hesitant to make. After all of that, when they had gone to hunt down the nest of Amazonian women, they had simply cleared out and skipped town, leaving no trace.

"Hey, you know what? I don't like it, either. I wanted to torch 'em just as much as you. Yeah, but, hey... next time they surface, we'll be ready. If we live that long," Dean remarked, trying to get their spirits up after a failed hunt. Sam simply remained silent, eyes fixed on the road. "All right, fine. Just sit there and be pissed."

Sam huffed. "What did you say to me... when _I_ was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? 'You kill the monster!'"

"I was _going_ to!" Dean argued.

"Oh, the hell you were! You think I'm an idiot?" Sam retorted.

"What, you think _I_ am?"

"Dean, you were gonna let her walk!"

"No, I wasn't. That's ridiculous!"

Sam heaved a deep breath. "Look, I know you probably thought she was yours and I've been there, man. But you had to know she was a crazy man-killing monster."

"Like you knew so well with Satan's kid," Dean shot back.

"Dude," Sam sighed, rubbing a hand down his chin. "That was different. And you know it."

"Yeah, how?"

"The kid's not evil. He healed me. And he has the same innocence of a human child. Angels weren't born to kill or be dicks. They were raised to," Sam reasoned.

"And who's to say that Sophia isn't going to raise him to be just like her?" Dean argued.

Sam fell silent. He knew what his brother said was beginning to make sense. But reservation still gnawed at him when it came to the kid. "Either way, we all made the decision to let Zara go. Together," Sam recalled.

"Yeah, we probably shouldn't have," Dean muttered sombrely. The sound of Dean's cell ringing cut their conversation short. "Bobby?" Dean answered.

" _We have a situation here."_

Dean put the phone on speaker. "What kind of a situation?"

" _You're gonna have to hear it for yourselves. When can you get back?"_

"We're on our way to Sioux Falls right now," Sam replied. "We'll be there by sunrise."

" _Alright. I've gotta warn you. Things are looking bad. Get here as soon as you can,"_ Bobby cut the call.

"Okay, that sounded weird," Dean commented, staring at the phone screen. "We better hurry then."

 _ **Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 15 July 2011, 7.03am**_

The boys settled at the table with Bobby, warm cups of coffee before them to keep them going. "What's the sitch?" Sam finally asked, when he began to feel that familiar rush of energy from his mandatory caffeine boost.

"Crowley dropped in last night," Bobby began. "Bad news, boys."

"The blade…" Dean guessed. They had found the weapons of Heaven as promised and given the fate-killing blade to Crowley to kill Sophia. It was a desperate decision, but they'd hoped it would bear fruit. "It didn't work?"

"Worse." Bobby kept his gaze fixed on the table. "I don't know how… but Lucifer's free again."

A wave of resignation washed over them. Despite their best efforts at finding the weapons, they still couldn't prevent this from happening. "Great. Just… great," Dean said dryly.

"How did this happen?" Sam still couldn't believe it. He didn't want to. After his time in the cage, he wasn't sure if he'd be ready to face Lucifer again. He still felt scarred and traumatized by it.

"I don't know, but Crowley seemed pretty sure of it," Bobby sighed.

"Are we sure he's telling the truth?" Sam pressed. "What if he's just lying to get away with the weapon?"

"I assure you, that's not the case," the familiar British voice said. Crowley set the blade gently down on the table.

"Dammit, Crowley, you had one job!" Dean exclaimed.

"I swear, it's not my fault. I had this whole plan worked out," Crowley raised his arms in surrender. "I was going to hit up my old buddies in Hell, gather an army, and confront her at the address Moose gave me."

"And?" Dean probed.

"And it tanked! My own friends turned against me!" Crowley shook his head in disappointment. Dean simply rolled his eyes, as if this explanation was supposed to console them. "But I didn't give up, I'll have you know. I went to that damn house myself and guess what I found. Nada. No one was home."

"Maybe she and the kid went out for ice cream," Dean suggested, trying little to hide the edge in his voice.

"I waited. Believe me, I did. In those pleasantly-trimmed Dahlia bushes I did wait. And guess what I found," Crowley paused for dramatic effect.

"We don't have all day," Bobby snapped.

"Someone did show up eventually. It was _Lucifer_. In another vessel!" Crowley sounded exasperated. "I couldn't believe it."

"Did you try stabbing him with the blade?" Dean asked. They had to explore all possible options, he thought.

"And what, get killed? No thanks," Crowley retorted.

"We were too late, then," Sam concluded. "Sophia got him out before we could do anything."

"If it's any consolation," Crowley began. "I don't think this was Sophia."

"What?" Dean and Bobby asked simultaneously. "Of course it was her," Bobby insisted. "This was her plan all along!"

"Eh," Crowley made a gesture with his head to indicate that he was unsure of that claim. "You should have seen him. He looked kinda sad, actually. Not what you'd expect from someone who's going to destroy the world with his girl and kid."

"Yeah, like you're the expert on the Devil's emotions," Dean replied.

"Well, excuse _me_ for bearing good news," he shot back with a snarky tone.

"How is this good news?" Sam gave him a quizzical expression.

"He's weak. Vulnerable. Gives us more of a chance of defeating him." Crowley's lips turned up on one side. "There is one more thing. Lucifer hasn't returned to Hell yet. He's still hunting for vessels. In fact, it doesn't seem like the demons are even aware that their Dark Prince has returned."

"It's just a matter of time," Bobby reasoned.

"Probably. I don't know about you gents, but I think something's going on that we don't know about. I'm placing my bets on the two of them having issues," Crowley speculated, remembering his past encounters with Sophia.

"Good for them," Dean managed a sarcastic reply. He didn't care for the relationship problems of archangels. "We need to find out what they're planning and put a stop to it. Are you gonna help us or not?"

"Of course. I want Satan back in his cage as much as you do," Crowley assured them. "I'll see what I can find. You boys be sure to keep those Heavenly weapons safe. God knows we may need them." With that, he vanished.

* * *

(Zara's POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 18 July 2011, 10.24am**_

This felt so weird. Shopping for clothes, buying shoes, getting food – it was all so… normal. And somehow it felt refreshing. Zara never fully appreciated the beauty of the normal human drive to attain sustenance. There was something subtly beautiful about walking from store to store just to get the means by which she would live a new day. Working the daily grind of a stressful job and education really took away the enjoyment from her life. _Some things you had to lose to understand the value of_ , she mused as she trailed down the street full of stores. But in her mind she wasn't complaining. In this moment, she had no boring job to worry about, no aspirations or concerns about the future to burden her. She was living for this moment and the next, unsure of how long she'd survive. There was something liberating in that which she could not find in her past life. For that reason alone, she knew she had to be grateful to Lucifer.

That whole day, she simply walked and walked all across town, finding mystery and wonder in every corner she turned. It wasn't like there was anything to do once she got back to the apartment either, other than wait for Nick to get back. This gave her a lot of time to think. More time than she wanted. When the day lazily shifted into the afternoon and she'd had her lunch, grief crept back up on her like a tiger stalking its prey. She could not control the feeling of fatigue plaguing her mind and soul. Though she knew why she was sad, she could not escape the loop of bad thoughts circling in her head. She sat on a park bench. Her mind was fixated on a dilemma of who she actually was and what she was becoming. Only now, she didn't have any tears left to shed. Then she became tired of sitting and wandered about instead, her shopping bags still in her hand.

Her eyes blankly stared at buildings, lamp posts and windows while her legs took her to wherever. Everything was just moving images to her and soon she didn't even realize that her legs were moving. And then, just like before, she felt awakened in a place she didn't remember getting to. This time, she was leaning against a fence in an empty parking lot, facing a young man in the distance who was wearing a large hoodie in a part of town that didn't seem like it was safe. Her heart beat faster as she realized that she was going into dazes more often than she would have liked and it could potentially be a problem. She checked the time on her phone. It was 5.42pm. _What? It was just 2-something?_ her mind voice panicked. She had lost time again.

Zara looked over to the hoodie-sporting teenager. Someone dressed in comparatively normal clothing appeared and approached the guy. She understood what was going on. Drugs were involved. Why had she ended up here? Was it a subconscious thing? She remembered a time in her youth when she'd ventured too far from safe territory and discovered drugs. She didn't always make the right choices and she'd had some tough times. She could have even gotten hurt were it not for someone who she'd trusted to take care of her. That someone… he was someone who had a special place in her heart but she resisted the thought – she didn't want to remember him. She didn't want to remember any of her past life. She'd chosen to get away from it when she ran away from home to study in a university in South Dakota. Forgetting everyone she'd known back home, even the one person she admitted to caring about, was the only way she knew how to move on.

Her phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was Nick. "Hey," she picked up the call.

" _Where are you?"_

"I'm still out. But I'm done with the shopping," she replied.

" _So I'll see you at home?"_

Zara closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of the nose. She felt a little embarrassed. "About that… I don't know where I am. Can you… come get me?" she requested.

She found a street name and within half an hour, just as the sky began to darken, she was reassured by the sight of his familiar face. "I can explain," she began with a shy grin. "I… didn't know where I was going."

"And then you kept walking?" he pressed with a puzzled expression, though he wasn't actually upset by this long detour. He took some of her bags off her hands to lessen her load. They strode together down the dimly-lit street, a slow pace set for conversation.

"Remember when you said you went into a really long daze? I think it's beginning to happen to me," she confessed. "I don't even remember getting here."

"Don't worry," he said.

"Too late."

"It'll get better over time," he reassured her. "Hopefully."

They strolled silently. A single car whizzed by. "So… are we gonna talk about it?" Zara broke the silence.

"I still don't have an answer for you," he simply stated.

"What's going through your mind when you think about it?" she probed.

"I don't know…" he stroked his chin with a free hand as he stared away into the distance. "It feels complicated."

Zara sighed. He wasn't giving her anything to work with. "Tell me why it's complicated. And don't think you can deflect my questions."

That made him chuckle. She's catching on, he thought. He was forming the words in his head when her muffled squeal caught his attention. He jerked to face her and when he did, he dropped the bags he was holding onto the floor immediately.

"Wallet and phone. Give it to me now or the girl gets it," a man threatened, knife pressed against Zara's throat.

In that instant, Zara saw something remarkable. She saw Nick's gaze harden as he stared straight at the robber. His shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. The robber grew impatient at his deadly silence. "Hurry it up!" he demanded. Zara felt a sting and then a burning hot sensation as the knife made a small incision on her throat, drawing blood. Nick's eyes fixated on that single rivulet of blood. He felt a madness build up inside of him like nothing before. He felt like he was reliving that fateful moment that had changed his life forever. He saw in Zara his dead wife and the robber was like the murderer who took her away from him. _Never again,_ he thought. Zara saw the darkness that lurked beneath his gaze and she was curious what he would do. She wasn't so much concerned about her own fate, though it would be nice not to be handled so roughly by this petty thief.

Her eyes caught his and she signalled with them cautiously. Giving him a short nod, she elbowed the man in the rib, causing him to yelp in pain. Moving as quickly as he'd taught himself to, Nick drew out a switchblade from his pocket and stabbed the guy's arm before he could drive the knife deeper into Zara's throat. Groaning in pain, the robber dropped the blade, allowing Zara to get away from him. She watched as Nick stabbed the man again in the gut and then threw punches at him as he tried to fight back. It was a fury she had never witnessed before in anyone. Finally, Nick slit the guy's throat like it was nothing and the light went out of his eyes. When Nick finally let go, the robber sank to the ground slowly, his back slumping against the nearest building. Blood spots stained his shirt and grew in radius as Nick gathered up the bags and handed some back to her. Zara simply stared at the dead man, still surprised by what she had witnessed. She didn't expect to see someone die that day. That sort of thing still needed some getting used to. But she wasn't afraid or upset. It was just another sight that she realized would become a part of her life.

"You're bleeding," he observed.

Zara touched a hand to her neck and found her fingers stained red as she pulled away. The gash on her neck was slightly bigger than the incision made earlier, but it still wasn't too bad. "I'll live," she declared. She took out a folded handkerchief and pressed it to the wound to stop the bleeding.

As they began walking away, Nick wondered if what he did disturbed her. He didn't really know how she took to this stuff. He hadn't asked. "I got a bit carried away," he explained.

"I know," she acknowledged. She opened up some of her bags and glanced at their contents briefly. "I just hope there isn't any blood on the clothes."

Another chuckle escaped Nick's lips. That was more than he'd laughed in months. "I swear I wasn't deflecting _that_ time," Nick said, feeling his anger dissipate as soon as it came.

"Whatever," Zara shook her head, a smile brightening her face despite almost having her life taken. At this point, she couldn't care less about whether the earth stopped spinning. It made her almost… nonchalant. "Tell me when you want to," she relented. Her eyes drifted back to the dead body. "So… are we gonna hide that one too?"

Nick shrugged. "This is a bad neighbourhood anyway. No one's gonna suspect a thing."

They continued their journey, observing the change in the hues of the night sky and the brush of the cool evening breeze against them. It was the small things like that they'd both learnt to enjoy in every moment. For two people like that, silence is not the end of a conversation but rather the beginning of a wordless one. They simply enjoyed each other's presence. The back of their hands lightly grazed as they walked alongside each other, the light caress being more than comforting. Soon, they entered the warm interior of the apartment.

Nick gazed at Zara as she went through the bags once more and decided what to put on after a shower. He didn't want to keep her waiting. It wasn't that he had anything against her bid. After everything he'd been through the past year to keep himself alive, he was finally beginning to see something to live for. He had a slow-paced life. It was comfortable and didn't require much of him. Though the past still weighed down on him, he was finally adjusting to a mode of living that made him _feel_ alive. Sometimes he'd walk around town aimlessly after work. Sometimes he'd go up to the river banks and watch the muddy water as it coursed. This was something he could get used to. And now that Zara was here, he felt something different. He was fascinated by her. There was just something about her that intrigued him.

These thoughts consumed him as he saw her briskly walking off to shower before he could talk to her about it. He ambushed her as soon as she got out of the shower. She was still wrapped in a towel when he began talking. "It's not that I don't want to," he said, as she began to look for the clothes she had just bought. "There's just something stopping me." She simply walked out of the bedroom, remembering that she had mistakenly left the clothes on the couch.

"Yeah, what's that?" she asked as he trailed behind her.

"Have you ever done absolutely… nothing? Nothing of value. Just for the sake of it."

She began rummaging through the bags, now growing impatient. She wasn't sure where this was going and she just wished that he had a straight answer for her. "Yeah…"

"It makes life a little bit easier to live," he continued. She began to walk away again, intending to put on some clothes. "I'm not sure I wanna give that up so… quickly to become a vessel again."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "So… you just want time?"

"Yes," he answered firmly.

"I don't know if Lucifer has time," she rebutted.

"Who cares?"

"You're not the one who'll have to deal with him," she replied, dead serious. "Then I won't be talking to you like this. It'll only be him."

"Do you want that?" he probed.

"Well I…" she trailed off. "It's not up to me," she deflected. This conversation was going places she was uncomfortable with.

"Doesn't matter. Tell me," he implored.

She breathed deeply, considering what to answer. She did like him. She did like what he had to say and his perspective on life. She liked being with him. But what was happening with Lucifer and Sophia was greater than the both of them. Zara gulped, upset by the fact that she was put in this position. She decided to ignore him. Turning on her heels, she tried to hurry away from him into the room to change. Instantly, he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall, holding her just like he had when they'd met a few days back. His left hand, clamped over her mouth again like it had before, muffled her panicked squeal. Her heart raced, slightly alarmed by his brashness though she guessed that he meant her no harm.

His grip on her eased slowly, though he still had her cornered against the wall. His hand shifted from her mouth, giving her the chance to talk. She let out an exhale, taken by surprise at that manoeuvre. That rush that she got from his force was something that would have excited her younger self. And maybe she still felt that way. "You said you picked targets who no one cares about. Would that make me a target?" she asked. Her words indicated worry but her eyes said something else, brewing an air of thirst between them.

He paused, his finger tracing her lips and chin. "No. I care about you," he answered. She said nothing, simply observing him with an affectionate gaze. She wanted so bad to be able to reciprocate this feeling between them that she didn't even care whether he really meant what he said. "All I'm asking for is to have some time to spend living my life before I give it all away to Lucifer. And I want you here with me."

Heat rose between them, their faces remaining in such close proximity. His eyes scanned her expression. Finally, she nodded and said, "Okay."

Her hands were placed flat against his chest as she traced them up to his shoulders and neck. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her by the waist and pulled her closer to him, closing the space between their lips. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against the wall with his body, showering her with kisses, moving from her lips to her cheeks to her neck. Just like that, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Somewhere along the way her towel fell off. She hurried to unbutton his shirt as his lips refused to depart from her skin. In no time, they found each other in their familiar embrace, moving and rubbing against each other in a steady rhythm.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 22 July 2011, 10.20am (After the events of Repo Man)**_

"Sam. Sam? _Saaaaam…_ " 'Lucifer' went on inside Sam's head. It was going on non-stop for the last few days. The hallucinations had gotten worse now that there was no physical pain in his body to remind him what reality felt like. Try as he might, Sam just couldn't shut his voice out. And the news that Lucifer was in fact out and roaming free did nothing but make the tremors worse. He'd become more paranoid, unsure of whether it was the real Lucifer he was seeing or the remnants from the Cage. He'd barely held it together in the last case. And man, what a freaky case it was – a guy who wanted so bad for a demon to possess him that he became a serial killer.

Weariness tugged on Sam's eyelids. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to fall asleep. 'Lucifer' was there when he opened his eyes and the cage appeared when he closed his eyes – there was no escape. His hands encircled a coffee mug, feeling its warmth emanating. He was nodding off, items moving in and out of vision as his body threatened to give into fatigue. Meanwhile, Dean was recounting the case details to Bobby, remarking on the absurdity of it all.

"Chin up, buttercup," a British voice greeted. Sam flinched at the sound. He looked to Dean and Bobby, whose faces were fixed in a frown in expectation.

"You have news?" Bobby asked, getting straight to the point.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And it's good," Crowley began. "Lucifer's MIA. And no one's even realised."

"Sounds sketchy," Dean remarked.

"That's what I thought. But what's sketchier is that no one's heard from Sophia either. She's losing support." Crowley gave them an excited grin.

"Of course you're happy about all this," Bobby said, still uncomfortable with the mysterious absence of two of the most powerful beings in existence.

"You should too! Guess who's King again." Crowley didn't wait for a reply. "Yours truly, of course."

"This can't be all there is to it," Sam chimed in. "What are they planning?"

"Sam, such a worrier. No one in Hell knows where they are and I've managed to get the throne back. Do you think the two of them would be planning something if they _let_ Hell slip from their hands? Hmm?" His eyes beckoned them to challenge him.

"Then that leaves us at square one," Dean pulled out his demon-killing blade.

"Dean," Bobby rested a hand on Dean's arm.

Dean's head tilted towards Bobby. "Demons are still demons. And you didn't live up to your end of the deal," he said to Crowley, the case they just worked still clear in his mind. If anything, it had just reminded him of how dangerous and unsettling demons could be. Even if Crowley had been their ally at times, it didn't excuse the fact that he would let the demons run free now that he was King.

"Dean, you squirrel," Crowley snapped, catching Dean by surprise. "We're still on the same team. Just in case they decide to come back, we're going to need to fight them. Together. With those weapons." Dean didn't seem convinced by that. "Fine, I'll issue a stand-down order. No more demons you need to worry about."

"Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it, Sam?" 'Lucifer' interjected. "Rough him up, see what he really wants!"

Dean put away the blade. "Alright. Just find the archangels quickly so that we can go back to killing each other."

"Wouldn't want it any other way," Crowley agreed, before taking off.


	44. The Born-Again Identity

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter begins after Sam finally loses it and admits himself into Northern Indiana State Hospital. The reason why I skip some chunks in the Winchester story-line is because some of it is the same as what happens in the canonical timeline. The parts that I write are usually ones that are slightly changed in this timeline so whenever I do skip some parts I'll let you guys know. I'm even considering having a "Previously On…" section so that you guys won't get lost in the many interconnecting plots. Cheers :)

 **Chapter 44: The Born-Again Identity**

(Dean POV)

 **Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 25 July 2011, 12.12pm**

 _There has to be something._ Dean flipped through the journal. He couldn't just leave Sam in a mental hospital. He was desperate to find help or a cure or _something_. For a moment, his mind wandered to the time when he and Bobby had trapped Sophia. She had said that she and Lucifer could cure Sam. Dean banished that thought as quickly as it arose. There was no way Sophia would agree to it and now that Lucifer was out, summoning her could be really dangerous. All that he had left to do was call John's old contacts and see if he could find something. Bobby was doing what he could back in Sioux Falls and looking for leads himself. He slowly paced about the room, holding the phone to his chin as he thought about what to do if they couldn't find anything. He could barely eat anything, the thought of his brother having a psychotic episode _and_ Lucifer being free in the world weighing down on him.

"Find anything?" Bobby asked as he settled at his table with one of his journals.

"A whole lot of nothing," Dean answered, voice filled with hopelessness. So far every contact he'd spoke to was utterly useless and offered nothing but fluster in response. There was only one real option, he realised, though he knew it was a terrible one. "Bobby… we could try calling… _her_ ," he stammered.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Bobby snapped. "You ain't signing up to be an archangel's bitch."

"But you heard her. She said that Lucifer can fix it," he implored.

"So what? You wanna ask Sam to say 'yes' to Lucifer? How do you think that's gonna work out?" the older man frowned so deeply new lines could have formed on his face.

"Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way. We could get Lucifer to fix Sam and when the job's done, we get him out and back into the cage," Dean posited.

"And how exactly are we gonna do that?"

"I don't know!" Dean shot back. "I don't know, Bobby. But it's better than just sitting on our asses here. There has to be _something_!"

"I know it's messing with you, kid. But that don't mean we involve the damn Devil!" Bobby tried to talk some sense into him. "We'll just keep digging till we find something."

Dean sighed as Bobby made another phone call. Dean simply sat and closed his eyes, running his thumbs in circles around his temples. He tuned out of his surroundings, letting his mind wander to those unhealthy thoughts that played over in his mind – a terrible habit that he had. He didn't know what he would do if this was it for Sam. Every instinct told him that it would be better to let his brother die than let Satan possess him again. But he couldn't envision a life without his brother – he'd tried that once but let that picket-fence life go because he got his brother back. Now it wasn't easy to think of doing the same, even if that's what Sam would have wanted. Was this really happening? Was it a real possibility that he would never get his brother back again? There was a sinking feeling in his chest that he wanted to assuage with alcohol.

"Dean, I got something," Bobby finally said, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "Some kind of faith healer named Emmanuel in Colorado."

"The last faith healer we saw-" Dean began.

"Used a reaper. I know. But my friend, Mackey, here thinks it's the real deal and from the way it sounds… looks like it's worth a shot," Bobby reasoned. "You wanted something. This is it."

"Alright," he relented, scrunching up his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. He got up, purposed. "I'll check it out. In the meantime, you can try digging up something on the archangels."

"Already on it," Bobby reassured him.

* * *

(Lucifer POV)

 _ **Somewhere on Earth – 25 July 2011**_

The skin withered away like a piece of paper held over a flame. Another burnt-out vessel. Another quest to find a human vulnerable enough to say 'yes'. This was frustrating. No, it was infuriating. But was it really the vessel situation that made him mad? A whirlwind of emotions was going through his mind. Lucifer didn't know what exactly to feel. Freedom was refreshing. If he had to see that damn cage again, he'd explode the earth the first chance he got, he thought. The obligatory God-hating rant made its round. Then came Sophia. What had she done? What had happened? She was the only one in the whole universe who could put him at ease in this tumultuous moment and she'd just left without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. A good explanation, at least. _Our son is dead_ , she had said. But no, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It didn't make any sense. He wanted the _truth._ The fact that she'd lied to him right to his face… it really bothered him. She was the one person he could count on. She'd always been there in his lowest points, holding him in her arms and now she was… gone. Without a trace. It wasn't fair. What was he supposed to do now? Without a physical body to contain him and a shoulder to lean on, he felt utterly and completely alone. And it upset him.

Dejected, he floated in the upper atmosphere, contemplating his next move. From here, he could see the sun's rays above the clouds, casting a yellow glow on them. He wanted to punch something – punch it, stab it, impale it with his arms, pull out its slimy guts, kill it. The impulse to destroy grew stronger and stronger. It was in moments like these he'd held onto the thought of Sophia to soothe him. Her calm demeanour, her everlasting love for him, her graceful way with things, her intellect – these were the things about her that reminded of who he used to be and what it felt like not to be an utter monster. That almost made him chuckle. The humans had a term for a thing like him – a beast. But they didn't know what a beast truly was. Sophia knew. Sophia saw it in him and she managed to help him keep a hold on reality and train a little bit of restraint. Without her there, he didn't know what he would become.

Sometimes he was amazed at how well she held it together despite all that they'd been through. She had always been the sane one, he thought. Even then, it had been hard to know her. The months in which they had been reunited was evidence enough. She became incredibly distant. Though she pretended like she was alright – and she was really good at this – there was something underneath all that which must have really affected her. It bothered him that she never talked about her time in the vault. After all she'd done for him, he just wanted to return the favour and take care of her. Wasn't that why he built a kingdom in Hell? Why he built her a house in the middle of nowhere? These were all expressions of his love for her, yet every time he thought about them, all he saw was how she never fully appreciated them. And he didn't blame her. She was such a burdened individual that it was hard to know what she needed from him. Again, that gnawed at him.

It used to be a feeling of sympathy and a need to hold her and let her spill her emotions. But now he realised that that was never going to happen. She just wanted to push him away. Did she ever really love him? If she did, why would she just abandon him like this? Lucifer hated feeling this pain. This pain of never knowing what someone you love wanted from you, feeling like they stopped loving you. It made him angry. All the love he once harboured was now slowly turning into rage. What was that saying humans had? _Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned._ But he didn't want to give up just yet. If he could just find her, if he could just have the chance to talk to her, slap some sense into her and make her tell him what was going on…

Where was their son? He wasn't dead, he knew as much. Call it parent's intuition, but it was a strong conviction nonetheless. He'd never even gotten so much as a glimpse of his son and a throbbing ache in his chest arose every time he thought about it. All he ever got from Sophia was a name – Luciel. _He has your eyes,_ she'd said. That was all he'd held onto in the cage. This wonderful thing that was an extension of him, the fruit of his lust, the only pure thing to come from him – his child. He wouldn't rest until he found out what happened. When he thought about the last time he'd seen Sophia, all he could think was that she was keeping their son from him. It didn't make sense to him why she would do that or why she was so hysterical and this was maddening to say the least. It was driving him insane. More insane, that is.

Restlessly, he scoured the earth for her. It took a while. And when he thought he'd covered every location he could find, he did it again. Lucifer wasn't sure how many times he had been looking into every crevice and every cave for her. He didn't even notice how much time had passed. He just kept looking. And one day it dawned on him that she loved space just as much as she loved earth, the imperfections of every planet and every star presenting a unique mystery to her. He released a great sigh, probably spawning a forceful storm in the process by the sheer force of his breath in this unbound celestial form. How long would it take to search the whole universe? Probably a long time. Longer than he would want. But he had to try nonetheless.

What of earth and hell, then? Earth had it coming. And humans must suffer for his anguish. That had always been the plan and it wasn't going to change. However, his plans had to be held off. Finding Sophia and his son was his top priority now and it was a personal matter that he had to attend to. The earth would still be here and humans would still be alive, awaiting his return and to be roasted by him for all eternity. Hell, on the other hand, was an easier matter. The throne was always his to claim. He'd invented the damn thing. Nothing was lost if he were to be absent for a while. His creations would kneel before him like they always did, he was sure.

With a heavy heart, he set off on a little space exploration trip.

* * *

(Dean POV)

 _ **Colorado – 25 July 2011, 5.32pm**_

The Impala pulled up in front of a dainty-looking house in the Colorado suburbs. This was the address Bobby's friend gave them. Hoping desperately that this was a solid lead, Dean walked up the stairs to the front porch. Clad in a grey jacket, his knuckles rapped on the wooden door. His heart raced as the door opened, revealing a man wearing a cardigan and a blue shirt underneath. So far so good, he thought. The man looked like one of those Jesus-loving types. "Hi, uh, is this, uh, Daphne Allen's house? I'm looking for Emmanuel," Dean stammered.

"Well, you found him. Daphne's resting. If you don't mind," the man answered as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Dean took a step back. He gathered his words, wondering how to tell this man that his brother had been through literal Hell and was now having his gourd cracked open by Satan himself. "Um… So, I was hoping, uh…" he began as his eyes wandered. That's when a movement caught his attention. His apple-green eyes bore through a gap in the curtains and rested on a struggling figure. It was a woman in a purple shirt, tied up to a chair inside the house. Her eyes found his through the window and he saw in them a cry for help. _This isn't right…_

The man blinked, revealing his black sclerae. Demon. Without warning, the demon grabbed Dean by his shirt and flung him back against the door, cracking the glass embedded in the wood. Dean stood shocked, clearly not expecting to find a demon in this opportune moment. "You were saying, Dean?" the demon probed, a malicious grin on his face.

"You know, I'd think twice. Or don't you know that your boss issued a hands-off memo?" Dean desperately bargained, his jaw clenching.

"Oh, please." The demon simply gave him a chesty laugh, snapping his eyes back to their normal human colour. "What have you done for him lately? Sophia's head on a plate? No? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley's gonna want him – a lot more than he wants you these days. So..."

The demon charged towards him. Dean's hands moved quickly, instinctively, driving the demon-killing blade through his gut. With a bright flash through the eyes, the demon cried out in pain as he died. Finally, Dean pulled out the bloodied blade and shoved the bastard backwards, causing him to fall down the stairs and land right at someone's feet. Dean slowly stepped forward, his eyes scanning upwards from the man's feet… to his face. His breath stopped as he recognised the face before him. The blue eyes regarded the dead man at his feet with shock for a second, before drifting upwards to meet the green eyes of the man who had caused it. "What was that?" the man with the curious blue gaze asked.

Dean found himself unable to speak. It was Castiel. Only Cas didn't seem to know him. Dean hesitantly pointed a thumb backwards to the door, gesturing for him to follow him into the house. Castiel, realising that Daphne could have been in danger, rushed in, untying her. "Did that creature hurt you?" he asked her.

"I'm okay. But, Emmanuel... They were looking for you," she replied worriedly.

"It's okay," he reassured her. He then turned to Dean, who was studying their dynamic curiously. Holding Daphne's hand, he approached Dean. "I'm Emmanuel." He held out his hand.

Dean stared blankly for a moment, before reacting. "Dean… I'm Dean," he returned the handshake.

"Thank you for protecting my wife," Castiel said with the sincerest gaze.

"Your wife, right," Dean nodded, playing along.

Unsettled, Castiel turned to Daphne. "I saw his face." His concerned eyes looked back at Dean. "His _real_ face." He seemed petrified.

"He was a demon," Dean acknowledged.

Castiel's eyes hovered to the ground in contemplation. "A demon walked the earth…"

Dean blinked a few times, shocked by his cluelessness. "De _mons_. Whackloads of them. You don't know about…?" He paused when he saw Castiel's confused expression, unsure of how much more to say. _He really doesn't remember…_

"You saw the demon's true face," Daphne chimed in, awed by her husband. Her light green eyes turned to Dean's. "Emmanuel has… very special gifts."

"Yeah. I-I've heard that about... Emmanuel. That you can heal people up," Dean continued, treading carefully with his words.

"I seem to be able to help to a certain degree," he admitted. "What's your issue?"

 _So this is how it's gonna be, huh? Guess I'll have to play along._ "My brother."

 _ **The Impala – 25 July 2011, 7.43pm**_

The constant rumble of the Impala's engine was a warm comfort during the cold, rainy night on the road to Northern Indiana State Hospital. Dean had so many questions. For the most part, he was still in shock to see Castiel alive and well. Mostly, that is. The guy was still missing his memory. But this is good news, he told himself. It was a step in the right direction. His once-friend, the one who broke bad to open Purgatory, was alive. "So, Daphne – is that, uh, your wife?" Dean finally broke the silence.

"She found me and cared for me," the amnesiac angel replied.

"Meaning?" Dean probed.

"Oh, it's a... strange story. You may not like it." Castiel shook his head, trying to dismiss the topic.

"Believe me, I will," Dean reassured him.

Briefly glancing at Dean to make sure he was sincere, he began his story. "A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and... unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me."

"So who named you Emmanuel?"

"Bouncybabynamesdotcom," Castiel replied earnestly.

Dean paused, slightly amused. "Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are."

"Well, it's my life. And it's a good life," he simply said.

"Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know...bad guy?"

"Oh, I... don't feel like a bad person." They exchanged a brief look and then silence fell between them again. "So your brother," Castiel began.

"Sam," Dean informed him.

"Sam. What's his diagnosis?" The two men stared straight ahead at the road before them.

"Well, it's not exactly medical."

"That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin."

"Spiritual? Okay." Dean nodded. "Someone did this to him," Dean confessed after a brief pause, contemplating how much to tell 'Emmanuel'.

Castiel studied the Winchester, sensing his tone. "You're angry," he concluded.

"Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head," Dean explained.

"He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?" Castiel inferred.

Dean noted the authenticity in his voice. It was still weird to him, talking about the guy he was talking to like he was someone else. But Castiel had to know somehow what it meant to him that his brother was suffering like this. "Yeah, well, he's gone."

"Did you kill him?" Dean was caught by surprise at that question. "I sense that you kill a lot of people," 'Emmanuel' stated boldly.

"Honestly, I-I-I don't know if he is dead," he confessed. With half a heart to shake Castiel's shoulders and make him remember, Dean simply spoke honestly about what was on his mind. "I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why."

"Well, it doesn't matter why."

"Of course it matters why," Dean shot back.

"No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human." Castiel thought back to what he said. "Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name."

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 25 July 2011, 3.11pm**_

Zara went from shop to shop and then to diners and to bars. She roamed the streets, keeping an eye out for "Now Hiring" signs. This was the decision she'd come to. Nick asked for a month and she felt compelled to oblige. So she would be responsible and get a job in the meantime to pass the days. It wasn't all that easy, though. She had no identification on her or any provable qualifications – she had just up and left from her apartment that fateful night that Lucifer had found her. She didn't even have her own phone with her. All she had was the one Sophia had gotten and it had all her angel contacts on it. For a moment, Zara did contemplate contacting them for support or something but she quickly erased that thought. She didn't know how they would take to her and her quest to find Lucifer a vessel. Sophia also hadn't mentioned anything about the great ordeal she'd just been through to them so Zara would have to keep this a secret. It just seemed like what Sophia wanted. So she used a burner phone instead, keeping Sophia's one turned off for the time being.

Grounded to earth though she was, she still felt herself yearning for the return of her archangel, the one who'd shown her a whole new world of possibilities and expected nothing but loyalty in return. It seemed like such a simple trade-off, to give yourself up for the chance to see such amazing things. How could you want anything less, especially a normal human life, after witnessing the divine? She didn't have much of faith before, but now she did and she was rooting for the dark side, though she was still naïve about it all. Sighing, she continued walking down the street, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.

Nick had given her a list of places to go to where she could get fake IDs and documents. It was nothing for getting a high-end job, but she wasn't looking for something long-term or proper. It would help get her started. Now she had her fake ID, with a new alias – Sarah Parker. A simple enough name that wouldn't attract any attention. _Who would Sarah Parker be?_ she wondered, as she began to build up a normal history to this new alias in case anyone asked. A simple girl from Ohio who liked moving around, perhaps.

That day, she went to a few places and got details of simple jobs she could get like waiting tables. She came away from every one with a heavy sigh, wondering how long it would take to kill herself working these jobs and talking to people all the time. Evidently, she wasn't a "people-person". She'd started that day determined to get a job and thinking it would be easy. All she was left with by mid-afternoon was another existential crisis. _I need a drink_ , she thought as she wandered into a pub. It was almost empty with the exception of a few men playing pool and some people casually lounging about on the tables. Her arms found their way to the top of the counter as she scanned the shelf full of bottles of varying shapes and sizes.

The bartender, a man who looked to be in his thirties, was bearded and had dark hair, surveyed her as she investigated the bottles in front of her. "Spoilt for choice?" he said, initiating conversation.

Realising that she probably looked strange doing that, she gave him a shy smile. "I'll just have a beer, thanks," she responded.

"Coming right up," he paced about, getting a cup and filling it with her drink. "You don't look like you're from around here," he remarked as he placed the cup in front of her. "And I'm not just saying that because of your… appearance." Droplets of condensation enveloped the outside of the cup and the scent of the earthy beer wafted in the air.

"Oh uh… no worries," she suddenly became self-conscious of her light olive skin and ethnic features. "Um yeah, I'm from Ohio and I just moved here."

"That seems like an odd choice," the burly bartender began wiping an area of the counter. He flipped the rag over his shoulder, satisfied with the cleanliness of the area. "Most people move _to_ the big city."

"City life didn't really bode well for me," Zara confessed. "I'm more of a small-town person."

The bartender nodded, fixing his gaze on her. "Find a job?"

"About that… I'm still working on it. I'm just trying to find something I enjoy." A sudden hesitation gripped her after speaking that sentence. She wasn't sure she should've mentioned anything at all. Maybe she should have remained inconspicuous by lying about her employment status. Who knows what strangers could say to manipulate her?

"Well, what _do_ you enjoy?" he asked.

That question caught her off-guard. Hardly ever in her life did anyone ask her what _she_ would like. It really took her a minute to think about it. She gulped her drink in the meantime. She struggled to look over the memories of her life and find an answer there. When she was truly happy, without a worry in the world, what was she doing? "I like… singing. I don't know if that's gonna get me anywhere."

"It could get you up on that stage," he beckoned to the elevated platform behind her. It had a piano, some other instruments and a soundboard. She glanced at it briefly before turning back to him. "Go on, show me what you got."

"Oh I don't know," she shook her head, grinning.

"Come on, you know you want to," he encouraged. "If you can impress me, you got a job here. Night shifts on every other night and it pays well, I promise. People from all over town come here after work to relax and hang with the boys."

That certainly got her attention. Taking another gulp, she set the nearly-empty beer glass down and made her way to the stage. Though slightly buzzed, this only gave her more confidence. Picking up a stray acoustic guitar, she cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of all thoughts except those feeding her song lyrics. Then her lips opened and a melody escaped them. On that stage, she poured all her anguish into the mic, her voice taking on the shape of her emotional turbulence. Her eyes closed as she channelled herself through her vocal chords, almost effortlessly singing the first song that came to mind.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked expectantly around the room and saw only gaping mouths as everyone had paused to look at her. The brief silence began to feel like an eternity, but soon her anxiety was relieved by the sound of applause from the small group of people in the pub. The bartender himself said nothing, only staring at her with wide eyes. "God, you have the voice of an angel," he praised as she sat down again in front of him to finish her drink.

"I've been told," she responded.

"The job's yours, if you want it," he offered.

"When do I start?"

 _ **A few hours later…**_

Nick wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel as he rummaged through his locker to grab his belongings. He checked his phone. There was a missed call. It was Zara. "How'd it go?" he asked as he returned the call.

" _Come meet me at Golden Eagle's at 8pm,"_ she said with an excited tingle in her voice.

"Drinking on a Monday night? That bad, huh?" he inferred.

" _Just get over here, would you?"_ She was trying hard to mask the amusement in her voice. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he found out where she was going to work.

"…okay," he answered with uncertainty, unsure of how to interpret her message. As he prepared to leave, he overheard a group of guys who worked with him chatting. Normally, he wouldn't pay attention to these things but the mention of a very specific pub caught his attention.

"…Cecil says he's got a new singer," the thin, blond guy named Matt announced to the small group, referring to the owner of the pub.

"Yeah? That place could use someone to replace Angela," another guy remarked.

A collective sigh echoed from them. "Angela…" one guy said dreamily.

"From what he said, this one's better than Angela," Matt informed them.

"Better than Angela? I gotta see this."

"I could use a drink anyway."

Matt noticed Nick's blue eyes staring straight at them. "Hey, you wanna join us?" Matt offered.

"Uh…" Nick was caught off-guard. His instinctive response had always been to say 'no' to social gatherings though he had made reluctant exceptions to blend in and appear normal. This time, there was no escaping, especially since they were all headed the same way. He was uncomfortable, though, with the idea of talking to Zara while his co-workers were around. He'd preferred to keep his work life and personal life worlds apart, for obvious reasons.

"Nick, hang out with the boys for once!" someone coaxed.

"Yeah, man, we barely hear from you at all," another one chorused, eyeing him suspiciously.

Before the moment could get weirder, Nick relented. "Alright, fine," he accepted. He got roped into going to Golden Eagle's with people he'd rather stay miles away from, which was less than comfortable for him. _This better be worth it, Zara._

 _ **Golden Eagle's Pub, Clarksburg, West Virginia – 25 July 2011, 7.55pm**_

The men entered the pub with a cheery welcome from the other people they recognised. It was a small town and most people worked around this area so it was common for them to know the people they met here. The pub was strategically located that way. Nick scanned the room, finding it to be slightly more crowded than usual, with people lounging about at the booths and tables, drinking and chatting. The constant mumble in the background drowned out the noise of his thoughts as he looked around for Zara. She was nowhere to be found. Finding it strange, he got out his phone to call her. That was when she came into view.

Cecil, the richly-bearded bartender, got onto the stage and the crowd quietened down in anticipation. "Wow, thanks for showing up everyone. Didn't think you'd all get the invite soon enough," he spoke into the mic. Some encouraging comments were thrown from the crowd. "This is our first night with our new singer, Sarah Parker, so let's all give her a warm welcome." He beckoned to Zara as she came forward and went back to his position at the counter.

More encouraging cheers ensued as Zara approached the mic nervously. She was wearing a mid-thigh-length black dress. The soft fabric fell snugly on her chest and tightened around her waist before hanging loosely around her legs. The tune came on and she slipped into the song effortlessly, weaving the melody of a Lana del Rey song with her sensuous voice. Nick held his breath as he watched her, enraptured by her expressions of longing and melancholy. As the heart-wrenching chorus came on, her brown eyes found his icy blue ones at the back of the room, near the bar. Her gaze softened as an unspoken conversation was being written by their eye contact. His gaze, on the other hand, sharpened as he leant back against the counter, crossing his arms. She could almost feel him devouring her with his eyes across the room, giving her a rush of heat that only fed into her luscious performance.

As she moved onto another song, activity resumed in the pub though the consensus was that she was a great addition to the place, enlivening the atmosphere with her voice. "Damn," Matt said, turning to the others in the group. "How did Cecil find something that hot?"

"Bet you I could get her to sing to me like that while I'm smashing her," one guy with spiky dark hair smirked to the amusement of the others.

Nick couldn't supress a huff at Spiky Hair's smug remark.

"You got something to say, pal?" he taunted.

"Oh, it's nothing," Nick replied. "It's just that… I don't think you're her type."

"And you are?" the guy challenged, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Nick simply shrugged.

"I'm taking her home tonight, just you watch," Spiky Hair declared.

"Knock yourself out," he nodded.

Zara's shift lasted till 11pm, during which Nick had to endure a barrage of dirty comments about her by the men around him. He secretly planned ways to murder them, unimpressed by the calibre of their talk about her. He barely even knew her but he could tell that there was something beautiful in her. Just thinking about it made his heart flutter. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for anyone in a long time. It made him want to treat her well.

As the night went on, people came and people went. Zara took breaks occasionally but her voice lasted well enough to finish her shift on a soft and mellow tune. Her shift ended with a satisfied boss and great reception from the crowd. Thanking the crowd on the mic, her lips contorted into a demure grin. She retreated into a dark corner as Cecil praised her and paid her in cash, as she had requested. "Next shift's on Wednesday," he reminded her.

"Noted, boss," she gave him a two-finger salute.

"You know, I could use some help around here, if you're up for it. Girl like you could really _attract_ some customers, if you know what I mean," he suggested. "It's okay if you're uncomfortable."

"I'll think about it," she nodded, before cracking another warm smile. She stared at the notes in her hands, feeling accomplished. Zara stowed away the cash, excited to share with Nick details of her adventures at the end of a long day. Eagerly, she weaved through the crowd in search of him. The group of guys Nick came in with all stood around a table, turning to her as she came into their sights. Her eyes lit up as she spotted her man.

Spiky Hair perked up at the sight of her. "Showtime, boys," he announced. Zara smiled widely, revealing her dimples as she walked towards the lot of them. "Oh shit, she's coming here," he grew excited. The men eyed her up and down, their lustful gaze not sparing an inch of her. "Hey baby, what else can that mouth do?" Spiky Hair flirted.

She didn't even notice any of them, keeping a straight trajectory. Their smiles faded as she stopped in front of Nick. "Shall we go?" she asked.

"Woah, woah, hold up," Spiky Hair interrupted as they both turned to leave. "He didn't even try!"

Zara regarded them, noticing that they seemed to know Nick. "You didn't tell me you were bringing friends," she said to him.

"It was an unexpected development, really," he answered. "We all work at the same place."

"Oh, nice to meet you all, then," she gave them a short wave as they stared with gaping mouths at the turn of events. With that, the two of them took their leave, strolling leisurely home. "So… what did you think?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, it was nice. You were… you were great," his gaze shifted to the sky, noticing all the stars that came into view. "More than great, actually."

Zara smiled softly as her gaze shyly roved over the ground. "I'm glad you liked it. Looks like this will be my job for the next month."

* * *

(Dean POV)

 _ **Convenience store – 26 July 2011, 8.38am**_

Dean browsed through the aisles, looking for supplies for the remaining part of their trip. They'd stopped over briefly after a whole night of driving. He took out his flip-phone, wanting to check in with Bobby and let him know that Cas is alive. The sound of a door opening momentarily distracted him and he looked up at the convex mirror to see a man walking towards him at an unnatural speed. Instinctively, Dean brandished his knife and swung at the demon but it caught his arm and shoved him against the wall, causing shelves of items to clatter noisily onto the ground. As the demon charged him, he ducked and pushed the demon with his back into the refrigerator, shattering its glass door. Having knocked the demon off-balance, Dean stabbed him in the gut, killing him.

Taking a breath to regain his composure, Dean picked up his phone but he found that it was broken. "Oh, come on," he lamented.

As he walked to the next aisle, he froze in his step. Two more demons, black eyes displaying, awaited him. He sighed, disheartened, but then clenched his fist around the hilt of the knife and swung at one of the demons. They knocked the knife from his grip and pushed him backwards, causing him to fall, helpless. It seemed like this was it. They had him and there was nothing he could do to get away. That was when he saw a blade pierce the chest of a demon who was advancing on him. Seeing this, the other demon smoked out of his vessel, leaving another dead demon and Dean's saviour in front of him.

"Emmanuel, you son of a bitch," Dean heaved a sigh of relief as he groaned. The demon fell to the ground, revealing an unexpected character from his past. Her dark hair and sinister lips were immediately recognisable.

"Emmanuel. Yeah, not so much," she said, shaking her head.

"Meg," Dean greeted.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some 'splainin' to do."

Dean looked behind her, making sure she was alone, before he walked to the front of the store and pulled down the blinds.

Meanwhile, Meg initiated conversation. "Rumours are really starting to fly about this Emmanuel fellow. My curiosity sure got revved up," her smooth voice drawled, her slyness ever so apparent.

"Just tell me what you want, Meg," Dean cut straight to the point.

"Imagine my surprise when I track him down, and he's snuggled up with _you._ And he's the spitting image of poor, dead Castiel. So, Dean, what's poor, dead Castiel doing in that junker out there?" her eyes beckoned to the Impala.

"Christmas carolling."

"Fun. But how's he alive? Last I heard, he messed with the Queen of Hell, went poof."

"I don't know. And neither does he, so you got to keep it shut," Dean warned as he paced past her.

"Oh, I do?" she questioned, causing him to turn back to face her.

"He doesn't know he's Cas."

"I know. Been watching you for hours," she admitted. "So here's the deal. Sophia's ordered a hit on me. And even though she's gone… You might remember Crowley and me were frosty back in the day? Well, times haven't changed."

"Good," Dean stated.

"That hurts my feelings. I've been good to you, Dean," her voice lowered, taking on a firm tone.

"No, you've been good to _you,_ sweetheart." Dean turned to a shelf, picking out supplies and carrying them in his jacket.

"Look. Right now rumours of this wandering healer are strictly low-level. But body count's getting high enough to change that. Folks start poking, they sniff angel dust," she explained.

"Yeah, they start falling all over each other trying to tell Crowley." Dean remained nonchalant.

"Now picture Crowley with his hands on harmless little amnesia-Cas. Don't get me wrong. I'm gonna burn that smarmy dick. My time's coming. But right about now, my army-of-one situation is not cutting it. It's cold out here, there's a price on my ass, and I need friends."

"Yeah. I get that. But I ain't it." He got what he needed and turned to leave.

"That's where you're wrong, Dean. 'Cause I'm here to help you, and that makes us friends," she negotiated.

"Help, huh? You mean see if you can't turn harmless little Cas out there into an angel-sized weapon?" he snapped.

"Like you're taking him carolling. And by the way, you really want to keep going with no backup?" she beckoned towards the dead demons sprawled on the floor. "Hey, I don't trust you, either. But I could really use Emmanuel. And he trusts you. So for now, it's in everyone's best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?"

He straightened up, considering his options. It seemed reasonable enough. He leaned closer, speaking firmly. "We go straight to Sam. No detours," he declared.

"I love it."


	45. The Memories We Have

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 45: The Memories We Have**

 _Previously on Sophia's Chronicles…_

 _Sophia:_ _Your son is dead. Please don't ask me anything else._

 _Lucifer: Finding Sophia and my son is my top priority now. Time for a little little space exploration trip._

 _.._

 _Sophia: I need you to find Lucifer's old vessel and get him to say 'yes'._

 _Zara: You'd better come back. With answers._

 _.._

 _Nick: You need me to say 'yes' to Lucifer again?_

 _Zara: Yeah_

 _Nick: All I'm asking for is to have some time to spend living my life before I give it all away to Lucifer. And I want you here with me._

 _.._

 _Crowley: Guess who's King again._

 _Dean: Demons are still demons. And you didn't live up to your end of the deal._

 _Crowley: Dean, you squirrel. We're still on the same team. Just in case they decide to come back, we're going to need to fight them. Together. With those weapons… Fine, I'll issue a stand-down order. No more demons you need to worry about._

 _Dean: Alright. Just find the archangels quickly so that we can go back to killing each other._

 _.._

 _Sophia: Khaos practically wanted to hold me prisoner… After all, what would be more worth my skills than the pursuit of the truth behind what happened to my kid?_

 _Khaos: There is an age-old question at the centre of all that is and ever could be. And you are the answer to everything._

 _Sophia: This was a huge mistake._

 _.._

 _Dean: I don't know, Bobby. But it's better than just sitting on our asses here. There has to be something!_

 _Bobby: Some kind of faith healer named Emmanuel in Colorado…_ _You wanted something. This is it._

 _Dean: So who named you Emmanuel?_

 _Castiel: He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?_

 _Meg: So, Dean, what's poor, dead Castiel doing in that junker out there?_

 _Dean: We go straight to Sam. No detours._

 _.._

 _Now…_

(Dean POV)

 _ **Northern Indiana State Hospital, Logansport, Indiana – 26 July 2011, 7.54pm**_

"You're an angel," Meg blurted out. Dean rolled his eyes and looked to her. There were four demons blocking the entrance and Cas was the only one who could take them out. There was no time for Dean's hesitation.

"I'm sorry? Is that a flirtation?" the amnesiac angel was confused.

"No, it's a species. A very powerful one," she explained in her low, sly voice that always reminded Dean of a deceptive snake.

Dean sighed. It was time for the truth. "She's not lying. Okay? That's why you heal people. You don't eat. I'm sure there's more."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Castiel questioned. "Being an angel – it sounds pleasant."

"It's not, trust me. It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant," Dean answered, anxious about what Castiel might do upon hearing this.

"He would know," Meg added. "You used to fight together. Bestest friends, actually."

"We're... friends?" Castiel's gaze flickered tensely between the two of them. "Am I Cas? I-I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry."

"Look. You got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot," Meg stated plainly.

Castiel looked at the four demons, trying to envision how he might do that. Try as he might, nothing came to mind. "But I don't remember how," he said dejectedly.

Dean stepped forward, standing next to him. "It's in there. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike."

Castiel's blue eyes met his. "I don't know how to do that, either," he confessed. Dean sighed, pulling a hand down his chin. The angel took a deep breath. Chest filled with fear and uncertainty, he realized what he must do. "All right, I'll try." Dean nodded as Castiel strode headfirst into the group of demons.

"This ain't gonna go well," Dean remarked to Meg with a frown-riddled expression.

"I don't know. I believe in the little tree topper."

Step by step, 'Emmanuel' moved forward, feet treading on the damp gravel of the parking lot. The demons perked up at the whiff of angelic presence. The demon wearing a police uniform turned to him, shocked. "Hey, I know you. You're dead."

"Yes, I've heard," Castiel replied, grabbing the demon by his shirt. He was surprised at his own strength, observing how the demon swayed easily under his grasp. It was just a tingle at first, but he felt the light within him – the light from which he was created – waiting to be released. He put a hand to the demon's forehead and like a river, the energy flowed from him, annihilating the corrupted soul. Castiel simply stared, amazed. It was all coming back to him. Meeting Dean in that wooden shed, rebelling against Heaven, breaking the barrier in Sam's head, giving Crowley the wrong jar of blood for Purgatory, sending Raphael after Sophia, being interrupted by Sophia while trying to open Purgatory and getting exploded by the archangel once they got to Raphael. He remembered it all and before he knew it, he was standing over four dead demons. With that, one final memory came to mind. The moment when he was put back together. By God. He'd found himself dazed and confused on a river bank, unlike the previous time when his memory was intact and had been promoted to the rank of Seraph. _What could this all mean?_ he began to wonder. _Why did God erase my memory?_

A rush of footsteps sounded behind him. Meg and Dean simply stared in awe. "That was beautiful, Clarence," Meg complimented.

"Cas?" Dean called out, hoping to find his angelic friend in the eyes of this stranger.

"I remember you," Castiel said, turning around to see the human who was so prominent in his returning memory. "I remember everything." His eyes roved over the ground, a sullenness betaking them. The burden of his actions weighed down on his mind. "What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Sam is dying in there," Dean answered.

"Because of me!" Castiel exclaimed, a repressed yet apparent exasperation in his voice. "Everything. All these people. I shouldn't be here." Overwhelmed by the impact of his own actions, he took off away from the hospital.

"Cas. Cas!" Dean called out after him. "If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time," Dean tried convincing him.

"Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?" His jaw clenched at the thought of how many of his own kind he had slain in cold blood. All with the mad rush of power from the souls and the conviction that might was the only way to oust Raphael. He abruptly stopped and turned to face Dean. "We didn't part friends, Dean." It upset him to think of the lengths he'd gone to in order to push those that would help him away. He'd let Crowley kidnap Lisa and Ben. He'd set up a trail for Raphael to ambush Sophia and get her son – an innocent archangel child. Both were the actions of someone who was sick and unfit to watch over humans – it was unbecoming of what an angel _should_ be. The memory of who he used to be terrified him.

"So what?" Dean pressed.

"I _deserved_ to die," Cas sounded so convinced. "Now, I can't possibly fix it... So why was I put back together again?"

Dean only felt sorry for him. He saw the guilt in his old friend's eyes. He saw the yearning in them to take back all the bad things he'd done. It must be a heavy weight to carry. "Maybe _to_ fix it," Dean suggested. "Wait," he beckoned as he opened the trunk of the Impala. His hands scoured in the darkness but eventually he felt the familiar texture of the khaki trench coat and pulled it out into the light. Castiel gazed upon it lovingly, seeing it as a mantle of an angel deployed to protect humankind. It had been with him through thick and thin. For an inanimate object, it had seen his brightest days and his blackest nights. It represented what he was and what he could be. Dean's expression seemed to plead him to take it back and become who he was supposed to be.

When Castiel donned the blood-stained coat again, he vowed to himself never to betray his friends again and to be more compassionate as he had always thought angels should be. It was a broken world and a broken Heaven he came back to and even if it seemed impossible, he would try as best as he could to fix it. Even if that meant adding bricks one by one to a wall from scratch. But that night, as he found out, he could only fix Sam and that too by sacrificing his own sanity.

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 29 July 2011, 9.02am**_

Zara's eyes drifted lazily open. She felt a heavy tiredness throughout her body and in her mind. Her limbs stretched out, feeling every muscle in her body. The space next to her on the bed was empty. Nick had gone off to work. The bed was warm. She didn't want to get up. She wrapped the blankets around herself and curled into a fetal position, her head slipping off the pillow. This was how her day began everyday. Though she had gotten a job, it was a night-time deal and she only had to go every other night. That meant that days were always lonely. She enjoyed spending time with Nick, sure, but he went to work on weekdays and wouldn't be home until 6pm or later. That left her alone most of the time, with only herself and her thoughts. Her dark, depressing thoughts about what she was doing here.

There was a cycle to her thoughts. It began with her dreams. The ones she'd been having since the day she'd come here. She dreamt of Luciel, the archangel son who was supposed to be Sophia and Lucifer's happily-ever-after. The son who she loved unconditionally and missed with a burning ache in her chest every time she thought of him. She prayed to him every night, though she knew deep inside that he probably couldn't hear her. In the beginning, she prayed that he was alright and safe. Then, as she struggled to fasten the memory of him to her mind, each day chipping away at the details she remembered from her time with him, she prayed that he would come back to her, that she would see him again, even if only so that she could remember how he looked like. In times like these, she found herself consulting the small palm-sized photograph she had of him when he was just an infant. She remembered the innocence in them and the purity of mind and spirit which she never found in herself. For someone who scoffed at the Christians who eagerly awaited Christ's second coming, she found herself feeling a similar emotion when thinking of her son. She could have been a sinner for letting Lucifer take her but this child made it all okay; he made it all worth it.

The next stage was the longing to be a mother again. Holding a child in her arms, rocking the infant on her shoulder, singing sweet melodies to him – she yearned for it from the deepest recesses of her soul. Sometimes she went into a daze just thinking about it, envisioning herself with a child in arms as she spun absently and ecstatically in the living room of the apartment as though dancing to a tune. She imagined a child's laughter ringing in her ears, bringing a smile to her face. The yearning was so strong at times that she couldn't help but stop and stare when she sauntered in a park and came across a young mother with a child. Once, she made conversation with a young woman who had a crying baby just so she could hold and comfort the child. Zara stared into the large brown eyes of the child which were moist with tears and she cooed and sang. The child quietened down quickly, awestruck by Zara's voice and luscious black curls which it grasped in its tiny fingers. The momentary satisfaction waned when Zara was once again left alone, to ponder on her lost motherhood while she puffed on a cigarette – courtesy of Nick, who'd shown her how to smoke them.

Finally, she'd wonder about Sophia. Where was her archangel? When was she coming back? Zara sometimes chuckled to herself, comparing her situation to the high-school girl who kept wondering when her crush would text back and always feeling like he was ignoring her. Some of her brightest memories had been those where she'd felt closest to Sophia, that primordial connection between them giving her life and energy. It always felt like they were meant to be. Sophia felt familiar, like a best friend you'd know since childhood or even a lover. That kind of connection was hard to find and most people never even find it – not to the extent Zara and Sophia had it anyway. Zara felt Sophia permeating her every being, knowing her mind inside and out, and she sensed no judgment from the archangel. Who else in her life could even know a fraction of the things she'd done as a teenager and not make some kind of harsh, snide remark about it?

It was at this point during the day in which she'd dig through that leather bag Sophia had left her with for the bronze hawk. It was what allowed her to sense Sophia in the first place. She'd gather the fist-sized artefact in her palms and sit by the window in the apartment, where the light streamed in. Then she'd close her eyes and focus on thoughts about Sophia, like she did when Lucifer had employed her help before. Most of the time, she felt nothing though sometimes she would pick up familiar vibes – the smell of old books, petrichor, the friendly companionship of trees, the sensations of cool water running through her fingers, the rush of air against her body and more. These were all things that reminded her of Sophia – things that made her admire and worship the archangel. Her mind would latch onto these threads in her consciousness, tugging and pulling at them like she was trying to find a door behind which Sophia would be waiting for her. However, all her efforts proved futile. If the archangel felt her calling out, she didn't care.

This was her life now. That morning, all her usual thoughts seem to coalesce as she lay awake on the bed, staring at the curtains which had a small parting that let in the light. It almost looked like a door to Heaven if you didn't look at the details closely enough. A buzzing feeling came from the centre of her head, growing stronger until she became dizzy and light-headed. For a moment, it felt euphoric. The room faded away as she closed her eyes to savour this feeling. It was probably a lack of nutrition causing it, but who cares, she thought. Then, as soon as the feeling came, it left. Half an hour passed. Zara's arms pushed her body up as she continued to stare straight at the sliver of light coming in through the window. Slowly, her bare feet touched the ground and she stood up. She reached a hand to the window, making her way slowly to it. _Will you come back to me, my archangel?_ Her fingers touched the cold glass. Light shone on her skin but there was nothing magical there. The light was a deception. It was not the light she had hoped to see. It was a dim imposter of true angelic light.

 _I ran away from home for you. I left my whole life behind for you. I_ killed _for you._ These words swirled in her mind as she showered and made breakfast and later, lunch. There was no respite to the longing in her bones. It made her feel restless. Zara stared blankly at the steam rising from the hot pan on which she made lunch. She looked at the salmon as it cooked, its pink texture soft and savoury. But she wasn't hungry. She felt an itch under every inch of her skin. The sizzling sound of the meat rang in her ears until it was all she could think about. Her mind went blank. Her hand reached out to the pan slowly. She wasn't even thinking of consequences at this point. There was a sharp stinging sensation when her palm touched the edge of the hot pan and she quickly withdrew her hand, staring at the faint red streak forming on her skin. She felt a burning sensation and simply traced the streak with her other hand. Though it hurt, it was still a feeling and thus was a contrast to her typical inner numbness. She put her hand under running water to soothe it. It was barely noticeable a few hours later.

It was Friday that day, which meant she had to work at night. She threw on a pretty dress, with floral designs that men liked to see on her, and went out for a walk between 4 and 5pm. Though her shift at the pub started at 8pm, she had to come in earlier for a rehearsal and help out Cecil, her boss, with other duties. She found him to be very likeable as he always maintained a respectful distance and seemed like a noble enough person. All he wanted was to live an honest and virtuous life, a stark contrast to her failure of an attempt at one. That day, as she began walking towards the pub, she felt especially tired. She couldn't, for the life of her, understand why she was so tired all the time. She always slept for long hours and barely did anything strenuous in the morning – yoga at the most – so there was no reason for laziness to tug at her muscles. There was also a constant heaviness in her chest that she longed to be rid of and tried to distract herself with the sights of birds flying, of kids strolling with their friends, of couples walking hand-in-hand, but inevitably her mind returned to her own sorrows. She felt chained to her own mind.

That was when a strange thought occurred to her. She knew immediately that it wasn't the best idea. Yet, just as her mind always did in moments like these, she dismissed the warnings from the reptilian part of her brain and pursued this counter-intuitive drive. Her legs took her down this familiar path that she had come upon accidentally the day after she'd met Nick. _Am I really doing this? Guess I am…_ she thought as she entered the empty street. This was the dangerous part of town, she'd been told. She remembered the buildings here when Nick had come to show her out of there. She also remembered where Nick had stabbed the robber who'd held a knife to her neck. She absently put a finger to her neck, remembering the small gash there which she'd tried to cover up with a bandaid. She'd gotten questions about it where she worked, sure, but she simply told the truth – she had gotten it while getting mugged. Her eyes drifted across the road to see the scene of the murder. It was cordoned off and the local PD had put several markers there and a chalk outline. Zara wondered if the police had any leads on Nick – not just this one murder but the others he'd committed. He was probably good at covering his tracks but even the best serial killers sometimes slipped up.

Zara smirked. _Look at me, worrying about a serial killer._ A serial killer who cared about her, nonetheless. Was it even genuine? Was he just using her to keep Lucifer away? If he was, it made it easier for her to be emotionally-detached. If she didn't care about wanting to be with him, she would have no qualms about completing what she came here to do – get Lucifer his old vessel back. This doubt about whether what she had with Nick was real or not really took root in her mind. If she wanted, she could call Lucifer right now and get it all over with. But she'd promised Nick one month and a promise was a promise. Being emotionally-distant made the idea of summoning Lucifer a month later more palatable. After all, half a month had passed. Two more weeks were left. Only two.

As she contemplated these things, she found herself arriving at her destination – a dilapidated parking lot with a fence and graffiti-ed walls. The teenager with the baggy hoodie stood at the exact same spot she remembered him to be at, browsing something on his smartphone while occasionally looking around himself. His head jerked up as he noticed her approaching him. Under that hoodie, Zara could see his almost-bald head with short black hairs. He frowned slightly, his blue irises bearing into her eyes, as he regarded her with suspicion. His lower lip quivered nervously and his hands seemed to replicate this tremor as he nervously held onto his phone. "You need something?" he raised his head at her, his nose ring bobbing with it.

"Got any coke?" she asked authoritatively.

"I dunno what you talkin' 'bout, lady," the kid muttered as his eyes returned to the phone screen.

"Sure you do. Cocaine, dust, snow, whatever you call it. I want some," she said firmly, maintaining a steely gaze on him.

He studied her expression though his wavering gaze suggested that she was making him anxious. "You a cop?"

Zara rolled her eyes. "No." She took out a small switchblade and triggered it. She pointed the shiny blade at him. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

The kid flinched. "Okay, okay," he relented, holding his hands up in a half-surrender. "I don't want no trouble." He relaxed when she put the blade away. "Follow me."

Later, Zara leaned against a brick building as she looked at the tiny plastic sachet in her palm. The white crystalline solid gleamed from inside it. 250 milligrams. It was more than enough for her. At least this time she knew her limits and could consume as much as she knew she could handle. But the question was whether she _should_ take some now. She remembered what it was like to be high on cocaine, though it was a distant memory. She remembered the rush of energy and the euphoria. Her first time had been in a party she wasn't supposed to be at in a neighbourhood she wasn't supposed to even know, when she was sixteen. She'd snuck out of home to see her then-boyfriend, who happened to be selling drugs. He'd set up a line for her and egged her on to try it. She was hesitant at first, but everything she did was a rebellion. She had such a deep resentment for her family and people around her that she no longer cared about what anyone thought and wanted to do things that would horrify them, even if they never actually found out. It gave her a thrill like no other.

 _What would Nick say?_ People at work could also notice her change in behaviour if she did some coke now. _Another time, then._ She stashed the packet in her handbag and headed to the pub as though nothing had changed.

* * *

(Lucifer POV)

 _ **Somewhere in space**_

The scarlet-eyed archangel scanned the vacuum of space. There had to be a clue somewhere. He'd scoured the earth for too long and he was sure she wasn't there. He knew her habits and patterns. If she really didn't want to be found, she wouldn't remain on the green and blue planet. Earth certainly wasn't her favourite planet – there were plenty more that vied for her attention. It was something he admittedly didn't understand about her. She'd practically created Earth with God, yet she wasn't as attached to it as He was. She loved its nature, sure, but she preferred the planets that came together on their own, without God or anyone spurring them on.

"There is something beautiful even in the things that God rejects _,"_ he remembered her saying once, while they were still in Heaven.

"You haven't seen the Leviathans," Lucifer had replied, to her responding with a punch to his arm.

What delightful times those had been. When Sophia had a smile on her face all the time, when they used to surprise each other, when he knew how and when to please her. Though it was in Sophia's nature to worry and be cautious, Lucifer had managed to sneak under her skin and crack a smile on her face even in the most impossible of circumstances. But now those times seemed so far away and all that was left was a void in his heart left by her absence. Her bright laughter filled his head as another memory came to surface…

" _Lucifer, you're an open book. Can we talk about something that's not you?" Sophia quipped. They were both sitting on the edge of a floating cliff, which had a great view of the other floating cliffs, some of which had magnificent waterfalls that poured into the cloudy abyss below. His fingers caressed her hand as he raised an eyebrow at her, caught by surprise at her jibe. Though he couldn't be too bothered by it – he always did talk about himself._

" _Oh I'm sorry," he said unapologetically, eyes narrowing. "I do want to talk about you but you never share anything about yourself with me."_

" _I…" she stuttered. Her eyes zoned out as unknowable thoughts rose in her head. "I don't know what to share. What do you want to know?"_

" _Hm. Let's start simple. What's your favourite colour?" A faint smile grew on his face as he watched her think hard about it. He thought she looked really cute putting so much thought into a simple question. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, her eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly as her eyes searched for the answers in thin air and her golden wings fluttering in slow back-and-forth movements with the wind._

" _It's hard to pick a favourite… all colours are beautiful," she finally answered. She had this sullen look on her face like she was sad that colours were subject to favouritism in the first place. It was almost child-like. Then she pouted and shook her head slowly. "Don't have a favourite."_

" _Alright… what about flowers? What's your favourite flower?"_

 _Once again, she thought long and hard about it. Her eyes averted guiltily before meeting his again. With a meek voice, she simply said, "All flowers are beautiful." Her smile said she knew he would roll her eyes at that but her eyes rued his judgment._

" _Oh come on," Lucifer lamented._

" _What? They really are!" she rebutted._

" _But you_ have _to have a favourite, Sophie! You just have to," he argued playfully, not really making a case for it. "Try at least."_

 _Sophia let out an audible exhale. "I don't know what to tell you, Luci. Truth is, I don't really know what I like and don't like. I'm still trying to figure it all out." When she said this, her hand grasped his and their fingers intertwined naturally. It may have been just a passing remark from her, but he thought about it a lot. It had been a sufficiently long time since she'd been brought to Heaven by God and he always thought she settled in well. But this made him realise that maybe she still felt out of place. He would never have suspected it and she never would have talked about it explicitly._ But I don't want you to feel that way! _he thought but never said. Instead, he decided to make use of the element of surprise._

 _Later, as she returned to her residence, an office that God had given her from the capital, she stopped in her tracks at the front yard. "Oh Lord," she gasped, a wide grin brightening her face as she saw the overwhelming abundance of jasmine bushes planted at her feet. The fresh fragrance of the flowers wafted in the air and she bent down to caress and care for them. That's when he appeared behind her. "Lucifer! Did you do this?" she asked, giggling._

" _Personally, these are my favourite flowers. I just thought… since you don't have a favourite… we could share mine," he explained as she neared him and took his hands. She looked intently at him as he said this, genuinely interested in what he had to say. She looked between the bushes and him and for a moment her eyes bore into his, not saying anything. "What?"_

" _I…" she huffed, her smile settling into the bubbly curves of her rosy cheeks as she continued to hold his scarlet gaze. "I think I know what my favourite colour is."_

" _Wha-oh" She cupped his face with her hands and pulled him in for a kiss, stopping only to gaze into his eyes. Not wanting to stop there, he grabbed her by the waist and took her inside for more._

A dull ache radiated from his chest as he remembered how beautifully their love had blossomed over the years. It had been an eventful adventure of trying things together and finding out what they both enjoyed. But most of all, they enjoyed each other. _Plenty of those memories,_ he chuckled to himself. Turning his attention back to the planets, he visited all her favourites – one with a pastel-pink sky and sand, which had an extremely long shoreline, was among them. He remembered it from the time she had taught him how to meditate. It was during the time he was infected by the Mark of Cain and though it did little to help him, he deeply appreciated her unwavering support. Who knows what kind of monster he would have truly become without her by his side?

Just as he recalled those tumultuous times, he spotted something. There were these faint glowing marks in space, of a light golden shine that looked like paint smeared on planets. They were so degraded and dull that you wouldn't even notice them on first sight. He saw them on multiple planets, gas giants and even stars. _Holy shit,_ he thought. _A trail?_ _She left a trail?_ His first instinct was to question whether it was really her who left these marks. The material used seemed ancient and decomposing, like it had been there for a really long time. But given that he had never encountered this material before, he couldn't tell how long it had been. He simply followed the trail, hoping it would lead him to her.

Soon enough, he reached the end of the trail and what he saw confused and shocked him simultaneously. A golden-coloured planet with glowing sand, resembling the marks he'd seen earlier. As he landed on the planet where Aphelia's Arch was situated, he looked around in amazement. "What is this?" he asked himself in surprise. In all his life, he'd never come upon this place before. It was uncharted territory. He noticed the abandoned, lifeless buildings and went in all of them. He came out of them disappointed that there was no one or nothing there. That was when he spotted the magnificent structure – the large arch, with its intricate patterns, was embedded into a strange-looking wall which had a dark, wavy texture. Slowly, he approached the arch, feeling like a kid again when he used to explore the universe on his own.

* * *

(Sophia's POV)

 _ **The Omniverse, The Void**_

"Well, well, what do we have here?" I heard Khaos Theta ask. I looked up from my position in front of several monitors. Watching random events in other universes was the only pastime I had other than brooding by the windows. "This isn't supposed to happen…"

I frowned. That sounded dubious. Was He tricking me? Nothing happened around these parts that Khaos didn't want. I went over to Him and followed His gaze to a screen. I gasped. "What is he doing here?" I exclaimed. I saw Lucifer, standing in front of the Arch.

"Honestly, I don't know," Theta replied, his voice monotonous as if He was puzzled.

"Is this some sort of joke?" I glared at Him accusatorily. "You said you only wanted _me_! You said you'd leave him out of this!" As relieved as I was to see Lucifer, this wasn't what I wanted at all. He was supposed to be on earth, in his old vessel, with Zara. Not here! He could be in danger.

"I am true to my word, Sophia. I did not make this happen," Theta denied.

"You're lying!" I was seething at this point. How dare He bring Lucifer into this? As if our arrangement wasn't bad enough for me. He held me in here like some kind of prisoner and worked me like a slave, providing little in the way of answers. Maybe I was doomed to this prison but I wouldn't let Lucifer become part of it. I stormed towards the door that led to the Void. I was stopped abruptly when Theta grabbed me by the wrist and spun me around.

"Listen to me," He spoke menacingly. "I have no reason to lie to you. But if you insist on this childishness, I _will_ hurt him. Understand?" I held His gaze with an intensity I had never known before, nodding slightly to show my reluctant agreement. I wanted to challenge Him more but my lower lip trembled uncontrollably. "Good. Now wait here." He eased His grip on my wrist and I jerked my hand away from Him.

While He left, I rubbed my wrist, finding marks on it left by Him. For someone who claimed to care about me, even if it was in a twisted, maniacal way, He sure didn't hesitate to hurt me. Once, I had challenged Him on His refusal to give me any real answers and threatened to leave. Let's just say that what happened next was disturbing. He'd locked me up in a small cell in complete darkness for daring to speak to Him in a harsh tone – His temperament was largely unpredictable (on some days, He was fine with my questions and on others He was _really_ not). He'd said some extremely harsh things to me which I do not wish to recall because it induced a crawling sensation under my skin from how disturbing it was. A shudder jolted me as I remembered what came next. A vile, perverted being, He was – that I found out the hard way, with Him doing unimaginable things to me in that small cell. I'd… felt shattered… and violated.

"I'll let you out if you apologise," He'd said, as I lay on the invisible floor, curled up. I was shaking all over, unable to believe what had just happened. No one had ever treated me like this before. It felt like the lowest of the lowest ways you could treat another being. If He'd intended to break me, He had succeeded in that moment. I was utterly powerless to do anything else. For a long while, I'd remained in that cell, preferring its claustrophobic loneliness to His presence. Occasionally, I'd hear this strange sound, like someone was rapping on the walls. I tried calling out and seeing if anyone was there, but all I'd gotten in response was more knocking and rapping. Realising that it was probably just another way for Khaos to screw with me, I ignored it.

After the initial shock wore off, I only felt anger. I was never raised to give up easy, though in that moment I was finding it hard not to. I swore in my mind to get my revenge. To find my son and find God or something to help me defeat this monster. I didn't know how yet, but I would do it. I would do it from right under His amorphous nose and He would be none the wiser. So I played along. I did apologise.

"You're not being sincere," He'd waved it off, that dick-head. So I apologised again, putting on the most victimised expression I could summon, though scorn was all that filled me. "Oh Sophia," He sighed. "I _forgive_ you." He'd said it like it laboured Him to do so. He opened the door and I stepped out. The first thing I noticed was a long hallway, with several more cells just like mine. My eyes narrowed. Why were there so many cells? How many people did He keep in here and why? But before I could pursue these questions, He'd teleported us back to His office to carry on as if nothing had transpired between us.

The rumbling static of the Void coming through the screen snapped me out of my thoughts. I watched in nervous anticipation as Theta came out of the Arch to meet Lucifer. "Who the hell are you?" Lucifer asked. I let out a sharp exhale, more relieved than I wanted to admit at the sound of his voice. I wished so bad that I could be reunited with him again. My fingers traced the screen, roving over his scarlet hair and angled cheekbones. Every inch of me wanted to be there with him.

"Now, is that any way to greet your Uncle?" Theta said, opening up His arms in welcome. His long, thin fingers looked like talons. His stick-like limbs along with His bony abdomen made Him look more unsettling than He already was.

Lucifer regarded the being before Him with scepticism. "I don't have an Uncle," he stated resolutely.

"That's just like God isn't it, to omit important details?" Theta lamented. "I am Khaos, older sibling to God and Amara."

"Khaos…" Lucifer repeated the name. He must be remembering it.

"Say, nephew, how would you like to become more powerful?" Theta proposed. "I hear you have a nasty vendetta against a certain terrestrial species."

"Huh?" Lucifer's eyebrows crinkled, mystified by the turn of the conversation. Then, his eyes eased like he was seriously considering the proposition. _Oh no,_ a sense of dread filled me. _Don't take the bait, Lucifer._

"Just say the word, and I'll give you all the power you want. Bet your daddy never told you that, huh?" Theta smirked. "I have a neat little instrument that could do just the thing…" He went on like a salesperson. I grew alarmed at the way Lucifer looked at Him curiously. _You idiot,_ I began cursing him, frightened by the possibility that he was even listening to a word coming from Khaos. Unable to help myself, I charged out of the door into the Void.

"I don't know…" Lucifer trailed off, the puzzled expression never leaving his face. As I neared the Arch, panic growing within me, Theta casually turned around, His eyes expertly catching mine in the darkness briefly before turning back to Lucifer. It was a warning. I halted, close enough to the Arch to listen to their conversation but not enough to be seen.

"I could even give you a tour of my home," He offered, pointing a thumb over His shoulder at the Void. _Shit._ My breathing grew heavier. "If you'd be willing to step inside for a moment."

Lucifer stared into the Void and I desperately hoped he wouldn't see me because if he did… I didn't want to think about it. He squinted. From his perspective, I imagined that all he could see was darkness. Then, he frowned, taking a step back. "I didn't come here to make friends. I'm looking for someone," he declared resolutely. "And no offense, but I've never met you so… stranger danger and all that." I heaved a sigh of relief. _Thank God._ "Do you happen to know where Sophia is?" he asked. I felt my heart breaking. He'd come all this way in search of me? I didn't know whether to feel annoyed that he didn't give up or flattered that he didn't move on with his life yet.

"The hybrid? Should I?" Theta feigned ignorance.

"Your name is inscribed on the vault. I'd think you'd know something," Lucifer grew suspicious. "What did it mean anyway? The last condition?"

"It's just a formality," Theta waved it off. "You see, God employed my help to construct the vault. That condition was just my way of exacting… payment from Him. Not to worry though, all debts have been cleared." Theta glanced back at the Void, provocatively eyeing me.

"You constructed it? But I thought that angel did?" Lucifer probed. He was probably referring to Hassiel, since the archangels revealed that they had enslaved him to build the cage and the vault before trapping us in them.

"Hassiel may have built the vault physically, but those were my blueprints, my materials and my minions you saw in there," Theta explained. "Alright, this has been nice, but if you aren't staying for tea…"

"Wait," Lucifer stopped Him. "You must know something. Have you seen her around here?"

"I'm afraid not," Theta lied.

"You're an all-powerful being," he sounded exasperated. "You _must_ be able to do something to help me. Summon her, locate her, whatever."

"Sorry kid, I don't care enough to get involved in your relationship," Theta dismissed. "If she's so hard to find, maybe she doesn't want to be found. And as much as it saddens me to say it, she's probably left you for good." I wanted to scream right there and then. He was planting an idea in his head of me that I would never want him to think. Seeing the dejection on Lucifer's face made my chest ache. But it was probably best that he didn't come probing around these parts again. Hesitantly, Lucifer turned, flexing his wings and taking off. All of my hope drained away to see him leave.

In an instant, I felt myself being slammed against the wall. I gasped. When my eyes adjusted to the sudden change, I realised that I was back in the Omniverse. Khaos had me pushed up against the wall and was now rapidly approaching me. His telekinetic grip pressed hard against me. I couldn't even flinch. "Did you just _disobey_ me, Sophia?" His tone was sharp. His sharp fingers caressed my cheek. He let out a chuckle. "Do you realise how many of your problems are caused by your own disobedience?"

"Screw you," I uttered.

He clenched His fist, twisting my insides. He roared in anger as I screamed in pain. I don't know how much time passed before He stopped but when He did, I felt immensely dizzy as I fell to the ground. "You know, I'm tired of this. Of me trying to connect with you and you not cooperating with me. Don't you realise the potential of our teamwork?" He ranted. I slowly got back up on my feet, still in pain. "I'm going to give you one more chance. If you disobey another order, I'll have to wipe your memory. Do you want that, princess?"

"No," I weakly mumbled. "I won't disobey again."

"Good."

* * *

A/N:

So that one was for all of you who wanted more Lucifer/Sophia (I know that sounds like I'm trolling you and I'm sorry about that haha). But you never know what might happen next to bring them together. As you can see, this chapter is all about remembering things. I enjoyed writing it so I might try doing more of these if you'd like.

Okay so Cas is not dead, he is surely alive. And you might recognise this part as him taking on Sam's damage from the cage. Then you might wonder, if Purgatory isn't open, how will he ever face his guilt and recover from the damage? Oh, don't worry, there is plenty of opportunity for that.

And poor Zara is going back to her old ways. Will she touch that cocaine? Will she hit rock-bottom without Sophia around? I sure hope not.

Oh and I hope that the recap at the beginning was alright. I'm not sure if it's alright or uninformative so do let me know what you guys think of that and I'll improve on it.


	46. The Glimmer

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 46: The Glimmer**

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 30 July 2011, 8.01am**_

"Rise and shine," Zara leaned on top of him, cupping his head with her hands and kissing his forehead. A soft groan escaped Nick's lips as he stirred awake. It was an ordinary morning. The sun was up, the air was calm and the roads were quiet – just perfect. Zara felt fresh – almost like a whole new person.

"You're up early," he remarked, tracing her cheek with a thumb. The thin slice of light that crept in through the ignored gap in the curtains cast a radiant glow on her face and her brown eyes shined with the possibility of an entire timeline of happy days. Having her here, it made him feel something again. Loneliness be gone. Now there was someone to wake up to in the mornings. It filled an aching void he had become so familiar with over so many years.

"Yeah well, I get plenty of sleep these days," she replied as she got up and shot him a warm smile before turning to open the curtains, casting darkness away from the whole room.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Nick sat up and admired the view of her youthful, slim figure as she stared out the window. "Got any weekend plans?" he asked out of the blue.

"Plans? In case you didn't notice, I don't have much of a life," Zara chuckled. "Why do you ask?"

"How do you feel about going out of town for the weekend?" he suggested, eliciting a surprised turn of the head from her.

"I love it," she smiled.

"I figured that you know, with both of us holding jobs, we're making enough for a little weekend getaway," he reasoned.

"Yeah," she agreed, getting excited. "Sounds great, I'll look up places we can go."

"Uh actually," Nick interjected. "I have something in mind."

She waited for him to answer. "Are… you going to tell me?"

His greyish-blue eyes shot her a playful glare. "It's a surprise."

A mere two hours later, they were on the road, windows pulled down. Zara loved the feeling of wind rushing through her hair. She felt free on the road, with Nick in the driver's seat and just the essentials in the backseat. Nick passed her a cigarette and she puffed on it leisurely, blowing out the smoke through her plump, pink lips while resting an elbow out the window. The sound of a guitar riff playing through the speakers caught her attention. "I can turn it off if you want," Nick offered, his fingers ready at the dial.

"Are you kidding? This is my jam!" she grinned, enthused.

"Black Sabbath's your jam?" He looked pleasantly surprised.

"Oh _hell_ yeah," she nodded. Excitement shone in her eyes and there was a wide smile on her face as she remembered all the good memories. "You have no idea."

Needless to say, the ride continued with the both of them competing to finish the lyrics of Black Sabbath songs. " _What you gonna be, what you gonna be, brother, Zero the Hero,"_ they sang together. That's how he _knew_ she was for real. Her taste in music amazed him, especially coming from someone her age.

"Zara, were you an old white biker dude in your past life?" Nick jokingly asked.

"Maybe. Were you?" she answered.

"Well, you see, my dad…" he began. "My dad was a great influence on me growing up. He'd bring all these classic rock and metal albums back home and play it out loud. I practically slept to it." Zara smirked at his story. "What about you?"

Zara's smile faded a little, but she tried to keep it up. There was no need to let the distant past bring her down in the present, especially when she'd left all that behind a long time ago, she thought. "My parents didn't take too well to my taste in music," she admitted. "My mother said heavy metal was the Devil's music. So I said, 'Satan has a great taste in music!'" They both had a good laugh over that. "Unfortunately, that joke didn't land with them. My parents are pretty devout, so I was grounded for a while and they threw out my CDs _and_ my mp3 player. Yes, they actually did that."

"Grounded for what? Bringing up Satan?" It was a genuine question.

"Oh, you don't know half the things my parents did." She chuckled sardonically. "They're crazy." She let out a sigh, though a sly smile found her way across her lips. "But that didn't stop me."

"Sounds… intense," Nick acknowledged. "So you had it rough growing up?"

"A little," she nodded. "My family was pretty tyrannical. But it's alright, I just snuck out at night when they were asleep." Nick could tell she was brushing it off as something trivial when it seemed more… psychologically scarring. But it did make some sense to him. Rebellious teen, evangelical parents – no wonder she was tempted to run away with the Devil. "And look at me now."

"Look at you now," he repeated her mantra.

* * *

(Sophia POV)

 _ **The Omniverse, The Void**_

The scratches on the walls were still there. My hand traced the grooves, remembering the time my fingers dug in so deep from pure terror. I was back in the cell. Though I had agreed not to disobey, Khaos thought it necessary to keep me in my cell again, for a while at least. He'd said I had to learn the "value of freedom" and that "friends must be helpful that way". I couldn't wait to be a "friend" to Him, if that were the case. To be fair, He _did_ teach me some new tricks. He showed me how to channel my dark essence and express it despite the presence of Lucifer's light essence within me. Admittedly, I was a little freaked out when I felt the white sclerae of my eyes turning black, reverting to how they were before God took me in. This state was more conducive for me to channel the power of the anti-matter universe, He'd said, as compared to the way I was doing it before – the only time I had consciously used my dark essence was during the rebellion in Heaven, when we needed a quick escape. And that had taken a lot out of me. The moment I had successfully transitioned between both states, a new fear crept up on me. I was afraid that using my dark essence more would make me more like Amara.

"Don't be ridiculous," Khaos had dismissed my concern. "Did having the light essence make you more like God? Did it even make you more like Lucifer, since it was from him that you were revitalised?" I simply frowned in thought. _Did it?_ "No! The answer is no, Sophia," He snapped me out of my thoughts, like it was ridiculous that I was even considering it. But there _was_ a case to be made, yes? No matter, I was still here because of my cursed lifeblood and my stupid decisions. Again there was that rapping on the wall which came and went.

"Psst," someone whispered. There was a soft knocking on the door. "Sophia."

I squinted at the small opening which was reinforced with bars. Someone had pulled open the latch and was looking in. I recognised those green eyes to be my own. As I neared the bars, I realised who it was. "You," I recognised. It was my alternate self, the one who'd tried to convince me that Khaos was always right. I had nothing but scorn for her, after the things she'd said. "What do you want?" I asked pointedly.

"I… I wanted to apologise," she stammered. "I didn't realise the extent to which He'd go to… persuade you."

"Didn't you? You're the one who talked about whole universes getting destroyed because of our stubbornness!" I rebutted.

"I know… I know. But He said you were different. He said you were more important. He wanted to treat you better," her face looked sullen. "I suppose that's why He restored your universe. I can't imagine what you must have been through."

"Try this: Everything you love getting stripped from you along with your dignity and your spirit!" I didn't bother concealing the bitterness in my voice. She flinched at my tone.

"You must understand, there was nothing I could've done," she sustained. "But I see now that I can't stand for this anymore. After all that I've witnessed…" She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a softer whisper. "Honestly, I was scared. Maybe that's why I simply did as He said."

"Way to take a stand," I shot back sharply.

"I had no choice! Do you know what He does to those of us with second thoughts?"

"I think I have an idea," I gestured to my cell.

"Listen to me very carefully, Sophia," her voice grew ominous. "You're not the only one here. You see those other cells down the hall. They're not empty. Our other selves are all in there." _What?_ An uncomfortable feeling stirred in my abdomen, along with a rising sense of terror. "I think I'm the only one who's not in solitary confinement as of now. And you'll be out soon too."

"What does He want with us?" I asked. "Why is He keeping the lot of us locked up while only two of us are free to move? What's the point?"

"Trophies. They're trophies," she put a name to my worst nightmare. "You're the real endgame. I just happened to be compliant. And guess what, I'll take freedom any day."

"Wait, wait… I don't quite understand all of this…"

"There's no time for a history lesson! It's complicated. Anyway, I came here for one reason. Omega sent me here," she stated.

"Omega?" I've never met that one before.

"He's the good one." When she saw the scepticism in my eyes, she elaborated. "For real. He's the total opposite of Alpha. And Alpha's the one who controls all the others right now, by the way."

"I noticed."

"So short story is, Alpha and Omega are the most powerful facets of Khaos but they are also opposites of each other, and in their grand struggle for power, Alpha won and got control of all the other versions of Him," she summarised.

"Why doesn't Omega just seize control again?" I questioned.

"Because He's locked up, just like you are now. You think Alpha's just gonna let that guy walk free?"

"What does Omega want?"

"Just what you'd think. To get His revenge on Alpha and cage that son of a bitch up. But He needs _your_ help to do it. Why do you think Alpha's been keeping such a close eye on you?" she said.

For the first time in all the time I'd been here, I finally saw hope again. This could be my chance. "What does He need from me?"

Through the bars, she passed me a small rolled up note. "I'm not allowed to speak about it. You see, Khaos can tell when certain… _crucial_ information is being passed around. So Omega can only communicate with you using such… simplistic methods. They'll reveal small clues hidden in code that you have to decipher," she explained.

"Great," I sighed. "Just what I need. Puzzles in my spare time."

"It's the only way Omega could ensure that Alpha never finds out." She looked dead serious, clearly unamused by my sarcasm. Suddenly, she turned to look down the hallway, possibly checking to see if anyone was approaching, before turning back to me.

I held up the note, my gaze drifting between it and her. "Why should I trust you?" I finally asked.

"Are you being serious right now?" she sounded like she couldn't believe it.

"Deadly. You're looking out for yourself, as I gather. Why shouldn't I believe that Khaos isn't just using you to set me up for some kind of test? Why should I believe anything you say?"

"Sophia, there isn't time for this."

"Give me _one_ reason. I want to believe," I reassured her.

She hesitated. "If you really insist upon it… Knowledge is currency around here. If you go to the mainframe, which is in a room similar to the main office – the one with the many screens – there is a contraption there which you can use. You can sell information for information in return. And here's the thing: whatever information you give the machine will replace information of the same magnitude in the mainframe, which means you can take data that Khaos already has and replace it with your own. You can see His secrets for a simple trade. Neither of us are supposed to know about it."

"Then how do you…?"

"It was an accident. But being compliant meant that He would trust me with information like this. See, it's not completely a bad thing," she reasoned. "Go try it for yourself and you'll see that I'm telling the truth. Make sure you're out of His sights."

"I will," I declared.

She gulped, her eyes becoming sullen. "I'm warning you, if Alpha catches _one whiff_ of what you're doing, it's game over. For _all_ of us." Knots of anxiety formed in my abdomen. "Alright, I've spent too much time here. I should go," she stepped back abruptly, hands trembling as she turned to leave. Before I could ask her anything else, she shut the latch, leaving me in the darkness again. I made my eyes glow as I sat back down in a corner of the cell. Unrolling the note, I recognised the Enochian writing. There were a few lines of information, the latter half looking like a codex. The first line, written in larger font, simply said, 'Right beside you'. The rapping on the walls from the adjacent cell resounded again.

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Fayetteville, West Virginia – 30 July 2011, 1.15pm**_

"Wow," Zara held her breath as they drove across the New River Gorge Bridge. The view was spectacular, with the bridge towering over a thin river that snaked between two patches of thick forest. She couldn't believe that she had never been to this place before. Then again, travelling wasn't really something that her family did.

They spent the whole day walking around town, visiting various stores and libraries. It was the most mundane thing they could think of and that was the appeal. "So what's the surprise?" Zara asked, as they sauntered down a street after lunch. "Why'd you pick this place?"

"Oh, you know… I thought you might like the bridge," he shrugged.

"The… bridge…?" she narrowed her eyes at him. "We came all the way here for a bridge?" she chuckled. "Not saying I don't like it, but it has to be more than that, right?"

Nick shook his head nonchalantly. "Nope. Oh, there's also a miner's trail. Did you know that Kaymoor was one of the largest coal production operations in the 1900s? There's an interesting bit of American history for ya," he went on.

"Alright…" Zara's first thought was that something was off – that he wasn't being honest. But she'd seen him kill someone and that was as intimate as you could get with someone. So she didn't want to press any further. Maybe he really was an enthusiast for American history. But she did notice something different about him. He seemed to be unusually chipper. It was evident in his eyes, which looked like they were scanning around constantly. In moments where they were both silent, she saw him looking off into the distance and his feet would be tapping the ground restlessly if they were sitting. Sometimes he just seemed lost in thought. It wasn't completely weird – he still held conversation with her. It just seemed like there was something else on his mind.

Later, as the sun began to set, they wandered into a bar. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk," she jokingly said as he ordered a row of shots. It was dark in the bar and it wasn't very crowded so there was a fair bit of space for people to move around and dance.

"Oh, I'm sorry if you aren't as tough as you seem," he taunted, a sly grin creeping across his face.

"You're gonna be like that, huh?" she rolled up the sleeves of her grey sweater in a display of courage. "Well, _mister,_ I don't back down from a challenge." In an instant, she threw her head back as she gulped the first one. She made a sour face as the aftertaste of the liquid came to sensation. "Ugh, that's gross."

"Giving up already?" Nick mocked as he took his first shot.

A mischievous glint shone in Zara's eyes. "I'm just getting started."

Nick watched in amazement as Zara downed glass after glass. He'd stopped after two, but that was on purpose. He didn't want to get too high. Strangely, after enough drinks, she didn't even notice that he wasn't drinking as much. Soon enough, Zara became so dizzy that she began laughing at how drunk she was. As she got off her seat, her hand held onto the counter to steady herself. Her head kept spinning and she would have fallen if not for Nick holding her arm. "I… can stand," she declared, pulling away from him.

"If you say so," he relented with quiet amusement. He had no intention of hurting her, like what his actions seemed to point to. He had other plans. But for that, he needed to get her out of the way. And so they walked back to the motel, with Zara staring at the world around her in amazement, at how everything seemed to blur with everything else in her drunken state. She rubbed her hand across her chin and cheek, finding that she only felt numb. Things faded in and out of her vision and it felt like blinking took longer than usual. Before she knew it, she felt Nick's protective arms around her, guiding her along the pavement. Though she wanted to protest at first, she decided that his arms felt comfortable enough and put her arms around his waist for further support. When they reached the door of their shared motel room, her fingers fumbled inside her shoulder bag for the key. Nick watched her stumble inside the warm room as he closed the door behind them. She'd put the key back in her bag before setting it on the table, he noted.

Awaiting the comfort of their bed, Zara stripped off her sweater, revealing a black tank top underneath. "You should get some sleep," Nick said, peeling off his own jacket.

"Only if you join me," she flirted. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck and stood on the tip of her toes, pulling his face closer to hers to kiss him. Her lips widened into a smile as they remained in proximity to his. She found sanctuary in his arms and she felt lost in his lips. Again, she moved in and kissed him, more deeply this time. Unable to resist, Nick kissed her back, tilting his head and lifting her by the waist. She sometimes chuckled softly in between kisses, excited by the possibilities of their intimacy. He held her tightly to him as he planted kiss after kiss on her lips until she was heaving for breath. Then, he stopped, putting her back down on her own two feet. Zara's hands moved to pull off her top but he stopped her.

"Not tonight," he refused. "You're really drunk."

She smirked, like it was the silliest thing she'd heard. "What, you're afraid you'll take advantage of me? Come on," she brushed it off. "You make me feel so hot sometimes, you know?" she drawled with a seductive voice, undeterred. Her hands traced down slowly from his waist, eventually moving to undo his belt. "Trust me, I want this." Again, he stopped her. Nick gulped as he saw her bite her lower lip. As tempting as it was, Nick held her wrists firmly and guided her to the bed, where he laid her down. He helped her take off her shoes as her head sunk into a pillow, relenting to gravity. He even spread the blanket over her as she turned on her side and closed her eyes, giving in to an alcohol-induced sleep.

He waited maybe ten or fifteen minutes, just watching her as she fell deeper asleep, before fishing for the keys in her bag. While he did this, his fingers grazed against a plastic surface and he instantly froze. He took out the keys, but now his attention was captured by a curious little thing at the bottom of the bag. He reached in and pulled out a small plastic bag containing a white substance. He held it up and scrutinised it, eyebrows crinkling. His eyes widened when he realised what it was. Glancing back at Zara, he regarded her with concern. He never would have imagined her to be the junkie type. It also bothered him that she seemed so happy around him, though what he just discovered made him question that. His gaze softened, realising that he never wondered what she must be doing when he was not around. He'd just tacitly assumed that she was okay, with the way she made him feel. They had only met each other two weeks ago, after all, even if they acted like they knew each other for years. It seemed like a mask they put on for each other to ignore the fact of why they were together at all. Normal couples don't behave like this around each other, especially within two weeks of meeting. She had known what was under his mask all this while but he didn't hers.

With a heavy heart, he put the cocaine back and left the motel room, closing the door as softly as he could. As he stood out in the cold, his eyes sharpened and once again, they looked dead. A twinge of excitement fluttered in his chest as he set out to begin his night-time activity. He'd waited two weeks to do this. _Tonight's the night._ A predator of the night, he moved briskly, driving to his chosen, isolated spot in the woods. A sadistic smile crept across his face as he spread the waterproof sheet expertly, in anticipation of the next occupant of this plastic hell. Satisfied with how the abandoned cabin looked, he went in search of his next victim.

 _Michael Hernandez. Late forties. Divorced alcoholic. Recently moved to Fayetteville from Clarksburg to live alone in a different town from his ex. Must have been a pretty rough divorce._ Nick had spotted him in the pub one night when he came to watch Zara sing during her shift, which was what he usually did. Poor guy spilled his guts to anyone who would listen. Nick stalked him a few times after work and found out where he was moving to when he finally broke into the guy's place. Making sure no one else needed this guy – he didn't even have kids – Nick heaved a sigh of relief that he didn't have to look out for any more potential prey. When he reached Mike's house, he felt nothing but the rush from the thought about what he was about to do. He felt it deep within him, a dark, beastly urge to see nothing but pure terror in another's eyes as he released the anger pent up in his soul.

The victim's house was a stone's throw away from the cabin, situated in the same general area and hidden among trees. As he picked the locks and entered the darkness, he found the victim passed out on the couch, a nearly-empty liquor bottle slipping from his hand. On the table were an assortment of pills. _They'll chalk it up to suicide._ As he approached, a floorboard creaked under his foot. The unconscious man groaned awake. Nick hoped he would go back to sleep, but he wasn't _that_ lucky that night. Yawning, Hernandez sat up and rubbed his eyes. He sluggishly pushed himself off the couch and dragged himself to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. There was an invisible tango in the darkness as Nick tried to keep out of sight. As Hernandez stood in front of the kitchen window and reached to turn on the tap, his eyes casually wandered to the window. A pale reflection that wasn't his made him catch his breath in his throat. Soulless, light-coloured eyes stared into his. Not a single gasp escaped his lips before a blunt force struck him in the head and he fell, unconscious.

"Uhhh…" Hernandez grumbled as his eyes fluttered awake. His vision was still blurry but he could tell immediately that he wasn't home. It was dark and the only light was a red glow. He tried to rub his eyes but he found out quickly that his hands were bound together and his arms were secured to his sides. He gasped. His breaths were shallow, hurried, as he scrambled to sit up. The walls were covered in some weird material, he observed. As his back leaned against a wall, his eyes found the source of the red glow – a work lamp was set up on the other side of this small, dark room. That was when his gaze rested on the figure of a man seated on the other end of this space. Nick simply sat in silence as he waited for his victim to come to, resting his arms on his knees. Hernandez made out the shape of something long in the grip of this stranger. It looked to be… a hammer. "Wh-who are you?" he stuttered, feeling himself shiver all over, and it wasn't just from the cold.

Nick simply stared, unblinking. There was something about the way he looked at the man, something so bone-chilling about the way his eyes could seem so… indifferent. They didn't even look human. His unrelenting silence made Hernandez hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. "Are-are you going to… hurt me?" Michael's voice quavered. Still no response.

Primal fear began to spread in this man's mind and at once, he began violently thrashing about, trying to be free of whatever bound him. But he was no match for the strength of metal cuffs around both his wrists and ankles and the rope around his body. Seeing this tension build up – an evolution of confusion to curiosity to fear to then _paralysing_ fear – it sent the adrenaline rushing throughout the killer's bloodstream. His head grew light with anticipation of nothing but blood. Meanwhile Michael's lower lip trembled. "What d-d-did I ever do to you, man?" he sounded exasperated.

"Shut the fuck up, Michael," Nick said sharply. He put up a finger, his eyes wandering to some arbitrary spot in the ceiling. "Do you hear that?" Nothing but the sound of nocturnal creatures. "It's soothing, isn't it? Oh, and don't mind the lighting. It's a special occasion." Nick smirked, the first real human emotion he showed.

Michael gulped, feeling his words get caught in his throat. "Wh-What's the occasion?"

Nick exhaled slowly, stroking his stubble. "This is my last… thrill. Before Satan possesses me again." He sighed. "I can't say I'm not excited about it. I won't have to worry about cops if Satan's at the wheel. But I just met this girl and she's… amazing. I _want_ to have a life with her. But I'll have to give it all up for Satan. What do _you_ think I should do?"

 _He's crazy. He's so goddamn crazy. God help me,_ the victim prayed. "Um…" he waited to see if his would-be murderer was joking but it didn't look like it. He thought if he went along with it, he would be able to get off easy. "F-follow your h-heart…? Y-yeah, man. It's hard to find true love these days. Think about what the girl wants too."

"But she wants me to be possessed by Satan!" Nick suddenly yelled, causing Michael to flinch. "I guess I can't blame her. Who knows what she's been through. I feel for her, man. An ache in my heart." His glove-bound hand patted his chest softly. He thought about the drugs and the tears. "Then again, she barely tells me anything at all about how she's feeling! I mean, does she even feel anything for me at all? What does she get out of all this?"

Michael nodded in desperation, a look of horror still plastered on his face. "Yeah, yeah. Bitches be crazy, am I right? I should've known about my ex-wife!"

"What did you say?" Nick glared at him. He suddenly got up, invigorated. "What did you say about my Zara? How dare you speak about her that way!" He walked briskly towards the cowering victim. "You don't know _anything_ about her!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Hernandez cried. His body froze as Nick's gloved hand grabbed a tuft of his hair forcefully and pulled his head back. "I'm sure she's nice. I'M SURE SHE'S NICE!"

"You got no right, motherfucker," Nick growled as he swung the hammer. The man wailed as pain shot through his temple instantly. "She's a complicated girl." Another strike across the man's cheek sent shards of broken bone protruding through his skin. "But I respect her choice in the matter. She only means well, you know?" Michael's hands trembled as he cried in agony, seeking out his captor's feet to beg for mercy. Nick only saw red, both literally and figuratively. He became obsessively fixated on the splashes of blood on the victim's face and on the floor. He wanted more. His arm convulsed with repetitive movement, bringing the blunt end of the hammer down again and again until the skull was unrecognisable, remaining as bits and pieces on the floor. A fountain of blood sprung forth and cool sensation spread throughout his chest. The ritual was complete.

There was a spring in his step as he returned to the motel room after cleaning up. _Another night, another great bloodbath._ Now _I can relax._ Thoughts of Zara swirled in his head, including worry about her potential cocaine problem. He'd have to talk about it with her later, he realised. But right now, he couldn't wait to hit the sack. The knob twisted in his hand and the door inched open as he slipped in silently. That's when he noticed the dim light from the bedside lamp, as he shut the door silently. He slowly turned around, meeting Zara's eyes. She was sat upright on the bed and she regarded him curiously. "I couldn't sleep. And I was _really_ thirsty," she began. An empty glass on the table next to the bed confirmed her story. "Where were you?" Her voice didn't seem angry; it was weary. She was tired.

"I… uh… just went out for a drive. I couldn't sleep either," he answered, sitting beside her. To his surprise, she moved over and her arms encircled his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder. Convinced that she didn't suspect anything, he put an arm around her and pulled her close. She exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into his embrace. The sound of his steady heartbeat comforted her. While they remained like this, his hand stroked her hair and she moaned softly. Amused, he thought of her like a cat that needed to be cuddled and petted.

"You know," she lifted her head to face him. "You don't have to lie to me about killing people."

As her brown eyes bore into his icy blue ones, she noticed his eyebrows crinkle slightly, before relaxing in surrender. "I didn't want to disturb you with the thought of it," he confessed.

"I'm not disturbed," she blankly stated. "This is a part of my life now."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I'd tell you that I wouldn't lie about it again, but this is probably the last time before… you know…" he said casually. Zara nodded. She hugged him tighter, her eyes closing as though to wish that this moment would last forever. In her heart, she yearned for him, though her mind knew that this wasn't meant to last. She was grateful, nonetheless, for the days she got to spend with him.

* * *

A/N:

Alright, so that was a casual day in the life of Nick and Zara. Just thought it would be nice to see how they would be like, just having fun and not thinking about life and death. If you got the references I made, 10 internet points to you.

Oh, and things are brewing in the Void. I know things may seem confusing as hell now, and it definitely is for Sophia, but not to worry. Just think of the events in the Void as a spontaneous rising of conflict – their origin does not matter as much as what Sophia does and thinks. Her ultimate goal is to find out what happened to her son and take down Khaos (might be a lil difficult to do on her own). Lots of interesting revelations on the way :)


	47. The Prospect

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 47: The Prospect**

 _ **Heaven – 10 August 2011**_

"Brothers, sisters, please calm down!" Raziel ordered as he stood before the large assembly of angels. His team of knowledge-keepers sat in the front row, silently supporting him in their hearts while he addressed the rest of their family. "There is no cause for panic."

"Are you sure about that, Raziel?" Naomi challenged, sharing the stage with him. "You come to tell us that the archangel with all of Heaven's top secrets is missing with the archangel child, and you expect us to not worry? I think our siblings are right to think that she is plotting against us!" Cheers resounded in agreement. Angels raised their fists to show support to Naomi.

"Please, listen to me!" he raised his voice in a strained attempt to quieten them. "If Sophia intended to conquer us, she would have done it after delivering to us Raphael's severed head! It doesn't make any sense!"

"It does if you remember that she is Lucifer's whore," Naomi rebutted, a smug half-grin on her face. She huffed, spurred on by the confidence that her reputation as head of intelligence gave her – it meant that angels feared her for what she was capable of and respected her for her experience. Only, she failed to realise that her competitor for influence in Heaven, Raziel, had his own reputation as Keeper of Knowledge. He, on the other hand, was respected for his principles and nuance and seemed more kind and approachable. "She took the Evil One's side so there is no doubt that she is just like him!"

" _Lucifer's whore?_ " Raziel repeated, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "After everything she's done for us, that is all you can say about her?" He faced the crowd, gesturing to things around them. "Take a look around you, brothers and sisters. Those beautiful vines that grow in our buildings, those books that you consult when you are curious about God's creation, even the songs that we sometimes sing to each other – these were all Sophia's inventions, were they not? Even the earth, which we all swore to protect – was she not an architect of God's creation? We have these brilliant reminders of what Sophia is capable of and what she has given us, yet what have we done to repay her but smear her memory, erase her from the history books and pretend like she never existed?" The angels fell deadly silent. Some of their faces fell, as though to agree with him in their shame. "All because of what? Because of who she chose to love?"

"Sympathy for the fallen? You _blaspheme_ , Raziel," Naomi bluntly stated. Her strategy was to discredit him and his defence of Sophia was basically him serving her a golden opportunity on a platter. Raziel's honesty and unwillingness to take extreme stances made him vulnerable to dirty attacks, especially when Naomi was easily capable of manipulation.

"Blaspheme against who? If you haven't noticed, Naomi, God isn't here. And neither is our fearless leader, Castiel. There is no monopoly on the right opinion anymore," he shot back. All eyes fell intently on him, anticipating with intense passion as to the debate proceedings. Raziel cleared his throat. "I am not saying that Sophia is perfect, because she is not. I am not saying that the archangels didn't fail us because they did. But if we are to move on as a species, we must study and emulate what our predecessors did right and avoid what they did wrong. And we will never glean anything useful from the memory of Sophia if we keep defining her using our opinion of Lucifer or anyone else. Can you point to any of her recent actions in particular and say that she truly means harm for us?"

Shouts of encouragement sounded from the audience. Naomi gulped, internally becoming increasingly bitter as she realised that her plan to take down Raziel in a public forum was failing. She had thought it would be easy to gain the support of the angels, who were so used to having structure and orders that they would follow her. _Time for Plan B_ , she thought. "Let's say I concede this point," Naomi began. "What then? What will we do in a chaotic world, with no vision to unite us? Demons still run amok and humans need to be guarded. I strongly suggest that we all go back to the way things were, with a leader at the helm who already knows what needs to be done!"

"And who will this benevolent leader be? You?" Raziel huffed. "Your vision is no doubt shaped by what Raphael had in mind. And we fought a whole war to avoid that! What Castiel wanted, what he fought so hard to achieve through his flawed and imperfect ways, was for us to have freedom. We must be free from tyranny, free from leadership and only governed by strong principles of liberty and justice."

"That is ridiculous!" Naomi snapped, much to the growing distaste of the angels. Talk of Castiel was sensitive to most of them who had been on his side and looked forward to his direction. They mourned him once they had heard what happened, feeling pity for his fall into greed and decimation at Sophia's hands. "The freedom that you speak of is nothing but dangerous. What if some angels go off on their own and engage in sin? What if angels betray Heaven? My vision may be traditional, but yours is foolish and idealistic!"

"We must all be free to choose our own destinies. If this wasn't the way it was supposed to be, then why did God leave? Why did God resurrect Castiel to defeat Raphael?" Raziel continued to press, despite being weary of emphasising the same point. "Those of us willing to be guardians like we are supposed to be should stay and work based on a representative democracy, meaning we have discussions and take votes on what we should do. It's the only civil option that I see." The glaring contest between the two angels could set Heaven on fire. What impressed most angels was that Raziel was always outspoken and willing to speak unpopular opinions. With Naomi rising in support and her well-known history of ruthlessness under Raphael, anyone would have cowered to her demands for influence. But Raziel was down-to-earth (or Heaven, rather) and he was an angel amongst angels. His impassioned, principled and wise demeanour appealed to most angels, which was why he found himself with his own troops of supporters. The competition for influence was now between him and Naomi.

"Alright," another angel stepped up. It was Joshua, the gardener. He was another figure that everyone looked up to, since it was known that God sometimes spoke to him. "I think we've had a very… fruitful discussion today. Lots of viewpoints to consider." He clapped his hands together once. "Meeting adjourned."

The angels got up to leave. These days they had little to do. Mostly, they just sat around, talking, or sometimes they would just remain silent, watching the sunlight fade or grass grow. Some set foot on earth, finally curious about what went on down there. Some set off on expeditions into areas of Heaven they rarely visited, seeing as they had no reason to stay in Imperium, Heaven's capital. They only assembled back in one place when it would be announced on angel radio that such debates and discussions were being held.

Raziel's team – the _Nalkam_ , as they had been known since their inception – approached him on the stage as he got up. They were his most ardent supporters, having known about his outstanding leadership capabilities ever since Sophia fell and he rose to take her place. "Killer speech, boss," Dinah complimented, her thickly-lined eyes conveying her enthusiasm. As usual, she sported a spiky Mohawk with pink highlights and several piercings on her vessel's body, along with denim clothing. "Could tone it down on the Sophia worship, though."

"She doesn't get enough credit," Pahaliah defended. She was the nurturing, motherly type among them, her warm smile and friendly gaze a sanctuary for anyone who looked at her. "No one's defended her for years and she is certainly more deserving of it than Lucifer."

"Exactly," Raziel agreed. "Shemsiel, how are we looking on public support?"

"Your numbers are going up, Raz," the angel reported. His vessel was blond and wore a white tank top and flip flops, though the angel's intelligence was a great contrast to the informal façade he always wore. "The angels are taking a liking to you. This is good."

Raziel nodded, though his fidgeting fingers suggested that he was nervous. "Good, good. We are doing good work, team."

"Raziel," a voice called out from behind him. It was Naomi. "I understand that we have differences, but we must find common ground."

"I agree," Raziel simply said.

"Why don't we talk in private? Please come with me," she requested, gesturing to a hallway guarded by two members of her own team. By the looks of it, anyone would have grown suspicious. Yet, Raziel was willing to concede to this request, taking a step forward.

"Wait," Shemsiel interrupted, eyeing Naomi with unrelenting suspicion. "We're coming with you."

Naomi frowned slightly, signalling her disapproval.

"Shemsiel…" Raziel sighed and turned to his friend, his gaze sharpening to communicate his message. "Stand down."

"No!" he refused. He leaned in closer to his boss to whisper. "You know you can't trust Naomi. Who knows what she'll do to you when you're alone?"

"It's just a meeting," Raziel dismissed. "I can handle it."

"Well then let us be the judge of that," Shemsiel pleaded.

Raziel sighed, nodding to relent. He turned back to an expectant Naomi. "They're coming with me."

"Don't you think that matters of leadership are best discussed between us alone?" Naomi argued.

The Keeper straightened up, bringing his shoulders back. He maintained confident eye contact with his competitor. "I trust my team. Wherever I go, they go. So are we doing this or what?"

She shook her head slightly but gestured for them to follow her. Soon enough, they were all sat in a small conference room, with Raziel and his team on one side of the table and Naomi with her team on the other side. "Let me put it simply," Naomi opened, leaning back against the chair confidently. Her light blue eyes were cold and unforgiving and her thin smile seemed to hide something ugly underneath. "As someone who's worked to preserve harmony and obedience in Heaven, your callous attitude when it comes to debating is alarming."

"Thank you," Raziel said, smirking. Challenging blind obedience had always been the pillar on which Sophia had built their department and it seemed to have achieved its intended effect. Naomi took a deep breath when he said that, controlling her impatience. With his team in the room, she couldn't risk lashing out and using her instruments on him.

"Anyway…" she continued, eyeing their restrained smiles with growing disdain. "I do not wish for another war. All I want is for us to work together."

"So do I," he supported. "We need to find a way to reconcile both our approaches."

"And as much as I'd love that, the angels are sceptical of your commitment to bringing peace to Heaven," she stated.

"Is that so? No one's ever come forward with this scepticism…"

"Not everyone is as outspoken as you about criticism!" she snapped with a bitter tone that wasn't too loud but was sharp enough to cause her own men to flinch. She smiled to dissipate the tension and adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves. "What I meant to say is… I'm sure the angels would appreciate a token of your commitment."

"Hm…" he nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. "What is it that you want, Naomi?"

"Very well then," she leaned forward, now the full seriousness of the matter at hand showing on her tense face. "It's what we've always wanted from you and your team. We want the tablets. The Word of God."

"Huh." Rahab, the muscular one with the olive skin, smirked. "There it is. We thought you'd never ask," his croaky voice rumbled in amusement. "We don't know where they are, chica."

"And even if we did, why should we tell _you_?" Dinah supplemented, her jaw moving repetitively from chewing gum. It was this kind of behaviour that drove angels like Naomi up the wall and she wondered how Raziel or Sophia could ever have dealt with this.

"Like I said, we doubt your loyalties," Naomi firmly said, making eye contact with all of them. "The Word of God tablets are arguably the most important items that Sophia has in her possession. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to sit around and wait for her to do something _truly_ evil before taking them away from her arsenal."

"You forget that the Word is only useful to someone who can read it and none of us can," Raziel sustained. "I'm sorry, we cannot help you with this. The tablets are considered to be practically lost to history. They should remain that way."

"If you won't work with us, then you leave us no choice," Naomi's eyes roved over the floor before meeting Raziel's again. "We'll embark a search on our own. When we show the angels that we have secured the words of our father, they will flock to us and we'll expose you for the traitors that you truly are. That is all I have to say." She promptly got up, gathered her people and left.

"Work together my arse," Shemsiel jibed in his posh British accent, as the room remained empty with the exception of their team of five.

"I guess now we know what we need to do," Raziel remarked. "We have to find the tablets first."

"How? My previous calculations were proven wrong," Shemsiel worried. "Sophia's done a good job of hiding them."

"Still, we don't have a choice," the leader rested a palm against his chin, his elbow on the armrest of his chair. "If Naomi's going to give it her all to find the tablets, so must we. And I saw your calculations, Shemsiel," he looked to Shemsiel with a puzzled expression. "They seemed pretty solid. It should have been correct. I recognise the patterns from one of Sophia's earliest books."

"I consulted that very same book," Shemsiel admitted. "But when I dug the spot, there was nothing there."

"Maybe you should try again, but search for another tablet," Raziel suggested. "This time we'll all work together on this."

"Raz…" Pahaliah interjected. "I know I'm stating the obvious but… what about the repository? You said Sophia left a collection of everything she knows on earth? Surely the location of all the tablets is in there…"

"She said we'd have to consult her vessel," Raziel elaborated. "I'm not sure that it's a good idea to get the vessel involved. Such a vast store of knowledge is best left undisturbed."

"But what makes it safer with one human?" Pahaliah pressed on, her voice filled with concern. "If someone goes poking around in her head, they could get her to spill the location of the repository."

"Hm…" Raziel nodded in thought. "Finding her will have to be one of our objectives then. But getting those tablets through our own methods should be our first priority." The group agreed, adjourning their meeting and going their separate ways.

* * *

(Lucifer POV)

 _ **Cleveland, Ohio – 13 August 2011, 11.33pm**_

It was quiet in the dressing room, though the noise from the dissipating crowd outside filtered in through the walls, leaving Vince Vincente little room to think. As though to cue his melancholic thoughts, he poured a cup of whiskey into a shot glass, which became somewhat of a ritual every night these days. His body was weary from the concert earlier and he just wanted to retreat to his lonely thoughts of guilt and grief, staring into the amber liquid. _Thud!_ The door swung wide open and his bandmate, Tommy, stood at the threshold, blonde groupie attached to his side. "Hey, Vinny, we're hitting the town tonight. Come with us. Check out the wonders of Cleveland," Tommy beckoned, giving his girl a greedy up-and-down with his eyes.

Vince regarded them for a moment, their merry smiles and enthusiasm to live life to the fullest not lost on him. He didn't despise them; he just couldn't see himself pervading their bubble of carefree spirits. It felt more comfortable to sulk as he so often did. "Yeah, um... I'm good, thanks," the rockstar replied, yearning for the comfort of silence so that he could down that glass. Tommy's smile faded. He hated seeing his good friend like this all the time. He even worried for his mental health.

"Tommy, Tommy, come on!" a voice from somewhere outside called, inviting the band member back into the grasp of cheery night-time adventures, a separate world from the one Vince resided in.

Tommy simply looked at his female companion, who by now was also sensing the tension in the room. "Yeah. Hey, I'll catch up with you guys later," he told her, before stepping into the room. "Dude, you– you got to start living your life, man. You perform, you drink, you sleep, perform, drink-"

"I-I get it. I get it," Vince cut him off. He raised the glass to his lips, woefully glancing at a picture of a ravishing young woman from his past as he drank.

"Look. Vince, it's been years since Jen died. All I mean, brother, is, don't you think she'd want more for you than just–"

"Get out of here, Tommy," Vince spoke with a low, hoarse voice. "Go see Cleveland." Tommy simply shook his head in surrender as he left. The rockstar wiped a tear from his eye as he brooded about his self-destructive pattern. But he couldn't help it. His past came to haunt him every night and he'd stopped fighting long ago. It was a battle every day between his craving to escape this deep, dark pit of depression and the desire to just give in and let it take over him. It had just become more comfortable to lose. That night, however, something different happened. It started as innocently as flickering lights. All throughout the room, the dressers, the posters – none of it was spared from this sudden fluctuation in electromagnetism. It was the arrival of something powerful.

Vince ingenuously tapped at a light bulb just as the flickering stopped. Little did he know, that in the thin, silent air, something awaited him. He looked back to the photograph. Without so much as a breeze, it toppled over in front of him, causing him to flinch. He gasped, inching away in shock. _That was weird,_ he thought. _I must be losing it._ He just stood there for a moment, wondering if anything he was seeing was real. It was only when that thought occurred to him that he conceded that it could be the drink talking. Putting the thought out of his mind, he grabbed his jacket and belongings and retreated to the comfort of his hotel room.

There he was confronted with more reminders of his failures and misdeeds – framed pictures of Jen, in all her youth and beauty, sat atop a table, facing him as he entered. It only worsened the ache in his bones. Wallowing in self-pity, he approached the bathroom sink and studied himself in the mirror for a brief moment – those self-loathing green eyes – before he gathered up a handful of water and splashed it all over his face. What he hadn't noticed was the feeling of water thickening into something it wasn't supposed to be, something crimson and unholy. His own eyes stared back at himself in the mirror, catching the unnatural red colouration on his face. His heart almost stopped for a moment. The blood, it was uneven and streaked his entire face, thick droplets hanging in some places and thin, sticky layers in others. A short cry of horror escaped his lips as his eyes widened.

He backed away from the sink, not even caring to close the tap. His back leaned against the wall as he struggled to catch his breath, the effects of the alcohol wearing off quickly. _What the hell was that?_ He stood close to the wall as he peeked around the corner, gazing back into the pristine bathroom. The soft noise of clear water flowing was eerie, like a disaster waiting to happen, but as Vince observed, there was no evidence of any blood whatsoever. Even his face was clear, as he found out when he checked himself. _Great, I'm really losing it._

The feeling of being watched crept up his spine like an army of insects. Cautiously, he walked towards the living room. Then the lights flickered again, and a strange, uncanny rumbling noise sounded around him. His head felt light, like he could not think straight. There was something evil with him, his instincts seemed to tell him. Vince's hands scrambled to flip the light switch on and off again. _If only there was a switch for my sanity,_ a sardonic voice in his head said. _Boom!_ A deafening thunder sounded, accompanied by a blinding flash of lightning, causing him to jump. For some reason, he felt compelled to walk towards the TV and more thunder and lightning followed. The hairs on his skin began to stand on their ends, electrified by the sensation of something sinister in the room. He was beginning to worry if he had a bad case of paranoia or even schizophrenia.

The TV flickered on. A screen of pure static showed, as the room fell otherwise silent. " _Vince…"_ a feminine voice called out to him. But no one was there. " _Vince…_ " His hands scrabbled to get the phone and he tried to dial the front desk but as he desperately sought assistance, he found out that no one was there on the other end. It didn't even sound like the phone was working. Exasperated, he hurled the phone at the wall, shattering it. Again the voice called out his name. " _Vince…_ " This time, the photos levitated, leaving him to wonder why any of this was happening. The pictures flew about wildly, almost hitting him a few times. He backed into another room, closing the doors to the living room and shutting them resolutely.

"Vince!" the voice was more solid this time, and Vince looked up to see none other than his beautiful, dead girlfriend by the window. She looked as splendid as the day they'd met, wearing a skimpy pink dress that made her nothing less than luscious.

"No, Jen…" Vince's heart sank as he saw her. Lucifer did love playing with humans and their sad little minds. It gave him a thrill like no other to see their deepest fears and sorrows brought before them, like a payback for everything he'd been forced to confront by the Mark. What did humans know anyway? He had made friends with his darkness and found company in his inner monster – it was his respite. To make Vince experience his most profound emotion, however, was something he had no choice but to do. Lucifer needed to be needed, to make the pain go away, to be the refuge this human sought if he had to obtain a vessel. At this point, he became indifferent to who his vessel was; all the sympathy he had managed to muster for a human vessel had died when Sam Winchester drove him into the cage. Now it was just a matter of practical need. "How, why?" Vince asked, still sceptical of the sight before his eyes.

The marvellous Jen simply approached him, all smiles. "I needed to say I'm sorry. Swallowing those pills was selfish," the illusory woman confessed.

Vince began to tear up. "I've had to live all these years knowing how I treated you," his voice was choked with grief.

Her gaze hardened, forcing him to confront his mistake with a raw, unbridled judgment like he'd never experienced before. "At the time, leaving you seemed fair since you left me so many times," her saddened voice said.

Internally, he yielded to it. It was the emotional penance he had sought all these years. "All I want is you," he told her.

"That can happen, Vince," she moved closer to him.

"What can happen?" He wiped yet another tear from his eye.

"You and me together," she put her hands on his shoulders, comforting him as they had before so long ago.

The words felt so good to hear, yet scepticism raged within him to make sure this was real. "Are you a ghost?" he blurted out.

"No," her lips widened into a smile. "I'm an angel."

"Those are real?"

"Real and very powerful, Vince," her voice became serious again. She casually brushed away a strand of his hair with her finger. "I can take away your pain. Bring you peace. You only have to do one easy thing."

"What?" He was ready to give up his pain. This torment, it didn't have to be his anymore. He felt a glimmer of hope lighting up in his chest at the thought.

"Will you invite me in?" the woman asked, and that was all she needed to say.

"Yes," he replied with a relieved sigh. The performance ended. A bright light flashed as Lucifer took his human craft.

As he stood on the precipice of raining his devastation on humanity, the strings of loss tugged at his heart. It felt absurd moving on. It felt empty without Sophia by his side. Without his partner, his best friend, his confidante. Yet this made his fury more wrathful. She was also his anchor to true compassion – all that remained, anyway. In her absence, all the barriers he'd erected to keep the complete monstrosity that was his vengeance and aggression began to crumble. What would his plans be now? What was there to look forward to? Lucifer felt annoyed, more than anything else. He felt abandoned, just like he had when God refused to even talk to Him. He opened up his palm, gazing at the tiny vial of her essence. Then, he concentrated, trying to find a link in cosmic space. He'd tried this several times before, but for some reason, he couldn't feel her reaching back. Maybe what Khaos said _was_ true – maybe she had left him for good. _No,_ he shook his head. He didn't want to think of it. The only person who had ever stayed true to him all this time… But what else was he supposed to think?

"I'm destroying the world without you," he said out loud into that cosmic link, like it was a childish taunt meant to lure her back. "I'm telling you. I'll do it," he further challenged. "If you don't come clean with me…"

Though he knew better, he still expected something. Her voice, her aura, something. Again, he was disappointed when the line was silent. His lips pursed and his chin tightened. "If this is how you want to be…" As he stepped out of that hotel room, he stepped out of the realm of loss. He straightened up his shoulders, his eyes staring dead forward at the new future he needed to envision for himself. He buried his old hopes and dreams, finding this to be the only way to move on. _Devastation, here I come._ Finally, he was back and ready to stir some shit up.


	48. The Prince of Darkness

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 48: The Prince of Darkness**

(Lucifer POV)

 _ **Cleveland, Ohio – 14 August 2011, 5.13am**_

It was dark in the small apartment. Under the blue sheets lay an unsuspecting man in his mid-thirties by the name of Nathan, worn out by the stresses of normal, everyday life and sleeping soundly. As his mind neared the end of another cycle of deep sleep, his ears slowly became attuned to the ambient noises of the apartment – the rumbling in the heater which he needed to get fixed, the occasional car that cruised down the empty streets and the unchecked cat which knocked things over in the alley below. He unknowingly paid attention to all these sounds as he turned over to his side to nestle into a more comfortable position. Then there was something that didn't quite fit in. His eyebrows crinkled slightly as his mind suddenly became more alert. It sounded like… words. A voice. Who could that be?

His eyes reluctantly opened, spurred on by his piqued curiosity. Weariness tugged at his muscles as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. The words became clearer and he eased up a bit, recognising its static background to be from a radio. Still, he had an odd feeling. It was only when he opened the bedroom door and stared into the living room, lit only by a dim table lamp, that he realised that it was the radio in his own apartment which was switched on. It was the old radio that his father used to have around him all the time before he died and it was _really_ old – it still used an antenna. There it was, on the dining table, sat upright with the antenna pulled up. Sensing that something wasn't right, Nathan carefully inched towards the radio, keeping his eyes open for anything weird. _"You're listening to radio 66.6FM, playing only the hottest hits from the pinnacle to the pit. But before that, we want to hear about_ your _desires…"_ the voice from the radio wafted.

Light glinted off the engagement ring on his finger as his hands traced the dusty exterior of the radio until they found the 'off' switch and flicked it. Silence fell. Insects chirped in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow shift and he spun. Suddenly, he didn't feel safe anymore. His irises scanned the room intently, now wide awake. The hairs on the back of his neck stood. A 'click' sound was heard. _"I want to stab my aunt until she's lying in a pool of her own blood."_ Nathan flinched. The radio was switched on again. The voice was much deeper this time, not even sounding human.

" _Right on! Thank you for sharing that with us, caller,"_ a cheery voice that he recognised to be the RJ said. _"Up next we have Steve from Indiana. You're on, Steve. Tell us what you desire."_ Nathan had a sick feeling in his stomach as he stared at the radio again, unable to believe that it had just turned on by itself. His eyes were fixated on the dial as he heard what came on next.

" _I don't know man, sometimes I come home and I'm just by myself and then my mom walks in and all I can think about is ripping her guts out man. All I want is a pepsi but she won't give me my damn pepsi! I wanna bash her head in with a pepsi…"_ the caller confession ended.

" _Radical, my man. Go for it,"_ the RJ encouraged.

" _I'll do it right now, just you wait,"_ Steve continued. Inaudible murmurs sounded, along with the clanking of something metallic and then suddenly, sharp, feminine screams pierced the air.

" _You're a star, Steve,"_ the RJ commented, his voice drawling and becoming deeper as Nathan listened on. Then the radio only played static, like the signal had been lost. A shudder ran through his body. When he looked away from the radio, he realised that the room he was standing in was much darker… and redder than before. The table lamp glowed an intimidating shade of red, which began to alarm Nathan as he desperately tried to recall buying red lights and failed. An indistinct rumbling sounded and Nathan spun towards it. It seemed to come from the darkness at the end of the hallway – the bedroom. Chilled to the bone, Nathan grabbed a kitchen knife before slowly making his way into the dark abyss.

"H-hello? Who's there?" he called out, as they always do.

More rumbling followed. It resembled that of a lion which was threatening its prey before sinking its deadly teeth. Nathan's breaths grew shallow as he walked with the knife extended in front of him into the dark bedroom. There was something in there with him, he knew it. Several possibilities raced through his mind, none of them good. His animal instincts perked up, telling him that he was in danger. If it was a robbery, they wouldn't have woken him up with the radio. In adrenaline-pumped moments like these, one always tends towards the irrational and so did Nathan, as he mentally-prepared himself to fight off whatever came to disturb his peace at night. "Show yourself!" he demanded, though his trembling voice was evidence that he didn't want to see what the dark had in store for him.

The faintest glimpse appeared before him. A flashing of scarlet eyes. Nathan staggered backwards towards safety and as he looked around the room again, he couldn't discern the form of anyone with him. He slashed the air before him in a futile attempt to get the invisible creature. His body shivered even more, the fear of being murdered crawling through his skin like an army of insects. He feared that he would drop the knife if he didn't hold it in an iron grip. As he took a hesitant step forward towards the light switch, he felt a breath on the back of his neck and quickly spun around. He was just in time to make out the figure of a hand striking him as he instinctively moved to block the strike and stab whoever was in the darkness. The hands struggled and scratched at him as he pulled out the knife and stabbed the person again, and again, until he felt the sticky blood spilling all over his hands. The body fell limp onto the floor and the crimson liquid pooled around it as he knelt to get a better look at who it was.

He felt for the stranger's hand and traced it with his fingers as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. As he felt something unusual on the dead person's finger, he felt like his heart stopped. His eyes widened in realisation and he gasped. It was a ring. He scrambled to his feet and flicked on the light switch. "No, Evie, no!" he exclaimed as the weight of his actions pressed down on his shoulders. His chest tightened as he saw his dead fiancée lying on the floor, multiple stab wounds on her abdomen. "What have I done!" he began to bawl as he sank to his knees and stared absently at the blood on his hands.

Sat invisibly on the bed, Lucifer smiled, satisfied with his work. There was a great release in his chest, like he'd found some peace from what he had made happen. Another man driven insane by the loss of an important woman in his life. That was the third in just that one night. He didn't want to be so conspicuous at first, but the impulse was so strong and needed to be fed that he just couldn't resist. He needed someone to understand, someone to relate to, that he'd do anything to achieve that satisfaction, no matter how temporary. He'd thought about going back to Hell for a while, but he realised how much more fun it could be to remain as an unseen force of destruction on earth. He found it amusing to watch the looks of total shock and peril in these humans as he toyed with their lives, not killing them but making them wish they were dead. But really, he was procrastinating. The whole 'praising Satan' thing that demons had was kinda getting old. He didn't care much for being worshipped. Or was it _their_ worship that he grew tired of? He certainly craved attention, but the only person whose attention mattered had abandoned him.

Sighing, he got up and flew away, wandering the streets and the underground of various cities. In the darkness of the night and just before the crack of dawn, he always found the most curious, covert aspects of humanity surfacing in places where the ordinary-minded folk preferred not to go. He thought of it as doing research. He didn't have a plan yet, but his creative juices were tingling and he couldn't wait to come up with something as entertaining as it would be destructive. For this reason alone, he thought it wise to stay unnoticed by angels and demons alike. Perhaps, then, taking an ageing hair-metal rockstar as a vessel was not the best way to go about doing that. _It doesn't have to be boring,_ he told himself.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 15 August 2011, 7.33am**_

"Mornin' Sunshine," Dean greeted his younger brother, who looked like he had a nest of bees living in his hair. Dean pursed his lips as he regarded Sam's hair. "Dude…"

"Shut up," Sam cut him off. He knew that look in Dean's eyes, which always seemed to say, 'Get a damn haircut'. Sam drudged to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee before settling down in front of his brother at the table.

"Anyway, Bobby's got a case for us," Dean slipped printed articles across the table.

" _Teenager brutally murders aunt while whole family is sleeping",_ " _25-year old bashes in mother's skull with a pepsi can", "Man repeatedly stabs fiancée to death"_ – Sam's expression contorted into one of disgust and confusion as he skimmed through the articles. Other than the bizarre outbursts of violence, one thing all the cases had in common was the fact that the perpetrators themselves had called the police and turned themselves in. He looked at the date of all the articles. They were all arrested on the same day, all the reported incidents were within Cleveland and all the perps had no priors. In fact, they were upstanding citizens. _Definitely stinks of supernatural origin_ ,he thought. "What're we thinking? Demon possession?" he inferred.

"Looks like it," Dean answered.

"But Crowley…"

"Should this surprise us? We trusted a demon," Dean ranted, clearly already having considered Crowley's reassurance of revoking demons from the surface of the earth. "We gotta do what we gotta do, Sam. We'll work the case, and then we'll figure out what to do about Crowley."

Sam didn't pursue the conversation any further, though he foresaw where it was headed. Things were getting tight now that Lucifer was free and they needed all the help they could get to stop him. He simply nodded and got ready for the road trip.

 _ **Cleveland, Ohio – 17 August 2011, 10.25am**_

"I'm Agent Page, this is Agent Plant," Dean introduced as they flashed their fake FBI badges at the local police station.

"Hm…" an elderly police officer with a distinct white moustache studied them for a moment. "Why's the FBI interested in a few small-time murders?"

"We get orders, not reasons, Officer…" Sam studied the man's badge. "Williams."

"Boy do I know the feeling…" Officer Williams lamented, recounting his youth in the force. "Come on in."

As the officer let them into the restricted areas of the police department, the boys wasted no time in their preliminary investigation. "So, officer, did you notice anything weird about the case?" Dean probed. "Cold spots, sulfur?"

" _Sulfur?_ Why would there be sulfur?" the officer looked puzzled.

"Just some routine questions," Dean replied, flashing him an innocent smile.

"It seems like a regular case of undiagnosed crazy, if you ask me," the officer remarked. They came to a stop outside the interrogation room, in which a traumatised Nathan was seated and cuffed to the table. "According to his friends and family, he was the happiest guy they knew. He loved his girl and they were going to get married and everything and then this… happened. Just shows you how you can't tell who's crazy and who's not until it's too late, right?"

"Thanks, we'll take it from here," Sam nodded, watching the officer take his leave. As they both entered, they noticed Nathan's tear-streaked face and his weary brown eyes gazing at them. He shrank in his seat, clearly intimidated by the Winchesters' heights and muscular build, not to mention the cordial suits they wore as part of their disguise. "Nathan…"

"I did it," Nathan bluntly stated, voice choked with grief. "I know I did it and I'm going to jail for the rest of my life."

The Winchesters exchanged puzzled looks. "Okay, buddy, but what made you do it?" Dean asked.

"I… I…" Nathan's eyes were fixed on the table. "I don't know… It felt like a nightmare… and I don't know what got into me… but when I snapped out of it, I saw her… covered in blood…" An unobstructed tear fell from his eye. "I don't even understand it."

"Did you see or feel anything weird?" Sam asked.

Nathan sniffled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he told them, shaking his head in disappointment. "I think I'm going nuts."

"Try us," Dean said firmly.

Nathan regarded the both of them for a moment, studying their expressions for signs of mockery. Finding that there were none, he continued. "My dad's old radio… it just turned on all by itself. I got out of bed to turn it off and before I knew it, the whole apartment was covered in a strange red light… except for the bedroom. I thought I was alone at first but how could I? I was living with my fiancée and it was like I'd just forgotten about that completely! Then I heard a noise and I took a knife with me because I thought someone had broken into the house and that's when… that's when it happened." The poor guy was trembling by this point. "I stabbed the love of my life because I thought she was an intruder who had come to hurt me! What is wrong with me?" He began sobbing uncontrollably.

Sam's eyes softened. "Your dad's old radio, you said? Did you feel anything strange like… cold spots in the house when you got up to check the radio?"

"What? No…" More sniffling. "But the radio… there was a weird station I'd never even heard of playing. There were caller confessions where… oh God…" He frowned as he tried to recall what he'd heard on the radio. "One guy said he wanted to stab his aunt and another guy named Steve said… he said he wanted to kill his mother with a pepsi…" Sam gulped, recognising the stories to be those of the other headlines they'd read. Now they knew for sure that these cases were linked. The fact that there were no cold spots ruled out ghosts. And the police officer seemed to be sure that there was no sulfur so demons were an unlikely cause, which meant that they had nothing to go on.

"Nathan, we need you to tell us every single detail you remember," Sam requested, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.

"Why? It's probably just all in my head…"

"Humour us," Dean ordered. "Let's say we believe you. Tell us everything you saw, heard or even smelled."

Nathan hesitated. Sam, picking up on this, said, "Look, we know you're a good person. You have no history of criminal offences, not even a DUI. Everyone around you is just as confused as you are. So why don't you help us sort this out, and tell us your side of the story." Nathan nodded in understanding, and proceeded to tell them story from the beginning, with more detail this time. The boys intently listened, noting down details which they thought could be relevant. That was when something caught their attention. "Red eyes? Did you say you saw red eyes?"

"Yes. They came out of nowhere."

Sam and Dean briskly walked down the street to the car as they contemplated their next move. "That rules out demons," Sam sustained as they both pulled open the doors of the Impala and entered it.

"Don't be so sure," Dean was unconvinced.

"But there wasn't any sulfur," Sam argued.

"Could be a demon who cleans up after himself." Dean turned the key in the ignition, awaiting the warmth of the engine.

"What about the red eyes?"

"Crossroads demons have red eyes."

Just then, a new voice greeted them. "Didn't realise how much time you spent staring into my eyes, Dean. It's quite flattering, actually," the British voice said.

The boys jumped in their seats, turning abruptly to see their uninvited guest. "God!" Dean exclaimed. He hated being surprised by angels and demons. _Why couldn't they just call like normal people?_ he thought.

"No, it's Crowley," the demon replied with his usual suaveness. "Heard you boys were in town and I had to come check up on you myself. That's what friends do, right?"

"We are _not_ friends," Dean declared.

"So I take it you don't want help with the case?" Crowley's gaze flickered between the both of them, cleverly anticipating their response.

"The case? So it _is_ demons?" Sam pressed.

"Could be a rogue element within my kingdom but I assure you, I will rain Hell on whoever is doing this. King's promise," he held up two fingers in solidarity.

"Okay, you know what, I'm done with this," Dean rolled his eyes. "What game are you playing, huh?"

"I assure you, there is no-"

"Cut the crap. You know what I think? I think you've been lying to us this whole time," Dean spat out.

"Dean," Sam tried to stop his brother, caught off-guard by his sudden outburst.

"Think about it, Sam. It's been weeks since he said that Lucifer was free. But how many times have we actually seen the guy?" Dean stared daggers at Sam. The younger Winchester noticed that something was bothering him and it wasn't just the case, or Crowley. Dean's gaze returned to Crowley. "Hell, we've never even seen Sophia around. I think that maybe Satan's still in the cage. I think that maybe you're just trying to get the weapons from us and bolt. Well bad news, you ain't ever getting your hands on them."

"Are you done?" Crowley looked bored. "Have you ever thought that maybe you should be _grateful_ that you haven't seen either of them? I'm just as confused as the both of you that the two angels with the most pent-up anger are this quiet. You don't see me pointing fingers at anybody!" Shaking his head in disappointment, Crowley pulled out a file from his coat. "I've been doing my own reconnaissance lately. Had to keep it on the DL so that the demons don't flock to their returned Prince. You want proof that Lucifer's free? Here it is. You're welcome."

Dean's unrelenting scepticism showed on the lines on his forehead as he took the file and opened it. Inside were a bunch of photographs, all of rotting or decayed corpses. They looked like they were burnt from the inside, especially from the eyes, and some even had a greyish, ashen colour. "What's this supposed to tell us?"

"Lucifer's been vessel-hopping. Obviously, they couldn't contain him and we're left with a trail of burnt-out vessels," Crowley elaborated. "See, Satan is real."

Dean sighed in resignation as Sam quickly shifted the topic of conversation back to matters at hand. He, for one, didn't have much trouble believing that Lucifer would be free, after witnessing first-hand the lengths to which Sophia was willing to go in order to make that happen. "Alright, so what can you tell us about the case?"

"3 murders in one night, so we're probably looking at a group of demons operating at the same time," the demon replied.

"That's it? That's all you got for us?"

"I'm here to investigate treason within my own ranks, Samantha. I don't think they'd leave memos to update me on what they're doing," Crowley shot back.

"Then we're back to motive," Dean suggested. "What links the three murders?"

"Other than a flair for good bashing, I got nothing," he said.

"He means that this is the part where we talk to the families of the people involved," Sam explained.

"Ah," Crowley nodded. "I'll take pepsi can guy. I quite like his determination." Sam and Dean just stared at him. "What? Three murders, three of us, I'd say we're evenly split for this one. Chop chop, fellas, we don't have all day."

"Nuh-uh, no way. You're not doing this on your own," Dean ordered, still untrusting of the demon. "You're coming with me. Sam will meet us later at the motel." Despite Crowley's sighs of protest, the trio split just as Dean described.

* * *

(Lucifer POV)

 _ **Cleveland, Ohio – 17 August 2011, 12.50pm**_

"Dude, it's noon. Let me in," Tommy knocked on the door to Vince's hotel room. The door swung open and Tommy came face-to-face with a brand new man. "Whoa, look at you." He walked in, still in awe of what he was seeing. Lucifer was wearing a fitting leather jacket with pants to match and it gave his vessel a whole new look, like he was ten years younger. "Pretty dressed up for rehearsal, don't you think?"

"Rehearsal…" Lucifer repeated, playing around with the idea in his head. There was a gig tonight, his vessel's memory showed him. Rehearsal was when they practised the same old songs for the concert. _Meh._ Music wasn't really his thing – it was Sophia's. She always loved singing. He exhaled belatedly, deciding that _rehearsal_ wasn't really the best use of his time. He didn't want to be reminded of her at this point. He just wanted to smash things that resembled her.

"Brother, are you okay?" Tommy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Lucifer didn't even realise he was in a daze until then.

"Yeah, I just can't make it to rehearsal," he stated, nonchalant.

Tommy frowned. "You got better plans?"

"I do," a mischievous glint shone in the archangel's eyes.

"Vince, I'm serious."

"So am I." Lucifer took a few steps towards the window, looking out at the wealth of opportunities the earth had to offer him.

"Alright, look, stop screwing around." Tommy, unsettled by his friend's demeanour, grabbed him by the shoulder. That was a mistake. Lucifer jerked toward the human, infuriated by his action. _Get your hands off me, you disgusting mortal!_ In that moment of quick temper, Lucifer's eyes glowed red as he seized Tommy by his shirt and flung him backwards, breaking the fragile wooden door in the process. Wood shards littered the hallway as Tommy lay still for a moment, unable to believe what he had just experienced.

"I said I had plans," Lucifer said, undeterred. A sinister smile formed on his face as he walked past the human sprawled on the ground. Invisible again, he roamed the streets. He opened up his senses, looking for a very particular kind of signal. All these wavelengths of humans thinking and praying, focusing on certain kinds of divine concepts, filtered through his mind. Suddenly, a wave of prayers to his father washed over him and he turned to see where it was coming from. His face contorted with disgust. A church was nearby. Scoffing, he took off in the opposite direction. Then, finally, he heard the faintest whisper.

" _We invoke thee, O Dark Lord. Hear our prayer,"_ the voice said. Lurking in the darkness, the archangel approached the four devotees. He found them assembled in the basement of a shared house, shrouded in dark robes and standing around a ritual set-up. There was a pentacle drawn on the table, with candles placed around it and other materials. " _Attend now my calling and show thyself, Lucifer!"_

Lucifer simply frowned, remaining in the back of the room. He was a little… let down. The ritual set-up was amateur at best, there was no sacrifice or even bloodshed, and their prayer basically demanded he arrive. _You demand me, human?_ The shrouded people looked around themselves briefly. "Well, where is he?" one of them asked.

Under another hood, glossy pink lips burst out into laughter. "This is ridiculous, Larry," she said. "We just look stupid." _You're right about that,_ Lucifer thought.

"Just hold on a second," the one they called Larry rushed to speak. "We're just not concentrating hard enough."

"You know what," the third one sighed. "I only came down here because I was bored. This is lame." She pulled down the hood, removing the robe. The others agreed and began to take their own robes off too.

"Wait, guys, wait," Larry insisted, beckoning them to stop with his hands. "We can try something else. Maybe another spell? Scott?"

Larry looked to Scott for support. The ginger simply shrugged. "Dude, you asked us to do this stupid ritual with you and we did. But Sheryl's right. It's kinda lame," he admitted. "But you can still have your Goth street cred."

Larry looked dejected. As though to rub salt into the wound, the girl with the lip gloss spoke again. "Yeah, Larry. And you bought that book on Ebay for like five dollars! What did you think was gonna happen?" She burst into a reverberating laughter.

"Magick _can_ work, Gina!" Larry argued. That didn't stop Gina's mockery.

"Oooh lookie here, we're gonna make a deal with the Devil. Ooh I'm _soo scared!_ " she taunted.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. The lights flickered, drawing the kids to a silence. As they all turned up to look at the ceiling lights, Lucifer appeared in between one moment of light and the other. "Oh, but you will be," the archangel said to them, amidst gasps.

"But you," Scott gaped. "You're… you're Vince Vincente! My mom loves you!" Lucifer rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist, instantly snapping the kid's neck. Sheryl's scream pierced the air, suddenly bringing the others to terms with the reality of the being before them.

"N-No way…." Larry stuttered, his breaths becoming heavier. "Y-You're r-real… Really… real…"

"Here's the thing, kids," Lucifer began in a disappointed but instructive tone. "Your magic is too basic to work. You're lucky I was in the area. But to make it work… you're going to need to charge the set-up first with energy." Lucifer made appear two knives appear on the table with a flourish of the hand. "Usually in the form of blood or sacrifice."

"W-What are you d-doing?" Sheryl asked, hands trembling as she eyed the curved ritual blades.

"Tell you what, if any two of you can band together and kill the last person, I'll give you anything you want," he laid out.

"No way, man," Sheryl shook her head. "That's cr-crazy." She looked to her two companions, who were themselves pale and frozen to the spot.

Gina nodded, muttering words of agreement. "Yes… sir… we ain't doing that…" Her hand traced the lining of her robe, cautiously looking for an opening to reach into the back pocket of her pants and pull out a cell phone, all while making her movement slow as to not trigger a reaction from the large man before them.

"If no one kills anyone, you all _die_ ," Lucifer said sharply, making them flinch. Larry, however, studied the knife, tracing the hilt and picking it up with a hand. "So what's it gonna be, Larry?" The archangel observed the black-haired kid, seeing as he had been the first to consider the offer.

"Larry… _what_ are you doing?" Gina glared at him, half in fear and half in disbelief. Was he really going to do it?

Larry's gaze slowly moved up to meet hers and for a moment she could not imagine what must be running through his mind. He inhaled deeply, preparing himself for what he was about to do. "The right thing…" With a swift swing of the arm, he spun and plunged the knife into Lucifer's abdomen, ready to come to terms with stabbing another person. Gina gasped, her shoulders jerking. A brief glimmer of hope lighted in his chest to see the blade buried in his body and blood pouring forth. _I did it,_ he thought, until he looked up to see the unmoved figure of Lucifer. The archangel was emotionless, his eyes bearing into Larry's with a bored but vexed intensity.

Larry stepped back hesitantly but Lucifer's gaze was fixated on him. A sick feeling stirred in the pit of the kid's stomach as he felt his end nearing. They watched as Lucifer pulled out the knife like it was nothing to him. Feeling time grow short, Gina hurried to pull out her phone, her finger scrambling to unlock it. "If you're what's left of my following on earth…" Lucifer hissed. Instantly, he reached out grabbed Larry by his neck, igniting him. Sheryl screamed again as she watched her friend combust, flames reaching into the ceiling. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air. She staggered backwards as Lucifer briskly began towards her, closing the gap between them. Her screams were stifled by his iron grip which crushed her throat before he violently bashed her skull against a pillar again and again and again until blood poured out from all her facial orifices and her skull became deformed.

Meanwhile, Gina took cover behind a couch, struggling to control her frightened heavy breathing. With shaky fingers, she dialled 911. As her phone rang, it dawned on her how quiet the room became. She froze. Her eyes roved over the ground in front of her, finding a pair of leather boots. Her head jerked up and her voice got stuck in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes as she begged for mercy. Shadows danced on the wall as she dropped her phone. " _911, what's your emergency?"_ a voice asked on the other end of the line. There was a scream and then a noisy splattering of blood on the walls. " _Hello? What's the emergency? Are you okay?"_

Lucifer looked around the silent room, disappointment still weighing on him. He felt insulted that these cowardly, conformist children would dare even utter his name, let alone try to summon him. Fondly, he remembered Zara. Her ritual was amateur too, but he felt her spirit calling to him with such force and determination that it surprised him. And when he had asked her to leave everything behind and help him, she had done so. Despite her futile attempts at escaping later, she had always shown courage in facing uncertainty, which was something he could respect. The sound of his boots echoed as he stepped over the dead bodies and approached the table. There he found the rip-off spell book, full of nothing but try-hard invocations and instructions. He studied its back, finding a small inscription – Church of Satan, it said. "Hm. This better be good."

Following the address, he found himself in front of a well-furbished establishment. As he approached the front desk, the receptionist suppressed a gasp as she looked at him. "Is this the Church of Satan?" Lucifer asked her, flashing a warm smile.

"Uh…" she giggled nervously. "Yes it is… uh… Vince." She immediately got up, extending a hand towards him. "Nice to meet you. I'm a fan."

Lucifer obliged, shaking her hand. "It would seem so…" he remarked as he read the words in large font above her desk that read 'Church of Satan'.

"What can I do for you?" the blonde lady asked, captivated by the man standing before her.

"I read one of your books…" he held up the spell book. "And I was interested to learn more about what it is that you do here."

"Oh," she chuckled. "I could show you around."

"Yes, that would be lovely, uh…" He looked at her nametag. "Harley."

The excited receptionist didn't hesitate in leaving her post, seeing as they didn't get many visitors on a weekday. Eagerly, she led him down the hallway. "So here we have the Eleven Satanic Rules and the Nine Satanic Sins," she showed him a large wooden board with words inscribed in gold font.

"Who taught you all of this?" he asked as he read through all the statements. They seemed fair enough, but they lacked a certain… call to action that he'd hoped to inspire.

"Our church was founded by the late Anton LaVey, who authored many books on Satanism and laid out these rules and sins as the core of our philosophy," she explained, pointing to a picture of LaVey himself on the wall. They then moved into the altar room, where there were rows of benches just like you'd find in a church. In the front hung an inverted crucifix with a statue of the Baphomet poised in front of it. Inverted pentagrams were drawn on the pillars. "This is where we congregate for Sunday Mass. We perform our own rituals here, focusing on self-improvement." Lucifer wasn't sold. _A Baphomet, really?_ This was starting to look more and more like something people would do to feel like they were participating in something bigger when in fact, it meant nothing. Especially since the symbols and sigils they used weren't being used correctly. Some didn't even deserve a place in a shrine of his worship!

"These rituals… Were they also designed by this LaVey?" he asked.

"They were," she nodded. "He was a talented and brilliant man, rest his soul." _Rest is the last thing he deserves, if this is the shoddy work he puts up in_ my _name!_ "Not to worry, the rituals don't actually involve any sacrifices or anything like that. The Church of Satan doesn't condone violence in any manner and we are frequently misunderstood in that regard," she reassured him, though it achieved the opposite effect.

Lucifer simply seemed puzzled, a visible frown forming on his face. "Why not?"

"Well…" Harley herself was confused at the question. She wondered for a moment whether he was being serious, but the answer to that question was well-explored in their doctrine. "Sacrifice implies a belief in a supernatural being to whom we can transact a service from. We here in the Church of Satan don't believe in supernatural beings. We are atheists."

"Seriously? None of you _actually_ worship Satan?"

"No, that would be foolish and would convince Christians that their fanciful doctrine is actually right! Satan is merely a symbol for pride and liberty," she elaborated, proud of representing her organisation.

"Then what's the point of this place?" Lucifer crossed his arms, admittedly wounded by what he had just heard. He felt a mixture of despair, rage and disgust all at once. What kind of an impression was he leaving on Earth if this was what his supposed followers were doing?

"This church exists merely to oppose and spite the Abrahamists and our rituals are a form of therapy for our members. By engaging in a hyper-reality where magic is seen as real for a short moment, we are focusing our will on the goals we want to achieve and strengthening our resolve to achieve them. Our congregation also encourages our members to pursue their worldly desires in abundance because we don't believe in the afterlife." _So… a lot of mindless indulgence in sex and drugs, then?_

Lucifer nodded slowly as he pondered on what she said. His mind still wondered about the rituals. It all seemed so ridiculous to him. "Not even an animal sacrifice?" he asked, eliciting another confused glare from Harley.

"No…" she shook her head, puzzled but still trying to maintain a courteous demeanour. "Most of us are vegan."

 _Vegan?_ He huffed. _I must rid the world of this pansy-filled abomination at once!_ He nodded shortly, breaking into a smile. "So there's Sunday Mass, you said?"

"Yes, every Sunday at 10am," she answered, encouraged by his smile. "If you sign up to be a member today, you can attend this Sunday's one. Membership fee is $200." _You've got to be kidding. You're charging for membership? You're no better than the Christian establishment, soliciting monetary favours for a superficial experience of spirituality!_

"I need to think about it," he said, already formulating a plan to massacre them as they all gathered here. It became high-priority on his to-do list. He wanted to make an example of them. "But thank you, Harley, for the wonderful tour." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, her pleased giggle becoming a contrasting prelude to what would be her screams of terror as he dragged her down the basement of the building and ripped her throat out. As he stood over her bloody corpse, he ruminated despondently on the lack of spiritual support he was receiving from the earth. _How does Sophia deal with being so unknown?_ he wondered. Something had to be done about this. Humans either trust God too much or fear the Devil too little, he realised. There used to be an abundance of energy generated by the mere fear of him that spread throughout the Middle Ages like a plague. It was so strong that he could feel it from the cage but now, that feeling was rapidly fading away. He needed a way to harvest all of that energy stored in the human ability to form egregores or thought-forms, a kind of unconscious magic that all humans performed. If he had that, he could become stronger and unstoppable.

That was when he remembered. _The gig tonight._ "Lucifer, you're a rockstar," he told himself. He broke out into a wide grin and smirked.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Cleveland, Ohio – 17 July 2011, 6.48pm**_

Back at the motel, Sam and Dean compared notes over dinner. "Hey, where's Crowley?" Sam asked as Dean started hungrily ravishing his box of Chinese takeout.

"He went off," Dean's voice was muffled by the noodles overflowing from his mouth. He paused to chew and swallow before elaborating. "He said he'd check his 'sources' to speed up our progress because we were going at "snail's pace". What a self-righteous prick." Stirring his noodles with a chopstick, he shook his head. "Anyway, there's no consistent MO. We don't have jack shit to go on," Dean ranted.

"I wouldn't say that. All three men murdered women they admired or loved. That's something," Sam argued.

"That's about as useful as a pixelated porno, Sam. The victims and the perps are not even in the same age group. We don't even know how this thing is picking out its targets," Dean continued. "Hell, we don't even know how many demons are involved."

A 'beep' noise interrupted their conversation. It was Dean's phone, ringing with a message from Crowley. " _House of Blues, 9pm,"_ it read.

"Hey, look," Dean showed Sam the message. "Looks like we got something after all."

Sam's eyebrows crinkled as he remembered something. "House of Blues?" He checked the date on his phone. "Isn't Vince Vincente playing there tonight?"

Dean gave him a quizzical expression. "Vince Vincente? The hair-metal guy? How do you even know that?"

"Well…" Sam stuttered. "It's all over Facebook."

"Right… I expected better from you, Sammy."

"Oh come on. That third album wasn't so bad."

"Seriously?" Dean's face contorted into an expression of disgust. "As an older brother, it's my duty to make sure you don't listen to pop garbage, Sam. Hand over that Walkman."

"It's 2011, Dean. No one uses a Walkman anymore." Sam sighed.

Later, the Winchesters got out of the Impala in front of the House of Blues. Shouts of excitement sounded from the inside. It was a full house that night with all kinds of fans, young and old, waiting to see the famed Vince Vincente. Eyes skimming over the stocky bouncers, the boys decided to sneak around the back. Flashing their FBI badges, they got in with relative ease, gliding down the hallways with their eyes peeled for anything unusual. Dean dropped a text to Crowley, asking where he was. But there was no sign of the demon anywhere. Their keen hunter instincts perked up as they scoured the various rooms, finding only rusted equipment and dressing rooms. "Dean," Sam called out as he spotted something.

They both stepped cautiously towards the door leading to the backstage, guns cocked and ready to fire. As Sam held watch, Dean checked the bodies, putting two fingers to their carotid arteries. "Dead," he concluded. "Dude, what's going on here?"

Sam exhaled slowly, just as confused by the sight before him as his brother. "Where's Crowley? He said he'd be here, right?"

Dean shrugged, checking his phone again. A loud wave of muffled cheering sounded through the door. It was the concert, almost about to begin. _"Vince, Vince, Vince!"_ they chanted his name. _These rockstars sure love hearing their own names_ , Dean thought with disgust. A scream pierced the air. The boys jerked towards the noise. It came from behind the door. As Sam prepared to rush in, Dean instinctively held his younger brother back. A bright flash of light came from the small gap between the door and the ground and they just looked at it in horror. They immediately recognised it to be angelic. A chorus of screams sounded and then slowly faded to silence. Tension was thick in the air as the brothers exchanged shocked glances and then advanced together to the backstage.

It was dark, the only light being the one filtering in from the stage through the curtains. Amidst the trail of dead bodies of the staff working the night, the Winchesters hurried to the stage. A deep, maniacal laugh echoed, amplified by the mic. "Feels good to stretch my wings," he said to no one in particular.

As they rushed, guns blazing, onto the stage, they were greeted by the sight of one man alone. "Vince?" Sam called out at the man, who was standing with his eyes closed and arms outstretched like he was receiving from the heavens.

Lucifer opened his eyes and straightened up, turning towards the interruption. "Oh look, it's Beavis and Butt-Head," he said. "Come to join the party, boys?"

He gestured towards the rest of the hall. There lay piles upon piles of bodies with their eyes burnt out, extending throughout the hall. There were approximately 600 dead, as Sam estimated. It chilled him to the bone. That's when things started making sense for him. The red eyes, angelic grace, the burnt-out eye sockets of the dead, "radio 66.6FM" as Nathan described – he realised who it was standing before him. "Lucifer," he recognised, much to the shock of his brother. His limbs grew weak, remembering his time from the cage. He'd struggled so much to put it all out of his mind, not including the time he'd been walking around with a fragmented soul. Now it was all coming back to him like a tidal wave. Inside, he felt a growing sense of impending doom.

"The one and only," the archangel tugged at his jacket, posing obnoxiously. "You know, I'd really love to chat with you, Sam. Using my fists." Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer knocked Dean backwards and grabbed Sam by his collar, tossing the younger Winchester around. "There's a lot you need to answer for. Unless, of course, you want to say a little three-letter word. Then we'll be even."

Sam used his elbows to prop himself up, tasting blood in his mouth. His vision was all blurry but he could make out the figure of Lucifer walking towards him ominously. "Never," he spat out. "Even Sophia couldn't break me. I'll never give you my consent again."

"Oh, I heard about that," Lucifer picked Sam up again, holding his face close. "She's screwed up a lot of things lately. But you know what, I can do without her. It's you that I really need. And I don't intend to repeat her mistakes." Lucifer pulled back an arm, ready to strike.

"Hey assbutt!" Dean yelled. Lucifer turned to look at him, puzzled by the expression. Dean slammed a bleeding palm against an angel-banishing sigil. With a bright flash of light, the archangel was expelled, leaving only the Winchesters to catch their breaths.

Narrowly escaping with their lives, the Winchesters headed back to the motel. "At least now we know that Crowley wasn't lying about Lucifer," Sam remarked.

"Damn right I wasn't," the demon showed up, uninvited.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean explained, drawing out his angel blade and pointing it at Crowley. "Where were you?"

"I was in the general vicinity," Crowley nonchalantly responded. "I thought you boys would have it under control." When they didn't relent, the demon sighed. "I gave you the location. I didn't say I was coming."

"Wait a second," a thought occurred to Sam. "Did you know what we were getting into? Did you _know_ that Lucifer was possessing Vince Vincente?"

Crowley held Sam's gaze for a moment. "I was… testing a theory," he confessed.

"You used us as bait!" Dean exclaimed, ready to carve some sense into him.

"No, I confirmed my suspicions. And I knew the both of you would make it. You're… persistent that way, like a tumour," he dismissed. Crowley held out his arms to beckon them to let up. "So? Are we gonna discuss this or what?"

Reluctantly, Dean lowered his weapon and Sam did the same. "Talk," Dean ordered.

"Lucifer has no plan."

"Well he killed an upwards of 600 people without a plan," Sam announced.

"You sent us face-first to the Devil and that's all you got?" Dean became flustered.

"Oh and he's acting all alone. No Sophia, no son. We can all rest easy," Crowley said.

"Oh yeah I'll sleep like a baby," Dean retorted, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "How are you so sure he's acting alone anyway?"

"Dean," Sam began. "He said, 'I can do without her.' And he sounded kinda pissed when I mentioned her name. I think Crowley's right. Sophia's not with him."

"Thank you, Moose," Crowley adjusted the collar on his shirt.

"This just leaves us back at square one. What do we do now?" Sam asked.

"We follow the plan," Crowley answered. "Bust out the weapons of Heaven, hit him with all we've got."

"What's that gonna do? He won't die easy," Dean rebutted.

"It'll weaken him. If we can't kill him or trap him yet, this is the next best thing." Crowley seemed quite sure of himself. Perhaps a little too sure.

* * *

(Crowley POV)

The sound of heels clanking echoed in the hallway as Crowley waited for the person he wanted to see. He was in a regal office, among wooden furniture and an assortment of interesting, classified materials. There was a map of the USA sprawled on a large table at the centre, with all kinds of markings and notes attached to it. Laid on the map were a few files with a tell-tale emblem on all of them, denoting the institution they belonged to. There were photos on all the files, clipped to the front, of faces that Crowley recognised – Sam, Dean, some other hunters and even Zara. The footsteps stopped abruptly at the door and a stifled gasp was audible. "Crowley," the woman greeted. "You could have made an appointment."

Crowley turned to her, giving the lady a furtive smile.

* * *

A/N:

I had a lot of fun writing Lucifer's POV. We'll see a lot more of that soon enough. I hope the first scene was as good as what you'd expect of a "first five minutes of Supernatural" scene.

My portrayal of the LaVeyan Church of Satan is partly fictitious. While they _are_ atheists and believe in self-empowerment, they do not conduct mass rituals or Sunday Mass or advocate hedonism. They are actually Epicureans, which means they believe in pursuing pleasure as an absence of pain and fear; they believe that 'sober reasoning' and indulgence but wise restraint is the path to pleasure. Also they don't actually have a church-like setting, if I'm not wrong. I also don't mean to hate on vegans or anything. Just think about what the Prince of Darkness would be like. Anyway, point is, Lucifer is pissed at them for being really lame and not hardcore enough.

So… that ending. Can you guess where Crowley's at? You get ten internet points if you can guess where he is and twenty if you can tell who he's talking to. Bonus if you try to guess what he's there for, depending on how accurate you are (I won't hold it against you if you can't get this one).

I've also just started college and things have been getting _really_ hectic for me. I barely have time to sit down some days… I have more chapters written so I'll still be able to post regularly for a while but my writing speed has slowed down so much because of all the work I have to do so I apologise in advance if I can't make it on time on some days! Thanks for your continued support :)


	49. The Confrontation

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 49: The Confrontation**

 _Previously on Sophia's Chronicles…_

 _Lucifer: I'm an angel._

 _Vince: Those are real?_

 _Lucifer: Real and very powerful, Vince… Will you invite me in?_

 _Vince: Yes._

 _.._

 _Nick: You need me to say 'yes' to Lucifer again?_

 _Zara: Yeah_

 _Nick: All I'm asking for is to have some time to spend living my life before I give it all away to Lucifer. And I want you here with me._

 _.._

 _Crowley: Guess who's King again._

 _Dean: Demons are still demons. And you didn't live up to your end of the deal._

 _Crowley: Dean, you squirrel. We're still on the same team. Just in case they decide to come back, we're going to need to fight them. Together. With those weapons… Fine, I'll issue a stand-down order. No more demons you need to worry about._

 _Dean: Alright. Just find the archangels quickly so that we can go back to killing each other._

 _.._

 _Crowley: Lucifer has no plan._

 _Sam: Well he killed an upwards of 600 people without a plan… So what do we do now?_

 _Crowley: We follow the plan. Bust out the weapons of Heaven, hit him with all we've got._

 _Dean: What's that gonna do? He won't die easy._

 _Crowley: It'll weaken him. If we can't kill him or trap him yet, this is the next best thing._

 _.._

 _Now…_

* * *

(Crowley POV)

The sound of heels clanking echoed in the hallway as Crowley waited for the person he wanted to see. He was in a regal office, among wooden furniture and an assortment of interesting, classified materials. There was a map of the USA sprawled on a large table at the centre, with all kinds of markings and notes attached to it. Laid on the map were a few files with a tell-tale emblem on all of them, denoting the institution they belonged to. There were photos on all the files, clipped to the front, of faces that Crowley recognised – Sam, Dean, some other hunters and even Zara. The footsteps stopped abruptly at the door and a stifled gasp was audible. "Crowley," the woman greeted. "You could have made an appointment."

Crowley turned to her, giving the lady a furtive smile. "I didn't think such formalities were necessary between us, Dr Hess," the demon smirked.

"Why are you here? I thought our current arrangement in Britain was acceptable," Dr Hess said, walking over to him cautiously.

"Oh it is. Don't doubt it. As I see from this…" he gestured towards the map. "You have your eyes on the US of A as well."

"We _are_ looking to… _renew_ our presence there, yes," she admitted. "We can work out a similar arrangement there as well. I'm assuming that is what you're here for?"

"Not exactly, though I appreciate the commitment to our cooperation. I need something from you. A spell. I hear you've been experimenting with angels these days."

"All with your generous help, of course," she gave him a short nod in acknowledgement. What ulterior motive could the King of Hell possibly have to request help from her? she wondered, though she immediately dismissed the thought. So long as he held up his end of their arrangement to take only the souls of people stupid enough to sell them, the director of the British Men of Letters would have no problem with the King of Hell. "What kind of spell?"

"We'll discuss the details later. But first, let's talk Terms and Conditions. I have something to offer in return, of course." Crowley pointed to a picture on the table. "I can give you that. Thought you might be interested."

"Even we've been unable to locate-"

"I'm Crowley," he cut her off. "I can get anything. All I need from you is a very particular kind of spell. Do we have a deal or not?"

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Bobby's House, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 19 August 2011, 7.35pm**_

Dean's heart sank as he read the headline on the front page of a newspaper. " _658 dead at Cleveland rock concert – Deadliest massacre in US history, next to 9/11,"_ it read. Dean's eyes skimmed over the article, picking out small details that made his knowledge of what had happened more depressing. " _Authorities suspect biochemical warfare… cause unknown… Singer Vince Vincente missing… Candlelight vigil being held…"_ He just gave up and put down the newspaper, unable to read any more of the tragedy that had taken place right under their noses.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Sam advised as he settled down next to his brother.

"We should have done something, Sammy," he lamented as he took a swig of his beer.

"I know." Sam was just as distraught as his brother. In all their lives, they had always been able to do _something_ to defeat evil. They had always found comfort in the fact that their work saved people and did something to fight back against the evils of the world. But the most horrible feeling they had both felt was learning about the existence of something worse than all the monsters they'd seen – the Devil. The very face of evil. And they were mostly helpless in front of it. "We can't let this stop us. We'll find something, Dean. We always have."

Dean nodded. "For all our sakes, I hope you're right."

As they both enjoyed a moment of silence, the sound of a ring of keys being set on the table snapped them both out of their dazes. They looked up to see Bobby standing over them. "We'll mourn them later. Right now we need to get the nukes." Dean eyed the keys, remembering the immense power behind the door that the keys opened. He desperately hoped that the Heavenly weapons would be enough to, as Crowley said, weaken Lucifer. But what then? They needed a plan to permanently lock him up. Without one, it was the apocalypse again. Dean felt weariness tug at his muscles. It felt like they'd just gotten a breather after the apocalypse, after Purgatory, after Sophia, and now they were thrown back into it again like whatever they'd done made no difference. At the back of his mind, concern flared at the thought of Sam taking on Lucifer again and jumping into the cage. He didn't know if he had it in him to deal with the loss of his brother again.

"Where to?" Sam asked. They had entrusted Bobby with the job of hiding the weapons. Guy sure knew how to keep monsters out – just look at the panic room he built over a free weekend.

"Duluth, Minnesota," the older man answered. "53 Cottonsage Avenue. Give the door a rough push after you unlock it. And watch out for the trip wires. Maybe I should write this down…" He felt the pockets on his vest for a pen.

"Wait, wait, Bobby," Dean held up a finger. "You're coming with, right?"

"I've got some business to attend to," he replied as he pulled out a blue ballpoint pen and picked up a notepad from his table.

"Are you… gonna tell us?" Dean probed.

"If it amounts to anything, I will," Bobby replied. He avoided making eye contact with them, which slightly unsettled the boys. "If you really need to know, I got a lead on our archangel problem. But it ain't much. You boys go ahead, I'll catch up."

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised but worried looks. "That's… that's great, Bobby," Sam said, looking hopeful. "We could come help you out."

"Yeah, sounds important," Dean added.

"No, I got th-" The sound of a phone ringing interrupted their conversation. "If you'll excuse me…" Bobby fished out his phone and went outside to take the call, while the boys simply watched him leave.

"Is it just me, or is he acting a little weird?" Dean asked his brother.

"Yeah, something's up. But it's Bobby, Dean. If he says he wants to work a lead alone, I say let him," Sam answered.

"Yeah but… how whack does this lead gotta be that he won't even tell us much about it?" Dean challenged.

"Dude," Sam exhaled slowly. "Why're you making a big deal out of this? He said he'll tell us if he gets something."

"I don't know, Sammy. I just have a weird feeling about this." Dean fidgeted with the label on his beer as he contemplated why he felt the way he did.

"What's up with you? Lately you've been so… on-edge. And it's not just Lucifer, is it?"

"I… uh…" Dean slowly shook his head, self-analysing. He just felt the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes and he didn't know where to begin. Just then, the door swung open and Bobby returned. "Everything okay?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing," Bobby waved it off, not bothering to elaborate on his mysterious phone call. "You boys better hit the road first thing in the morning."

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 19**_ _ **August 2011, 6.42pm**_

Their lips parted. They both panted heavily, holding each other close. The relief of their intimacy washed over them in a cool wave throughout their bodies, though both of them felt heat emanating where they pressed against each other. Still, they remained in proximity, unwilling to sever the emotional bond forged between them by their passionate and energetic love-making. Nick traced her forearm with a finger until he reached her palm and intertwined their fingers. Zara's other hand rubbed his back, stroking the back of his shoulder and neck. There were things she wanted to say but words could not describe the feelings she had. She had this overpowering feeling that every inch of her felt for him – like his arms were where she was meant to be this whole time. She closed her eyes, drowning in the ocean of his warmth. She was absolutely overwhelmed, unable to even form coherent thought – the only thing that made sense were her feelings for him. The sensation of his cheek against hers sent an ecstasy through her body that made her so satisfied that _death_ seemed palatable; nothing else could come _close_ to making her feel so safe and contented.

No other thoughts occurred to her in moments like these, when Nick would come home and they would just sustain small conversations until after dinner. Though their dialogue conveyed normal talk of work and other happenings, their suggestive gazes would look forward to an entirely different reality in which they spoke with kisses and wrote poetry on each other's bodies. He was like an addiction she could not kick. That night, however, was different. They went at it harder and rougher than they ever had, pushing each other to the boundaries of pain and pleasure combined into one. There were marks all over both of them as evidence of that. There was a reason to this madness, of course – their time was up. The month was over and they both knew it.

They both sat up, passing a cigarette between each other as words were unspoken between them. "I'm ready," Nick finally said, when their heartbeats returned to a normal pace.

Zara inhaled the foul-tasting fumes as she replayed those words over and over in her head. "I'm not," she replied, her tone monotonous and unclear as to her emotions. Nick turned to face her, only to find her brown eyes gazing straight ahead. He studied her expression but derived nothing from it.

"You don't have much of a choice, do you?" he said, unsettled by her inaction.

"Does it really matter? Does it matter what we do?" she asked. Reluctance gnawed at her.

Nick sighed. "We've both been in bed with two of the most powerful beings in existence, quite literally. I'd think it matters," he mused. "Zara," he took her hand in his. "We shouldn't anger Lucifer more than we probably already have."

"This isn't our fault, Nick," she argued. "Why should we have to pay for Sophia's sins? Why should I…" her voice became choked with grief. She knew why she had to – she had chosen this commitment. Yet, she just couldn't bring herself to accept it.

"This is bigger than the both of us," he reasoned. "It'll only be easier if we both play our parts." _Bigger than both of us._ That's exactly what Zara had told herself the day she'd met him. Only now did she realise that she was a fool for ever thinking that this mission could be so straightforward.

"The world isn't ending this time," she protested.

"Zara…"

"There's no 'big plan' out there for us anymore," she said, desperately trying to find an excuse.

"That's not why we became vessels. We did it because we needed help."

"We don't now! We have each other," her eyes begged him to agree. His eyes, on the other hand, held nothing but sympathy.

"Don't we? Don't _you_?" he shot back, recalling his ever-present state of despair. He knew he wasn't well in the head. And he knew that Zara wasn't either. What could the world possibly offer the both of them? "You're not doing well, Zara. You act like you're okay but you're really not. Sometimes you look like you're one breakdown away from suicide! And do I even need to bring up the coke?"

"The coke?" she exhaled in shock and her eyebrows crinkled into a frown. "How do you know about that?"

"I've known," he began, though no judgment shone from his eyes. He remained as sympathetic to her as he could. "For a while now. You need help, Zara. Divine or unholy intervention, it doesn't matter. But I _know_ that Lucifer would help you. Just let me do what I must."

She shook her head, her eyes becoming glassy. "It's not like that. I… I haven't done the coke. And I'm not going to," she stated with determination. It was more of a promise than a fact. If she was going to have a second chance at life again, she wanted to at least try to be… 'not a mess'.

"Then why do you have it?" he challenged. "You got it because you were thinking about it. And I know better than anyone that… one of these days, it's not going to take much for you to fall off the wagon."

"God!" she exclaimed, getting up impatiently. She walked up to the dresser, got the packet of cocaine from her bag and stormed off into the toilet. As Nick watched, she ripped open the packet and flushed down the cocaine right in front of him. Angrily, she sat back down. Nick just watched, intrigued, and noticed how her hair bounced and flowed down her back as she took her place next to him. "Happy now?"

When he didn't say anything, she looked at him and saw a soft smile on his face as he just kept staring at her with what could only be deemed as affection.

"What?" she glowered.

"You're really cute when you're angry," he chuckled. Her expression eased but she still wasn't amused. She lay back down, resting her head on the pillow. He did the same so they both lay close and facing each other. "I get what you're saying. I really do. And I'll admit, when you're around, I'm not inside my head and I like that. Because the person I am inside my head is not good company," he confessed. Zara nodded in understanding. She knew exactly what he meant because it was the same for her. Sulking wasn't good for anyone. Being with someone else and living outside herself was what gave her energy. "But I'm just worried about you."

"Nick…"

"And I'm worried about _us._ You don't know what could be happening in the world. Hell, Lucifer could be looking for you right now. If you called him now and did what you were supposed to do, he would sympathise. But if you left it up to him to hunt you down… there's no way that ends good," he explained.

"I refuse to believe that. We can protect ourselves. I can ward this place against angels and demons. They won't find us," she pleaded. "In the last month, we've never even come across a single angel or demon. That must be a good sign. Whatever's happening, we're out of the radius."

"I don't know about that…"

"Just trust me, okay? I know how to keep us out of their sights. I've picked up a few things over the past two years," she said. "Please." She took his hand with both of hers and kissed his knuckle. Nick's other hand pushed a strand of her hair away from her face and he traced her cheek, giving serious thought to what she said. "We can just forget about them."

The burden of decision-making rested on his shoulders. His mind felt heavy and conflicted. But he knew what he wanted and what he felt whenever he looked at her. With the way she looked at him – with longing and hope – how could he resist?

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Store Room, Duluth, Minnesota – 20 August 2011, 1.12pm**_

The town was quiet as the Impala pulled up on a street packed with buildings, only a few murmurs of conversation here and there being an indication of people being there. Sam dug a hand into his pocket, feeling for the ring of keys and holding onto it as though he feared he would lose it if he wasn't gripping it in his palm until they made it to the door. They went down a set of stairs in a run-down two-storey building in which a DVD shop rented the first floor. The constant drone of an old TV playing an even older VHS tape followed them as they unlocked the first door and went into a narrow passage. There was dust and spider webs everywhere and when Sam tried the switch, the lights flickered weakly and went out. Busting out flashlights, the boys advanced, looking for a very specific door. The warding was very distinct on this door – it was as powerful as warding got. Carefully, Sam unlocked the door while Dean undid all the trip wires and other traps. There, they found the delicately wrapped weapons, some stashed in warded boxes and some in safes.

"Nice to see _you_ again," Dean grinned as he held up one of the weapons, the Holy Lance. He traced the length of the Lance with his fingers, admiring its smooth finish.

"Dude, be careful," Sam warned as his brother moved to wield it. His eyes wandered over the weapons, mentally checking them against an inventory. "Everything's here. Let's start loading the van."

"That's good to hear," a third voice chimed in. The boys spun to see a young black-haired woman with two male accomplices at her side. The men blinked and their eyes turned obsidian. Before the boys could react, the demons shot them with tranquilizers. With a thud, the Winchesters fell to the ground, unconscious. Then, using a real gun, the human woman shot the devil's trap on the ground, breaking it. Slowly, the demons made their way into the room while their female accomplice undid the warding.

Later, the boys awoke in a dark space lit by a single light dangling from the ceiling. "Sam?" Dean called out as he moved to get up, finding that he was tied to a chair and so was his brother. Sam groaned awake, vision blurry as he blinked his eyes a few times.

"W-Where are we?" he asked. "What happened?"

Dean struggled to remember what he saw last, his eyebrows creasing into a frown. He remembered entering the store room, noticing the intricate warding, the Lance… black eyes. "Demons."

Sam looked up at his brother but his gaze wandered beyond him. "Dean," his eyes beckoned to something behind him.

"Ah, you're awake," the woman greeted them. She wore this long black dress that enveloped her figure perfectly and she had these high cheekbones that could cut flesh just like her sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through your soul. This mysterious woman had a delicate smile that would be otherwise welcoming if it were not for the current context. "Crowley would like to thank you, by the way, for the weapons."

"Oh yeah, well good luck getting past the devil's trap," Dean snarled.

Her long, thin, manicured fingers stroked his chin, holding it up to face her. "That's why I'm here, lover," she answered as her eyes playfully scanned his toned facial features. "The devil's trap is destroyed and so is every sigil in that store room."

"But demons can't break devil's traps," Sam voiced.

"That's right," she straightened up. "I'm no demon."

"Then what brand of evil are you?"

She regarded Sam with an amused scepticism and huffed. "Like I would tell you."

"Then tell us this," Dean retorted. "Why is Crowley doing this? We had a deal!"

"Ah, the deal. About that," she briefly stared at the ground, trying to find the words as she crossed her arms. "He said that he needed you boys out of the way for what he's about to do. Also, something about loopholes. I wasn't really paying attention, to be honest. Can you blame a girl for getting lost in his eyes?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a bored look, a precursor to the rolling of eyes. "How about you untie us and we'll find something else to blame you for?" Dean did little to hide the snark in his voice.

"You know what?" Her tone picked up in impatience this time. "The both of you should be grateful. Crowley could have had you both killed if he wanted. Instead, he's keeping you safe in here from whatever's going on outside. A real gentleman." She sighed in flirtatious relief, a smile glowing on her face as she thought of him.

"Wait, what's going on outside?" Sam probed.

"Oh, never mind," she suddenly shook her head, realising that she probably said more than she should have. "I'll leave you both to it, then. Don't worry, we'll let you go when the time comes." She took a few steps toward the door and stopped, turning to face them again. "Name's Esther, by the way." All that they heard was the sound of her heels clanking against the floor and the rusty door coming to a close, before silence fell again.

"Great, just great," Dean lamented.

"How do you think they found us?" Sam asked his brother, still confused about the whole situation.

"It's Crowley. He always has tricks up his asshole," Dean replied, agitated. He jerked about, pulling at the ropes binding his body to the chair. His wrists were cuffed in front of him. He gave up after a while, finding that his efforts did little. "Dammit."

"Dean, what about Bobby? He's probably gonna show up thinking that we're okay and walk right into their trap," Sam concerned.

"Right now we gotta hope that he doesn't."

An hour passed, maybe two. Dean kept trying to break free, hoping that his cumulative efforts would do something to the ropes. Sam, on the other hand, looked around the room, eyes straining to adjust to the darkness, in order to make out where they were and whether there was anything that could help them. The sound of the door opening snapped them out of their thoughts. "Back so soon?" Dean called out. No answer. Two figures moved swiftly toward the Winchesters.

"Hey I'll take this one," one demon said to the other as he stood over Sam. This one had a leather vest and a striking mullet that did not age well.

"What's going on?" Sam shrank back, unsure of what to expect.

The demon swung a fist at his face, eliciting a grunt. "Boss said to keep you alive. He didn't say anything about not having fun," the demon hissed.

"Hey, stay away from him, shitface!" Dean yelled. That earned him a punch too.

" _Exorcizamus te-"_ Another punch.

"This is every demon's dream," the one facing Dean said. "How could we pass up this great opportunity?" More punches ensued. At some point, the same demon brandished a small blade, pressing it against Dean's collarbone. Through spots of radiating pain on his face, Dean looked at his brother. Sam's face had swelled with blue-black bruising all over and he was bleeding from his mouth and nose. For a moment their eyes met and Dean nodded as though to tell his brother to hang in there.

"While you're in here," Sam spat out as he panted heavily with effort. "The others are having fun on Crowley's mission."

"Doesn't matter. We'll all be celebrating once Sophia is out of the picture," Mullet-Head smirked.

"Sophia?" Sam and Dean said at the same time.

"Today's the day we ice that Hell-hating bitch," the demon nodded. "I've waited so long for this."

"What about Lucifer?" Sam asked.

"Oh I'm sure he'll be upset. But he's still in the cage so who cares, right?" That's when they realised that the demons didn't know the truth. They didn't know that Lucifer was out. Would they obey Crowley otherwise?

"Hey Rambo, who killed all those people in Cleveland?" Dean addressed the mullet-headed demon.

"Are you kidding?" The demon gave him a self-satisfied chuckle. "Who else? It was Sophia. Not bad, if I say so myself, but why does _she_ get to have all the fun?"

"Yeah," the other demon agreed. "Lucifer would have let us take over all of Cleveland if he'd done it."

"That's what I'm saying man," Mullet-Head drawled in his Southern accent. "I was all for Satan during the apocalypse until he brought in that girl… what was her name?"

"Zara," the other demon helped him.

Mullet-Head snapped his fingers. "Yeah, her. And then he _had_ to free Sophia."

"But Martin, they were lovers," the other demon sympathised.

"What has _she_ done for us? She ain't in Hell most of the time and now Crowley's in-charge. And she didn't even try to free Lucifer for a whole year! Lovers, my ass," Martin complained. "She made Lucifer weak, man. It's what women do."

"Stop this!" Esther's voice caused them to jump.

"Uh… I didn't mean it that way," Martin rushed to apologise.

"Oh, I know exactly what you meant," she glowered at him as she briskly walked towards them. "Who told you that you could come in here, huh?" She sternly reprimanded them. A deep frown beset her face as she looked at what they'd done to both Sam and Dean. "You morons! Look at what you've done! I'll make sure Crowley hears about this. Now get out of here!"

"You're not our boss!" Martin protested.

"You want to challenge me, Martin?" Esther growled. She thrust a palm in his direction. " _Valeo!"_ Martin was immediately flung back several feet. The other demon flinched, not daring to show any more defiance. "Theo, get Martin out of here and bring me a first aid kit," she ordered. When she was left alone with the Winchesters, she let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed. "I… apologise. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Oh I feel better already," Dean replied sarcastically.

"I'm serious!" she exclaimed defensively. "I don't wanna hurt you both." Theo entered meekly, handing her the first aid kit. She set it down on the floor, opening it and getting out the aseptic solution. Slowly, she worked on Dean's wounds first, dabbing carefully on the reddened areas. He clenched his teeth to keep from wincing.

"What's Crowley doing that is so bad that he wants us out of the way, huh?" Dean inquired.

"You'll find out soon enough, trust me. But it's better for you both to be here," she answered, avoiding his gaze. "I'll get you some ice for that. After I'm done with your brother." Surely enough, after cleaning up Sam's wounds, she left the room to get some ice.

"Dean," Sam whispered. His eyes gestured to the first aid kit. "I'll keep watch." Nodding in agreement, Dean rocked himself onto his feet, which were also bound by cuffs. Taking a moment to regain his balance, he bent down and rummaged the first aid kit for something useful. His fingers found a pair of scissors and some safety pins. That would have to do. He quickly used the safety pins to wrestle with the lock on the handcuffs and pop them open. Once he'd done that, getting out of the ropes was easier. The faint sound of heels tapping against the floor reached Sam's acute ears. "Pst," Sam sounded. Dean quickly sat back down, hoping Esther wouldn't notice anything just yet. With a 'click', the door swung open.

Esther approached Dean with the ice pack in her hands, reading the labels. Just as she stood before him, she noticed that the cuffs around his ankles were unlocked. A gasp barely escaped her lips before Dean jumped to his feet and drove the scissors into her carotid artery. "No hard feelings," he said as he pulled out the scissors, letting blood spray all over the floor. She gurgled with blood escaping into her throat and her left hand scrambled to stem the flow of blood. Inevitably, she collapsed to the ground, a shock-riddled expression plastered on her face. Dean hurried to free his brother and they both finally stood together, rubbing their wrists and arms. Sam glanced at the figure of the bleeding woman, feeling a little sorry for her. After all, she did try to help them. "We gotta go now, Sam."

Quietly, they proceeded down the dark hallways, checking various rooms to see where their weapons and phones were stashed. "Dude," Sam beckoned. He stood close to the slightly-opened door of a storage room full of shelves. Beyond a few rows of shelves was a light and as the boys scurried in, staying in the cover of darkness, they saw their guns and other items piled on a table. Unfortunately, the two demons they had a run-in with earlier were sitting around the table, playing cards. The boys exchanged knowing looks and split up.

"Man, I hate being bossed around by females," Martin grumbled as he slapped down a card.

"Yeah, well get used to it because it looks like the King's got himself a hot secretary," Theo replied nonchalantly. A box full of items fell over somewhere in the room, catching both of them by surprise.

"What was that?" Martin stared into the shadows. "I'll check it out." As Martin wandered in the direction of the noise, Theo stood in the light, staring at Martin to see what was up. While they were both distracted, Sam snuck up to the table, grabbed the demon-killing knife and stabbed Theo in the back. The demon died with a loud groan. "The hell?" Martin rushed back to see his dead partner on the ground and Sam Winchester standing over him. "Oh shit," he cursed as he smoked out of his vessel and disappeared.

Dean emerged from the shadows, regarding the empty vessel on the ground with a puzzled expression. "Well that was easy." Rearmed and ready, they came upon a corridor flanked by a series of windows, letting in light from the streetlamps outside. This was the first glimpse of the outside world they'd had since being brought here. From the rows of buildings outside, it seemed like they were in the same town though it was night-time now. The building they were in also had more floors than the other smaller buildings across the street, giving them a nice aerial view of the town and the harbour beyond. The whole place was quiet, like eerily quiet, which tipped Sam off. "Sam, we better get going before he gets backup."

"Wait, what's that?" Dean followed Sam's gaze to a point in the distance. The clouds looked strange, circling over a specific point on the ground. Then, out of the blue, a bright white light burst outwards, sending out a sonic boom. Dean instinctively grabbed his brother and ducked, putting himself between his brother and the blast wave which shattered the glass windows and sent shards flying. Lucky for them, their leather jackets protected them from most of the spiky pieces of glass, though the back of their hands and parts of their legs were not spared. "You okay?" Sam's worried gaze scanned his brother up and down for any serious injuries.

Dean simply gaped, unsure of what to say. He had a sinking feeling in his chest after what he'd just witnessed and he wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Something seemed awfully wrong about how it was dead silent again. Eventually, the Winchesters found their way back to the Impala. "The van's gone," Dean noticed. Esther and friends probably used it to get the weapons out, which meant that they could track the weapons. At least there was a glimmer of hope. As the Winchesters hurried into their home-on-wheels, they felt invigorated and ready to face what was out there.

* * *

 _ **Duluth, Minnesota – 20 August 2011, 7.44pm (Half an Hour Earlier)**_

Her eyes were still open as the pool of blood grew in size. The edge of the puddle inched away from Esther's neck, reaching out in tiny tendrils. Then, like a receding wave, the blood moved back in through the puncture hole in her neck, flowing back into her body. A pink glow emanated from under her skin as the stab wound healed and little trace was left. Her chest heaved as she gasped for life and her body propelled into a seating position. Her head spun with images of what had happened shortly before she was killed. "Oh no," she said in a hushed tone to herself. She jerked towards the empty chairs, heart pounding wildly. She cursed sharply. Rushing to get her things, she checked the time on her phone. "Shit, I'm late!"

Esther was supposed to have left earlier to help Crowley with his plan, though the incident with the demons put a pause on her schedule. And here she thought she could quickly clean up after the black-eyed idiots and leave immediately after. Fortunately, it wasn't so easy to kill a highly-skilled witch. Scorn for the Winchesters filled her veins as she jumped into her car and took off as fast as she could. They killed _her?_ _Showing kindness was a mistake,_ she thought as she sped down the roads. She heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the army of demons standing at the bridge. No one was dead yet. No one was fighting anyone yet. But two distinct voices were talking. She pushed and shoved her way through the demons to get to the King. Recognising her, they gave way.

"You? You think you can take _my throne_?" Lucifer laughed heartily. The face of Vince Vincente came into view as Esther took her place next to Crowley, all the ingredients for the spell ready with her. "I'm going to bet that every single demon standing behind you wouldn't hesitate to throw you off this bridge if I asked."

"That's the thing, Lucifer. They haven't. Do you know what that means?" Crowley prompted. "You've lost the battle for hearts and minds. They _know_ now that you don't really care about demon-kind. And frankly, you losing the apocalypse to Sam Winchester doesn't give off a good image." He smirked, prepping his best shit-talking skills. "You archangels think that just because you're strong, we should all bow before you. But really, you don't give a shit about the little guy. You see us all as expendable." He turned to the army. "And I'm here to say, every one of you matters!" Cheers resounded, much to Lucifer's surprise. _Something's not right…_ the archangel realised. During the cacophony of resounding approval, Crowley took note of Esther's presence.

"What took you so long?" Crowley murmured through clenched teeth to her.

"A slight hiccup, boss. The Winchesters are loose," her eyes begged for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry. They caught me off-guard. I'll take care of it, I promise. As soon as we're done here."

Crowley studied her expression with a furious intensity. Her sharp features sent daggers through his heart and he just couldn't find it in himself to stay mad at her for long. He knew she was a highly-capable witch and that the Winchesters could be tricky sons-of-bitches. "Fine. You'd better keep your word. Now get on it," he commanded.

"Hello…? Crowley? If you're done whispering sweet nothings into that broad's ear…" Lucifer began. He held his arms out in beckoning. "I say we have a little one-on-one, end this once and for all. Or you could just stand down and I'll show mercy – I'll make it a quick death."

"Oh I don't think so. You see, Lucifer, I may not be as powerful as you, but I'm certainly smarter. I'll always be ten steps ahead of you," Crowley bragged. He did a gesture with his hands and a row of demons appeared behind Lucifer. These were Crowley's most trusted generals. They would do whatever he ordered. The archangel turned to see them, noticing the various weapons they were holding in their hands.

"That's your plan?" Lucifer huffed. "You shouldn't be playing with toys that dangerous, kids."

"Fire!" Crowley yelled. At once, the demons struck the archangel with the Heavenly weapons, holding a weapon with one hand and aiming its power with another. Lucifer blocked their strikes with his arms, withstanding the assault to the best of his ability. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was using up so much energy to guard his vessel from the attacks that he was becoming spent. That only made him angrier and his anger fuelled his willpower to withstand the attack and tear open Crowley's skin. When they finally stopped, he took in a deep breath, unwilling to show weakness.

"That all you got? I didn't even feel anything!" he dismissed, laughing in amusement of their lame attempt in subduing him. Just as he turned to face Crowley, he felt something sharp pierce his abdomen. Lucifer let out a groan despite himself. As his blazing eyes met Crowley's, the demon King jerked the Lance, eliciting another loud groan from the mighty archangel. With a sharp tug, Crowley pulled out the weapon, causing Lucifer to stagger forward. He was weakened, yes, but he wasn't _that_ weak. If anything, he was agitated. "You can't kill me, Crowley," he snarled in a manner so menacing that it sent shivers through the demons. "And when you're dead, anyone who's ever helped you is going to get a millennium in the Pit!" He put a palm to his pierced side, healing the deep wound.

"I don't need to kill you, Lucifer. I just need to stall you," Crowley spat out. He nodded at Esther, who by now had enough time to set up her ritual with the cover of demons. The crowd of demons parted, revealing her quickly-made ritual.

" _In nomine chao, ad quos eieci tei,"_ she recited as Crowley carved a sigil into a demon's chest. While she began the spell, her power was so strong that the sigil began to glow even before he could finish it. When he did complete the final line, connecting the whole image in a closed circle, rays of white light sprung from its edges. The air became thick with the witch's conjuring of energy and a strong breeze blew as the clouds began circling above them. " _Vade ad fundum maris,_ _auferetur a vobis uires..."_

Lucifer's eyes widened before he could fully grasp what was happening. Like a piece of paper being swept up in a hurricane, he felt himself being pulled away in the strong gust of whatever magical rite the witch was performing. _No, I must resist!_ As he struggled to stay on his own two feet, every single ounce of energy in him went into resisting the spell. His eyes flared the brightest it could, shooting out almost like laser beams – a terrifying display of how powerful he truly was. The demons shuddered as they heard him growl deafeningly in effort. In a final flourish, Esther dropped a handful of the last ingredient into the bowl. " _Abio!"_ she yelled. Taking his cue, Crowley stabbed the sigil-bearing demon straight in the chest, igniting the sigil in flames which devoured the sacrificial demon.

All sound ceased. There was a flash of such brilliant white light that everyone present just had to shut their eyes. And then came the ear-piercing thunder which was so loud that it sent out a sonic boom. With that, the light dimmed and Crowley opened his eyes to find himself standing victorious under the dark night sky. The devil was banished. He held his arms out. "Let it be known," he yelled loudly enough to address his army. "That Crowley is the true King of Hell!"

(Winchester POV)

"Bobby, are you okay?" Sam was talking to Bobby on the phone as Dean drove towards the epicentre of the blast they'd just witnessed.

" _Yeah, I just rolled into town. Is everything alright?"_

"No, something's gone wrong. We…" Sam was interrupted by his brother's nudging him to put it on speaker. He obliged, holding out the phone between the both of them. "We found the weapons but somehow Crowley sent his people after us and they… they knocked us out, Bobby. They have the weapons now."

" _How? The room was warded!"_

"He sent some chic, who we think could be a witch, with his demons and she got them past the warding," Dean chimed in. "We're going after Crowley right now."

" _Balls!_ " An exasperated sigh was audible. _"What about that loud noise? I'm guessing it isn't ordinary thunder."_

"It definitely isn't," Sam replied. "There was this weird bright flash in the sky and it was… it was blinding. It looked like it was coming from the bridge near the harbour so that's where we're headed."

" _There's an old textile factory a few blocks from the bridge. Go up to the eighth floor of the building and I'll meet you boys there."_

"Got it." Sam cut the call.

Their footprints left clean trails on the dusty floor of the evacuated factory. Cool sea breeze blew in from the windows as the Winchesters looked around the empty floor. Paint peeled off the walls in ugly patches. There, they found Bobby Singer poised by an open window with a pair of binoculars. Luckily for him, all the glass panels of the windows had been removed from the building so there wasn't a blanket of glass shards on every floor. "What do we got?" Dean asked, announcing their arrival.

Bobby turned to briefly glance at them but his gaze was inevitably drawn to their striking physical state. They both were badly bruised in the head and thin patches of blood lined their pants. Both of them had shedded their glass-ridden leather jackets in favour of their thick FBI-guise coats. "Do I even wanna know?" the older man asked.

"Maybe later. What's the sitch at the bridge?" Dean pointed a casual finger out the window.

"Take a look," Bobby passed him the binoculars. As the Winchester observed, there was a mass gathering of people on the bridge with what appeared to be Crowley standing in front of them. "That probably explains why the whole town is empty."

"They're all possessed?" Sam posited, taking a look for himself with his bare eyes. From this distance, the demons appeared tiny but made a formidably-sized army.

While Dean quickly scanned the crowd, his attuned vision rested on one particular target. Puzzled, he lowered the binoculars. "Esther's there," he passed the binoculars to Sam. "The witch."

"Witch-killing bullets are in the trunk," Sam said decisively. They should have guessed that Dean stabbing Esther wasn't going to be enough to see the last of her, he thought.

"So what do you think is going on?" Bobby finally asked.

"All that we know is that whatever Crowley was planning, he wanted us out of the way," Sam replied.

A grave expression settled on Dean's face, his earnest green eyes not wavering from the swarm of demons on the bridge. "From the looks of it, he has a demon army ready to raise Hell on earth and the Heavenly weapons to fight off anyone who dares to fight them."

"Geez, don't be too positive, Dean," Bobby said wryly.

"Well, we gotta prepare for the worst possible scenario, Bobby. Why else would he want us out of the way?"

"He's right," Sam agreed. "How are we going to exorcise half a town's worth of demons _and_ get the weapons back?"

"With help," Bobby stated. As the boys listened patiently, the older hunter explained his plan.

"Bobby, you're a genius!" Dean exclaimed, a hopeful smile lighting his face for the first time. "Those sons-of-bitches won't know what hit 'em."

"You can give me my Nobel prize later. If the plan works."

"So this hacker guy, what's his name again?" Sam inquired.

"Frank Devereaux. Guy may have a few screws loose, but you can trust him," Bobby elaborated. With that, the boys got back to the Impala to get the things they needed while Bobby called Frank. Little did they know, however, that Bobby made more than one phone call. It would be this second phone call that ultimately saved them later.

"You want the Heavenly weapons, don't you? Then get your asses down here and have a field day!" Bobby yelled into the phone. He instantly regretted being so loud, checking his surroundings to make sure that the boys weren't there. An equally exasperated reply came through from the other end. "Thank you, _asshole_ ," he cut the call.

"Everything alright?" Dean popped his head around the doorway just then. He passed a shotgun to Bobby as he entered.

"Yeah, we should be good to go," Bobby assured him.

As the three hunters walked in the direction of the van, which Sam used GPS to track, an ominous silence filled the air. It was awfully quiet for an area infested with demons. A mild breeze dragged orphaned leaves and small pieces of paper in its gait. The yellow light from the streetlamps was all they had to guide their path. A rat scurried across the road occasionally. "Just left here," Sam pointed to a crossroad. Just as they turned the corner, their stride was abruptly halted by the sight before them.

"Looking for this?" Esther's sly voice challenged them from atop the vehicle. Her legs dangled demurely off the edge of the roof of the van while a troop of demons stood protectively at its sides. The backdoors of the van were open, revealing the weapons. Obviously, Crowley didn't think that he needed them to fend off a few humans. Big mistake. "What's the matter, Dean? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I kill ghosts for a living," Dean declared firmly, giving her a smug smile. "And witches too, in case you were wondering."

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you gentlemen to leave," Crowley emerged from the crowd of demons. "You've outstayed your welcome."

"We're not leaving without the weapons," Sam snarled.

"If you haven't noticed, you are far outnumbered," Crowley gestured towards his army. "And by the way, you're welcome for taking care of the Devil." When the hunters stared blankly at him, he elaborated. "Lucifer is not going to be a problem for a very long time, thanks to the brilliance of yours truly."

"Yeah, how?" Dean probed.

"Let's just say he's… trapped. In the bottom of the ocean."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head, frowning. "If your plan was to face off Lucifer, why go through such trouble to stop _us_? I thought you wanted to work together?"

"How sentimental of you, Moose," Crowley remarked. A smile crept its way up his lips. "You see, I was happy to work with you because you three were useful as long as you had the weapons. But then, I realised, why sacrifice the freedom of my kind on earth to secure my throne when I could have it all?"

"So all that crap about you not letting demons walk the earth after helping us…?"

"Only applied so long as it was Sophia that we were fighting. We didn't discuss new terms of engagement when Lucifer became the target. _Loophole_ ," he stated. "So, I'm only going to ask _nicely_ one more time, for old times' sake. Leave peacefully and we'll go back to the way things should be."

Dean and Bobby exchanged a nod. "Pass," Dean declared, as Bobby's thumb clicked on the 'send' button of his phone discreetly. Suddenly, a loud static filled the air, taking everyone by surprise. Within a second, the discernible sound of Dean's voice blared from every single speaker in the area – every car, every building and even the shipping yard nearby was hacked, playing a pre-recorded exorcism. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…"_

Every demon convulsed and screamed, some even going into shaking fits before them. Esther gasped, frantically looking around herself for some semblance of order, but all she found was chaos. The demons were in no shape to fight. Crowley himself was victim to the exorcism, though he seemed to be holding on much better than the others. Taking her chances, she leapt down onto the ground. She expertly landed on her stilettos, standing protectively between the van and the hunters. She stuck her palm out at the hunters, flinging Bobby backwards. She summoned energy again, getting ready to push back the Winchesters too. Dean's hands scrambled into his coat pocket, pulling out the gun loaded with witch-killing bullets. With a moment to spare, he took aim and pulled the trigger. Esther's eyes widened in shock of what was to come but just then, she felt herself being dragged away. The bullet missed her head by a narrow margin. Crowley, holding her arm protectively, clenched his other hand in the air, blowing up the speakers of the van. A cloud of thick, grey smoke filled the front of the van, accompanied by the smell of something burning. As if on cue, demons who had been staking out in the buildings of their immediate surroundings followed Crowley's example, shutting down the speakers in whatever ways they could. The hunters were losing time fast.

Some demons inevitably smoked out, some had no choice but to yield to the exorcism but a good number still remained. Bobby and Sam used their demon-killing blade and angel blade to stab and kill as many demons as they could, providing cover while Dean tried to pull out as many weapons as he could before the van inevitably blew up. "Not so fast!" Esther directed a gust of wind at him, flinging him backwards onto the hard gravel. As Dean coughed from having his breath knocked out of him, he despaired to see the image of an endless stream of demons surrounding his brother and surrogate father. _We may not make it,_ he dreadfully thought. _Is this the end?_ This was suicide. He should have known better. They had severely overestimated their chances. Dean regretted every single choice they made that day, wishing desperately that he could take them back. Yet another loud ringing noise resounded. But this time, the noise had a distinctive bright light accompanying it. Streetlamps flickered and blew out with flying sparks. The demons, who were now recuperating and barely affected by the fading sounds of the exorcism, looked around themselves in curiosity.

A man appeared before Dean. He was blonde, wearing a tank top and baggy shorts as well as flip flops. He even sported a pair of aviators, looking like one of those dudes who practically lived on the beach. Of all the strange entrances he'd witnessed in his life, Dean thought this to be among the top few. Here they were, three hunters fighting for their lives in a suicidal crusade to take powerful weapons away from a large army of demons and a witch, interrupted by a deeply tanned surfer dude. As Dean observed, the surfer dude wasted no time in helping them fight the demons, grasping them by their necks and igniting them from the inside. Dead vessels fell to the ground with ease, leaving burnt-out eye sockets. And as it turned out, surfer guy didn't show up alone. To help him came a punk chic with a Mohawk, a buff Mexican-looking guy, a smartly-dressed man with a van Dyke beard and a long-haired lady in a floral dress. _Angels?_

At some point, Surfer Guy turned around to Dean and reached out a hand, helping him up. "We can hold them off. You should get your brother and Bobby and leave," the angel ordered.

Dean simply stared in confusion. A hundred questions raced through his mind, but he began with "What about the weapons?"

"We'll take care of them. They belong in Heaven anyway," the angel replied. "There's no time. Go!"

With the angel nudging him towards the other humans, Dean ushered Sam and Bobby and the trio took off in the direction of their vehicles. As they turned the corner, they came face-to-face with a row of demons who were armed with assault rifles. Adrenaline shot through the hunters as they rushed into an empty alley before the volley fire could reach them. Time moved in breakneck speed as they darted from alley to alley in an attempt to get to the Impala unscathed. Bullets rained on them, forcing them to think with instinct as they dodged and sprinted. Finally, as they reached the familiar black car, they squandered little time in getting into the car, though they could not escape the shower of glass from bullets piercing through the windows of the car. Once in the driver seat, Dean stomped on the pedal so hard he worried he might have broken a hole through the floor of the car. But as soon as they were far away enough and the demons appeared like ants in the rear view mirror, the boys heaved a huge sigh of relief, still panting from effort. "That was close," Sam heaved a deep breath.

"Yeah. Don't worry, Bobby, we'll get your ride once this town stops being Hell on earth," Dean added on. There was no sound from the backseat. "Bobby?"

"Bobby!" Sam exclaimed, holding up Bobby's signature baseball cap, which was tossed to the front seat. There was a crimson-bordered hole on the side. As Dean turned to his brother, he saw the look on Sam's face – horrified, speechless and fixated on Bobby. Dean's neck craned to see Bobby, laying still in the backseat, slumped over and with a hole in his forehead from which blood poured out. The older hunter's eyes were open and pallid. "Find a hospital, now," Sam ordered, before Dean could be fully overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. Through the stinging pain of tears in his eyes, Dean kept his mind focused on his brother's dictum as much as he could.

* * *

(Lucifer POV)

Lucifer felt the thick density of seawater enveloping him as he was uncontrollably propelled into the depths of the ocean. He thought at first that it might have been a normal angel-banishing spell but as it turned out, he was very wrong. His path was directed. There was an end to this speedy journey that Crowley had planned beforehand. He continued to struggle in a futile attempt to release himself from this spell, causing large waves to form at the surface of the ocean. Deep sea creatures swam frantically away from him, unwilling to be caught in the radius of his rocket-like trajectory. That was when he noticed the territory he was in. It was all strikingly familiar. Before the pieces could fit together in his head, he was hurled into a deep black pit, full of a soft gooey substance that he remembered but paid little attention to. The wiry appendages of the creatures in this pit pierced into his body, sending waves of pain throughout him. He groaned in agony, caught by surprise by the stinging, piercing assaults of the bloodthirsty creatures.

He gasped in torment, unused to feeling so much pain at once. Salty water filled his lungs in gallons, which he then tried to expel from his vessel's body desperately. The wiry black creatures grasped at his arms, pulling him down deeper into the pit. Using every ounce of strength he could summon, he resisted and scratched at the edge of the pit, labouring to pull himself up. His face contorted in torment as he looked around himself for anything to help him get out of it. But there was nothing, except the ornately-designed pillars of the vault – Sophia's vault. The only thing that stood out was a glowing light from a far wall. It was a sigil. The same one that Crowley drew moments before the spell began to take over him. "You sneaky motherfu-" Lucifer's ramble was cut short by a powerful tug as the creatures of the pit encircled his waist and forcibly drowned him in their energy-draining embrace.

* * *

A/N:

Alright, so that was pretty action-packed. A lot of noteworthy things. First off, what does Crowley offer Dr Hess that is so compelling? What's also intriguing is the fact that Bobby seems to have been in league with a certain group of angels (I hope you've guessed by now who they are). Oh and uh… sorry about Bobby. He had to go. But at least he went down fighting! That demon with the mullet, Martin, is the same one who Lucifer assigned to personally watch Zara during the apocalypse. Evidently, the demon has some distaste for her. He's one of those annoying characters who you wonder why no one has killed off yet.

Not to worry, Lucifer isn't dead. He can't be killed that easily. But where he is right now, he probably wishes for death. Or maybe he never feels that way. Maybe his anger keeps him alive. But the point is, his current disposition buys precious time for everyone else. It's amazing how the fate of one character can affect what the other characters do in such profound ways, even if they don't know it. Oh and just to be clear, the doors to the vault are permanently busted open – they have been ever since Zara opened them. That's how Crowley got in and drew the sigil he needed for the spell. Obviously, he's done some digging into Sophia to get to know his enemy better. Gotta give him props for that.

And in case you were wondering about the spell, one sigil is drawn in the intended destination and another on the sacrificial person (the demon). After the spell is performed and energy is harvested by the witch, the fulfilment of the sacrifice charges the sigils and the target angel is banished to where the destination was demarcated. This was all recorded by the British Men of Letters in their experiments on angelic subjects.


	50. The Things We Protect

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Oh my, has it been 50 chapters already? I am so excited to have reached this milestone and I am so grateful to you guys for showing your support for my writing. I know I may not be the best writer but I try to improve myself and I try to make things interesting. Over the past year, I feel like I have grown _a lot_ as a writer and that wouldn't have been possible without you guys and my best friend who gave me constructive feedback for many of my chapters. I am always glad to receive feedback from you guys about things you want to see or things I can improve on so don't be shy!

So there's a little special something to start the chapter off with. This chapter is set a few months after the previous chapter. Quite a big jump, I know. But quick recap: Bobby's dead, something funky is brewing in Heaven between Raziel and Naomi, Lucifer's trapped at the bottom of the ocean (in the pit of life-sucking things in Sophia's vault), Cas is in a mental hospital and Crowley wants the demons to be free on Earth.

Here's to another 50 chapters, hopefully :)

* * *

 **Chapter 50: The Things We Protect**

(Sophia POV)

"Lucifer!" I giggled, despite my best efforts to maintain a straight face. "Lick your own damn lips!"

"Where's the fun in that?" he argued, cracking that self-satisfied grin before picking me up by the waist. It was so sudden that I let out a short yelp, caught by surprise. His lips smothered mine in kisses, leaving me hungry for more as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "The blender should break down more often," he whispered into the intimate gap between our faces as we paused momentarily. We were covered in chocolate ice cream and milk, standing in a very messy kitchen in our isolated home in Illinois. Cool wind blew in from the east, through the glass doors on the side of the house.

"Of course _you'd_ say that," I shot back with an accusatory tone. "You're not the one with a craving for milkshakes."

"I have a craving for you." Again with that cheeky grin.

"Tsk tsk," I shook my head, incapable of controlling my mad smile. "You are the one lascivious!"

"Sure am, but _you_ are the one who invited me to stay," he quipped, referring to a time long ago in the infancy of our romance in Heaven. "And seeing as our current condition is rather… _sticky_ , I do think that a shower is mandatory."

"That is a reasonable proposition, if I say so myself," I said, excitement fluttering in my chest. Again, we both leaned in for a kiss, his hands traversing my back and mine grabbing his hair in an uncontrolled ecstasy.

"Ugh, get a room, you two," a third voice interrupted. Our heads jerked towards him, recognising him with warmth emanating from our chests. "Right here in the kitchen? Really?"

"Tell your father to stop breaking my blenders, then!" I shot back, chuckling as I pulled away from our embrace to greet my beautiful son.

"Your honour, these are false accusations against me!" Lucifer mocked an offended expression.

"I can't believe the both of you are grown-ups," Luciel huffed. He had the scarlet eyes and hair of his father but his wings shared my golden shine. Though he resembled his father in his build, he took after me when it came to the delicate features on his face and his sharp jawline. Truly, I saw in him a perfect mix of Lucifer and myself and it delighted me deeply to watch him grow. His human vessel had grown into what one would recognise to be an eighteen-year old and did show a similarly perfect mix of his human parents too. He stood at the doorway now, holding a rather large basket of flowers and fruits from the garden outside. "I did what you asked, Mom. Dahlias are trimmed, fruits are picked," he gestured with the basket.

I wiped my chocolate-covered face with a hand-towel. "Did you do your homework?"

"Uh." His mouth opened and closed slightly, betraying his culpability. His lips widened into a thin, guilty smile. "Home…work…"

"On the inevitability of consciousness," I reminded him. It was a reading assignment, mostly, with the optional bonus of presenting his own essay on the topic.

"Right." He narrowed and averted his eyes, probably conjuring up some excuse for his tardiness.

"You had a whole month!"

"Come on, Sophie, cut the kid some slack," Lucifer came to his rescue. "He's a growing kid so he's probably too busy exploring the world to get through your thick pile of books on a _sub-topic_ of a sub-topic."

"So busy that he can't spare two hours a day reading?" I put my hands on my hips. "Learning is important, young man, and knowledge is power."

"I know, Mom," he pouted. "But really, it's Dad's fault for taking me hunting all the time."

"Hey!" Lucifer gaped, shocked by his son's betrayal.

"Well, in that case," I relented. "No training for you until you do your homework."

"But _Mooomm…_ " Father and son lamented simultaneously.

"No arguments," I said firmly, shooting a glare at Lucifer. "Especially you. You're spoiling him." I took off my apron, setting it down on the kitchen counter before I went up the stairs. "Lucifer. Shower. Now," I ordered before the two of them could plan in secret about how to get away from their responsibilities. Despite myself, I smirked at the thought of how close the two of them had become. I loved seeing the both of them so happy and this was all I ever needed in my life – my boys, my home. After all Lucifer and I had been through, having our son with us only deepened our relationship and gave us more to fight and live for.

I awoke with a gasp. I panted heavily and my head spun. _W-where am I?_ "Sophia," someone called my name. "It's okay. You're still here." I looked around me. Grey. Everything was grey and dark. I was still in the Void. "Look at me," the voice ordered.

I forced my sight to focus. In front of me there were bars. My hands encircled the bars. With them, were someone else's – wrinkly, thick and with sharp nails. Then I remembered. "Khaos Omega," I identified.

"It's all coming back now, isn't it?" His gentle voice said.

I'd found His cage. After what could have been years in the Void of playing along with Alpha's mind-games and discreetly solving puzzles hidden in plain sight, I found Him. Omega – Alpha's own nemesis. The key to my revenge. The one with all my answers. "What did you do to me?" I asked, still puzzled by the whole situation.

"I showed you your prime motivations. They are very pure," He stated. I couldn't even see His face in the darkness that permeated his cage like a thick smoke. Only His hands were visible to me.

"Uh… thanks?" I still felt disoriented. I reminded myself of how I got here to ground myself, not wanting to be swept away by the waves of confusion.

"It's important to be pure of heart. Purity is key – or rather, it is _the_ key to my cage," He explained. "Let me quickly outline what you need to do before my unruly other self notices that you're somewhere you shouldn't be."

"Hold on," I stopped Him. "You saw my motivations. Then you know that I want something from you."

"Your son is safe," He reassured me with His wispy, deep, resonant voice. "Trust me."

My grip around the bars tightened. "Tell me how I can find him."

"I can't. Not yet."

"Then how do you know he is safe?" I challenged.

"Because I just do." I sensed desperation in His voice. Was He just telling me what I wanted to hear? "I do not wish to deceive you, child. I am not like Alpha. If I was, I wouldn't be behind bars right now." My shoulders tightened as I contemplated whether or not to got through with this. For years, I'd scoured the Void, cautiously keeping my activities secret and away from Alpha's spying gaze. I'd been so patient and so persistent in wanting to find Omega for even a glimpse of hope that I would find Luciel again. Now I stood on the precipice of raining hell on the Void and a sudden hesitation gripped me as to whether this would actually pan out. His large fingers reached out and grabbed mine, jarring me out of my thoughts. But his grip wasn't harsh. "You have my word, Sophia, that your son will be returned to you as soon as you help me oust Alpha."

What other choice did I have? Dealing with Alpha had been so frustrating all this while. He may have taught me a lot of things, but He was so unpredictable at times, abusing me and keeping me in solitary confinement for every act of 'dissent'. If He thought me to be a compliant, obedient ally now, it was only because of this – I had to maintain a façade so that He wouldn't suspect me of doing anything under His nose. It was the price of my revenge. "The trust I'm giving you is sacred," I said, my voice wavering from weariness and the weight of the vision I just had.

"And I will safeguard it," His hands held mine in a tender hold, showing a kindness that I'd never seen from any of the other emanations of Khaos thus far. "So here's what you must do…"

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 25 October 2011, 3.30am (Two months after Zara broke her promise to Sophia)**_

"Zara." Her head shook in what appeared to be denial, though her eyes remained tightly shut. "Zara," Nick called out again. He tried shaking her shoulders in the darkness. With a gasp her eyes flung open and she sat up, panting heavily. Her heart raced wildly. She buried her face in her hands and pulling them away, she found her face to be damp. By the time she was reoriented with her surroundings, she realised that Nick was holding her in a warm embrace on their shared bed in the middle of the night. "You're having bad dreams again."

She leaned into his shoulder. "It gets worse every time," she sighed, rubbing her tears away.

"What did you see this time?" Nick asked, rubbing her back.

"What I always see. Lucifer." She recalled in horror the feeling of the crimson red eyes in the darkness scorching her skin and his hands desperately clawing at her, threatening to pull her down into whatever deep abyss he was in. "This time there were snakes. Or at least, I think they're snakes. It was too dark to see. But there's also something else." Her eyebrows crinkled as she struggled to put into words what she saw. "It was only a glimpse, but I thought I…" She tried to concentrate on the memory of the dream again, uncertain if she was reading into it correctly. "I thought I felt Sophia."

"What do you mean… you _felt_ her?"

"I…" Distinct memories came back to her from the time she helped Lucifer find Sophia's vault. Sophia had reached out to her in pain, her cries of agony giving Zara visions of disastrous weather – the kind that plagued the Bermuda triangle and caused ships and aircrafts to be devoured in the rage of her torment. It was the same feeling she had now. "I felt her pain. Nick, what if she's in trouble?" She pulled away from his arms, chest tightening at the thought. "What if she needs me? What if Lucifer needs me?"

"Zara, relax," he rubbed his eyes, still sleepy. "You're overthinking it."

"Am I?" she hugged her knees to her chest, the burden of her recurring dreams weighing heavily on her. "First, Lucifer. Now, Sophia. Who's next, I wonder?"

"That's two different archangels that you've seen in your dreams. They can't both be haunting you at the same time, can they? And according to you, Lucifer doesn't even know that Sophia left you. So how would he know to reach out to you?" Nick paused to let her dwell on it. "The way I see it, you're just… feeling guilty. There's no way you can know _for sure_ that it's actually them."

An idea sprung up in her head. "Actually, I might." She got up briskly, consulting the black leather bag that Sophia had left for her. She reached in and dug out the bronze artefact, hefting it carefully in her palm. Nick switched on the bedside lamp just as she sat back down with it. He too recognised it from Lucifer's time scouring the earth for a vessel who was capable of receiving visions from it and caused the emerald eyes of the hawk to glow. _All those people he killed before he got to Zara…_ It was almost unreal to see it in front of him now, without the overarching presence of Lucifer's eyes. As Nick watched, she closed her eyes and concentrated on Sophia really hard. To her, it felt like her mind was in a whole new place, looking for familiar vibes in a space of nothingness in her head. A frown deepened on her face and she remained silent for a while, leaving the air between them tense with anticipation. Her eyes opened again and she let out a sigh.

"Anything?" Nick asked. She shook her head sadly. "See, it really couldn't be them. Get some sleep, Zara." His face contorted into a yawn and he rubbed his eyes again. Exhausted, he glanced at the clock on the far wall.

Zara hugged her arms to her body, staring down in dejection. "I can't. I'm wide awake now."

"Hm…" his eyes began to sting with fatigue. "Maybe we should go out and see the stars."

A smile crept up onto her face. She was touched by his suggestion but she could see that he was clearly in need of rest. "Maybe another time. Go to sleep, Nick. I just need a knock-out."

"Are you sure? I'm happy to stay up with you," he said with a sly smile. His fingers traced her back gently, beckoning her to give in to his touch. "You know, if you wanna pass the time."

As much as she would have wanted it, she still felt tired from all the nights they stayed up for that reason. Just this one night at least, she wanted to keep her clothes on. "For an old man, you sure have a lot of libido," she teased.

"I'm not _that_ old, Zara, and besides, you could drive any man's libido up," he chuckled. "Vodka's in the second cabinet above the stove, by the way."

"Got it. Thanks," she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before reaching past him and switching off the bedside lamp.

As she stood in the kitchen, pouring a shot of vodka into a glass, she wondered what to make of these recurring nightmares of hers. Something awful was going down in the world around her and she wasn't quite sure what. She had seen the news of the grand massacre in Cleveland and immediately knew that it was Lucifer's doing. She wasn't sure how, but she just knew that he had to be behind it. Her stomach churned just at the thought of how angry he must have been and she wondered if she and Nick actually made the right decision. Hell, she knew that what they were doing was wrong but then again, was there _objectively_ anything more wrong than being Satan's accomplice? This was just one of many ways she justified her own plain defiance of Sophia's wishes because if she didn't tell herself this, the guilt would have eaten her from the inside long ago. The strong smell of alcohol reached her nostrils and she held up the glass, observing the clear liquid inside. How it looked so harmless yet contained so much potential. That's when a new thought occurred to her. What if… all these dreams were Lucifer's way of honing in on her? What if he already found her? The thought of what he'd do to her caused her to shudder. If she thought Sophia's punishment was bad…

Images of Lucifer torturing her after she got caught in Carthage, Missouri, flashed in her vision. She jolted as though to feel the kiss of the lash again. She remembered the feeling of being covered in blood and enduring so much pain that all of it just became… homogenous. Lucifer had said he did it out of love and his words had sounded so soothing in that moment, like all could be forgotten and she would be prized in his eyes again. It all seemed so strange to her now. Why had she fallen under his spell so easily? Was it naïveté? Or was it something else? Whatever it was, she imagined that he would treat her somewhat differently now. So she couldn't risk it. She remembered the platinum box of _kohl_ that Sophia had said was a gift to her from Lucifer long ago. When Zara used it on herself, it allowed her to see like an archangel – she could see the true faces of demons, angels and more – and she dubbed it _angel vision_. She'd been afraid to use it again all this while, but it would have to become a necessity if she had to be sure that she wasn't being watched by angels or demons.

Without a choice but to be slave to her paranoia, she swung her head back, downing the shot of vodka. _Wish me luck, Luc,_ she prayed.

* * *

(Winchester POV)

 _ **Abandoned Warehouse, Chicago, Illinois – 25 October 2011, 7.48pm**_

Another day passed – another day without Bobby Singer. And now Frank was missing too, most likely dead. Too many people were lost in the last two months in the scuffle between hunters and demons in various flashpoints around the country. Though the outside world was as clueless as it always was about these things, a whole war was being fought both underground and in plain sight. Demon presence grew stronger by the day and Crowley was definitely up to something. It wasn't enough that he was free to send his kind topside to roam free and wreak havoc. He'd been purchasing land by the loads – but why? Sam looked up the locations on the internet in an attempt to find out what was so interesting about these areas. But so far, nothing. His mind searching for new avenues of thought, he recalled the chronology of everything he and his brother had discovered since their narrow escape from Duluth.

First up, Bobby's mysterious lead. They learned from Frank that this lead was in fact an angel by the name of Shemsiel, one of the _Nalkam,_ who were extremely hard to find owing to their expertise in blending in with humans. Frank and Bobby were trying to get information from him on Sophia and their long-drawn efforts cultivated in Bobby scoring a meeting with Shemsiel. According to Frank, the meeting itself was not very useful – Bobby proposed a mutual sharing of information but the angel refused to budge, unwilling to divulge any information on the archangel. Shemsiel remained resolute, despite being shocked to hear from Bobby about Sophia's efforts at releasing Lucifer using Sam. In fact, the men were surprised that the angels were completely unaware that Lucifer was free in the world. Shemsiel refused to reciprocate Bobby's extension of an olive branch still, which meant that Bobby had to resort to Plan B – knock over a cup of coffee onto the angel and plant a tracker on him in the process of politely helping him clean up. This was sufficient for Frank to pinpoint where Shemsiel's office was located.

Second, Bobby's numbers. As he died, Bobby had scribbled a string of numbers onto Sam's hand. For weeks, the boys had employed Frank's help in finding out what they meant. It was even a mystery where Bobby had gotten these numbers from, until Frank mentioned that Bobby, despite Frank's warnings, decided to go and check out Shemsiel's office all by himself. It was the only way to get access to the angel's physical files and encrypted files on his computer. Luckily, Bobby came out from this risky venture successful and undetected, giving Frank access to a small portion of the angel's online endeavours before he got locked out again. They assumed that whatever numbers Bobby had given them were gleaned from scouring Shemsiel's office. Initially, they used the numbers as coordinates and found the most peculiar of enterprises – a drug-distribution company under the guise of a pharmacy. We're talking about the hard, addictive stuff like dope, PCP, cocaine and all that. People go in and come out with their fix of poison readily and this was right under the government's nose. Upon further investigation, the truth came to light that this was another one of Crowley's operations, aiming to make slaves of the human race until they finally died and went to Hell. But that lead to another question – how did the angels come to know about this and what were they doing about it? This was just the beginning of the rabbit-hole that led the Winchesters to the realisation that the only way through this demon infestation was war. And it was a war being fought on all fronts by not only hunters and demons, but also angels.

Lastly, Frank's hard drive. After Frank's disappearance, the boys received an email that was meant to be sent to them in case of Frank's death, which was more than confirmed by the amount of blood sprayed all over his RV. The boys felt lost, unsure of what to do next, until the email came in. Even in death, Bobby and Frank had been so helpful that it hurt to think of them. Following the information in Frank's hard drive, they came upon a real-estate company that shed light on the massive scale of Crowley's operations, purchasing not only uninhabited land but also factories, laboratories, music labels – basically every avenue of human enterprise. Sam remembered the close call they faced when breaking in and he thought fondly of a hacker they'd met – Charlie Bradbury. Without her help, it would have been close to impossible to find the most important of the pieces to the puzzle – the covert competition between a certain group of angels and Crowley for a mysterious delivery from Iran.

"Hey, you ready to finally crack this thing open?" Dean asked as he walked in with a bag of tools. He set it next to the briefcase on the table, which was illuminated by work lamps.

"Yeah," Sam set down his laptop, joining his brother by the table. Delicately, he unlocked the briefcase with a 'click' and inside, they found a huge chunk of rock.

"That's a lot of fuss over a caveman Lego," Dean remarked.

"Well, whatever the angels and demons are fighting over is bricked up inside that," Sam guessed.

Putting on the necessary safety gear, Dean hefted a mallet in his hand. With a great swing of the arm, he brought down the tool. With a distinct crack came a clap of deafening thunder, causing the boys to flinch. They looked skyward, as though that would glean some answers. Thinking that it was probably coincidence, Dean brought down the mallet again. This time, they heard thunder again. It was louder and was accompanied by an insidious flash of lightning. "That sound like somebody saying, "No, wait, stop," to you?" Dean looked to his brother for consolation.

"Uh… yeah…" Sam too was unsure of what to make of it.

"Oh well," Dean nonchalantly shrugged, continuing to pound the rock. After all, it was in their job description to expect all kinds of cosmic nonsense. The skies only chorused with thunder and lightning more, giving a visual and auditory audience to their investigation. Finally, the rock gave way, falling apart and revealing a stone tablet. "Aha," Dean used a cloth to wipe away the dusty layer of the tablet. As he and Sam pored over the inscriptions on the object, his eyebrows creased into a frown and he turned the tablet over to look at its back. "The hell is this?"

"Looks ancient," Sam observed, taking the tablet into his own hands. "I don't even recognise the script. Could be proto-Enochian or something like that."

"Great. Are there even translators for proto-Enochian?" Dean wore a sceptical frown.

"Angels? And maybe a few demons?" Sam answered. "I hate to say it but… we could try asking Shemsiel."

"After all we went through to keep out of the angels' radars? They're looking for the tablet as much as the demons, Sammy. They'll want it back."

"Then who do we go to?"

Dean sighed, pulling a hand down his face as he contemplated their next move. "It's been a long day. We'll think about it tomorrow."

 _ **The Next Day, 7.03am**_

Dean's eyes lazily stretched open, awakened by the sound of news playing in the background. " _...At a loss to explain the continent-wide storm system that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blanketing a good part of the nation in freak lightning displays,"_ the reporter said. The older Winchester yawned as he sat up, spotting his brother sitting with his laptop open, blaring the news. " _Here with Dr. Marlon Price of the U.S. Meteorological Survey at a press conference earlier today._ "

The scientist came on to address the issue as Dean washed up at a sink nearby. " _Baffled? No, I'm not baffled. Frankly, I'm offended. This is not the way weather behaves."_

" _Power outages and related damages to electronic equipment have been reported from as far east as Cape Cod_ …" the reporter continued.

As Dean settled down next to his brother, they both eyed the tablet curiously. "So, what? We start the storm heard 'round the world?"

"When we broke this thing…" Sam patted the tablet. "…open last night, every maternity ward within a hundred-mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labour."

"Hmm," Dean picked up the tablet, tracing its etchings with a finger. "This one goes out to all the ladies. So, heavyweight signs, omens – what do we got?"

"Assuming it's writing, I've never seen anything like it, ever. And it doesn't match anything in any book or online. Proto-Enochian is the working theory."

"Alright, so the undercover angels land here, start secretly underwriting university departments, pouring money into digs, all while being stalked by Crowley – for this. Why?" Dean summarised.

"No clue. We do know that they'll all be tearing new ones until someone gets their hands on it, though. Look, we got to take a minute, hole up somewhere safe, find out what we've got," Sam suggested.

"Rufus' Cabin, then?"

"Yeah." Just as they were getting ready to pack up and leave, the sound of Sam's phone ringing caught their attention. Sam frowned as he saw the caller ID. "It's Meg." His curiosity piqued, Sam answered the phone. "What?"

" _What up, Bullwinkle? Just a little FYI call. Your boy's awake."_

"What?" Sam shot Dean a concerned look. "Cas is awake."

Dean's eyes widened. Wanting to hear more, Sam put the phone on speaker. "When?" Dean asked.

" _Last night about 8."_

"And you waited till now to call us?" Dean's exasperation clearly resonated through the phone.

" _I've been busy with Cas. He's just a tad different than when he dozed off, 'kay?"_

"What do you mean, different?"

" _Hey, Seacrest, guess what – not a nurse. Just playing one on TV. Want answers? Start driving."_ Meg abruptly cut the call, leaving the boys with no choice but to head down to Indiana to finally see their barely-alive angel friend.

* * *

 _ **Meanwhile in Heaven…**_

Raziel paused outside Naomi's office. _This is going to be bad_ , he thought forebodingly. But what other choice did he have? The pickle they were in transcended political divisions – it was a matter of Earth's security. It was bad enough that the world was becoming increasingly overrun by demons. This matter alone occupied several of his brothers and sisters these days. One wrong move and it could mean all-out war on Earth with humans caught in between angels and demons and no one in Heaven wanted that.

Once again, he was filled with shame and regret when it came to how things had gone down for them over the last few months. It had been great at first, when they'd arrived victorious in Heaven with the stolen weapons. They were greeted as heroes by their brethren and it was their first real success since the war. It represented a step forward for their kind. With the confidence that they could now achieve anything they put their mind to, Raziel's team worked hard to find the Word of God tablets. However, they were wary to keep their tracks covered so that they could stay ahead of Naomi, hence the usage of a proxy company to fund the university's excavation of the tablet. Yet, somehow the King of Hell managed to get in their way, posing as an interested buyer of the artefact who owned a museum. Seeing as there were two competitive buyers for this ancient artefact, the university held a hearing to determine who would obtain ownership of the chunk of rock.

That was the worst part. It was a hard-fought legal battle and any open fighting would have attracted unwanted attention. Somehow, Crowley got his way. That confused Raziel a lot. _How did the demon King even know about the Word of God tablets?_ It seemed that the demon was way ahead of the angels when it came to this, which was puzzling considering that the Word of God had been a highly-guarded secret. There was no way Crowley could have come to know about it without the help of an angel.

Raziel and his team had been watching Crowley for months, tracking his purchases and activities. Every time they thought they'd discovered something horrible, it seemed to have been set in motion months in advance. So far, Crowley had a monopoly over several businesses and if he continued on this trajectory, he could have control over the human race. This was clearly an issue for the angels to deal with. And it also made the fact that Crowley almost came into possession of the tablet that much more frightening. But now Raziel knew, from his sources, that even Crowley had lost the tablet. Apparently, all that was delivered to him was a briefcase that contained a salt and holy water bomb. A smirk escaped Raziel's lips. That had its comedic value.

This lead to why he was here today. The tablet was missing. That meant it came down to a timed race between angels and demons to retrieve the tablet. It didn't matter who brought the tablet back to the safety of Heaven so long as it stayed out of the demons' hands, Raziel told himself. Willing to put his pride aside for the moment, he took a deep breath and turned the knob, pushing open the door. Naomi's shark-like eyes darted up to meet his from behind the table. "Raziel, do come in," she beckoned. Fidgeting with a button on his coat, Raziel took a seat across the table from her. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here to request your help." It pained him to come to his political rival for aid but it was for the greater good.

" _My_ help? The great Raziel needs _my_ help?" she teased, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"This isn't a joke, Naomi. It's a matter of universal security," he said firmly.

"Hm…" she set her pen down and intertwined her fingers. "If it is such an important matter, then I am obliged to concede."

"Thank you," he nodded. "It's the Word of God."

Naomi's head tilted in surprise. "Well, don't keep me waiting. What about it?"

"We may have found one of the tablets. But it seems to have gotten out of hand." Raziel explained to her the situation with Crowley and the fact that now the location was unknown. "While it isn't in the demon's hands, we must be quick in securing it ourselves."

"Huh." She stared intensely at a paperweight in contemplation. "If what you're saying is true, then we _must_ get on it right away. I'll take it from here, Raziel."

"Wait, that's not what I came here for," he interjected. "I came to ask for your help. In retrieving the tablet _together._ You are not sidelining me on this one."

"I'm sorry, Raziel. But I'm not the one who lost the tablet. Clearly you aren't fit to handle this work. The fact remains that we would not be in this mess if it wasn't for your inefficiency." Her face softened as her gaze roved over the table before meeting his. "But you know what, I don't want this to come between us. I'll be the bigger person. I'll keep your involvement on the DL," she said with a mock compassion. "Good talk."

Reluctantly, Raziel got up and left, seething at how badly things had gone. Now he had no control over what happened to the tablet and as though to rub salt into the wound, Naomi was making a tactical concession to cover up his team's mistakes. It was anything but noble of her – it was a way to get them under her thumb. _It's for the greater good, it's for the greater good_ , he kept repeating to himself. _We'll get her next time._

Meanwhile, Naomi simply stared at him with quiet amusement as he exited her office. A smile widened on her face. The plan was working.

* * *

 _ **Northern Indiana State Hospital – 26 October 2011, 8.10pm**_

"Okay. So, Cas, you said you woke up last night?" Sam asked. The Winchesters stood in Castiel's ward, partly relieved to see the angel walking and talking. But it was obvious that he wasn't completely back to normal.

"Yes. I heard a 'ping!' that pierced me, and, well, you wouldn't have heard it unless you were an angel at the time," Castiel explained.

Nodding, Sam opened up a duffel bag, displaying the tablet they'd cracked open earlier. "That's also when we opened this."

"Oh. Of course. Now I understand." A small smile grew on Castiel's face, recognition flaring.

"Understand what?" Sam asked, unsure if he should be unnerved by the angel's easy grin.

"You were the ones. Well... I guess that makes sense."

Dean was getting impatient. "What makes sense?" He used his gruff, "I-ain't-got-time-for-this" voice.

"If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the earth, it would end up being you two," Cas chuckled, a rare gesture from the typically-stoic angel. "Oh, I love you guys." He pulled the Winchesters into a hug, surprising them both.

"Oh. Uck. Okay," Dean pulled away, disgusted by the sudden show of emotion. "All right. Okay."

Sam politely patted Cas on the back. "Yeah, yeah. You– you said something about "The Word." Is that what's written on there?" He gestured to the tablet.

"Did you know that a cat's penis is sharply barbed along its shaft?" Cas informed them, a look of total astonishment eclipsing his face. "I know for a fact the females were not consulted about that."

"Cas, please, we're losing ground out there, okay? We need your help. Can you not see that?" Dean snapped.

Castiel's forehead creased slightly as he squinted at the tablet. "This is the handwriting of Metatron," he elucidated.

"Metatron?" Sam looked puzzled. His eyes cluelessly beckoned for elaboration. "You're saying a Transformer wrote that?"

"No. That- that's Megatron," Dean corrected him.

"What?"

"The Transformer – it's Megatron."

"What?" That didn't help Sam's understanding.

"Me _ta_ tron. He's an angel. He's the scribe of God. He took down dictation when creation was being formed," Castiel explained.

"And that's the Word of God?" Sam eyed the tablet with a new kind of fascination, amazed by the fact that they had with them a divine object.

"One of them, yes."

"Uh... Well, what's it say, then?"

"Uh... "Tree"?" Castiel quizzically glanced at the brothers. ""Horse"? "Fiddler crab"? I can't read it. It wasn't meant for angels."

Meg, who had been watching them quietly this whole time, decided that it was time to speak up. Word of God? Scribe of God? Sounded like a big deal. "Okay, this all sounds bad. What are you two jackasses doing with the Word of God? Let me see that thing." She moved to get a closer look at it but Dean blocked her.

"Back off, Meg," he snarled.

"Come on, it's my ass, too," she pleaded.

"Back. Off."

"Damn it! Enough of this "demons are second-class citizens" crap!" she exclaimed out of the blue, clearly fed up with the situation.

"Don't. Like. Conflict!" Castiel murmured with the indignation of a toddler, before instantly vanishing and leaving the tablet to fall ceremoniously to the ground. With a crash, the tablet shattered into three pieces, leaving two dumbfounded humans and a demon.


	51. The Prophet

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter features scenes from Reading Is Fundamental.

 **Chapter 51: The Prophet**

 _ **Northern Indiana State Hospital – 26 October 2011, 8.33pm**_

The Asian kid sat petrified on Castiel's bed, hugging the duffel bag close to his chest. Meg and Sam simply studied him, wondering what his presence there could mean.

"You really stepped in it, kid. Oh, man," Meg lamented.

His lower lip quivering, Kevin said, "All I know is, this is – it's for me. I'm supposed to keep it." It was a strong conviction taking over his whole mind, pushing away all the stresses of his ordinary life – getting perfect SATs, applying to Princeton, everything that he'd worked so hard for his entire life. In one night, it had all changed and here he was, in a mental institution with two strangers who he wasn't sure he could trust.

"Good luck," Meg simply said.

Sam knew to be gentle. It was rather obvious that the kid had no idea what he was in for. He was close to tears when Sam had found him running off with the tablet. "But you don't know what it is?" Sam asked, to which Kevin shook his head. "Open it."

Hesitantly, Kevin consciously summoned movement in his trembling hands, unzipping the duffel bag. A feeling of momentary relief swept over him as he held a piece of the tablet in his hand, and then another one. Magic tingled in his fingertips as he put the two pieces together, sealing them with a brief flash of light. It seemed so sensible and natural to him that he didn't even question it at first. As he focused on the inscription on the tablet, he felt a strange mingling of clarity and blurriness, like he was straining his eyes really hard but could see things clearer than he ever had before. "It's writing," he stated.

"Yeah. Yeah, we get that." Sam nodded, beckoning the kid to go on.

"What's… Leviathan?"

Sam's eyes widened. "What? You can read it? Is that what it says?"

"Sort of. It hurts a little. Like looking through somebody else's glasses, but I think it... it's about Leviathan, how it came to be. God locked him up far away, right?" Kevin almost wandered into a daze, waves of understanding flowing into him from staring at the tablet. "Like in jail... because they're so... they're... they're real, aren't they?" A sense of impending doom washed over him, though he couldn't quite place the source of his discomfort. He looked away, wanting to see something that felt solid for a change. After what he'd experienced in the past 24 hours, it had finally dawned on him that this inexplicable thing in his hands was referring to something very real and tangible.

"Yeah, Kevin. I suppose they… they are," Sam inferred, not entirely certain himself. "What else does it say?"

"I don't know. It's not like _reading_ reading. It-it's hard to focus on it too long."

A soft rumbling noise sounded, causing Meg to perk up and display her demonic eyes. "Sam. Something's up."

"What?" He looked around, anticipating the worst. Kevin's heart raced as he too scanned his surroundings, wondering what could possibly happen next that could outdo what he'd already seen. That's when his innocent eyes caught Meg's. A loud scream escaped his lips as he scrambled backwards on the bed, taken aback by the lifeless, evil abyss that was the demon's eyes.

"Kevin, hey, hey, hey," Sam reassuringly put up his hands towards him, signalling him to calm down. "Kevin."

The rumbling noise grew louder and louder and with a loud 'crash', the bedside lamp shattered, taking all of them by surprise. "Demon," the angel snarled as she appeared in the doorway. Another flap of wings sounded and a man appeared – another angel. With a flick of the hand, Hester flung Meg over to the far wall with as much effort as it took to swat a fly. "A demon whore and a Winchester... again," she snarled. Instinctively, Sam stood between the angels and Kevin. "Step away from the Prophet!" Hester ordered.

Kevin's gaze flickered anxiously between Sam and the angel. "Who, me?"

"Sole keeper of the word on earth, we are here to take you," Hester dictated, sounding as reassuring and compassionate as a robot.

Kevin shrank further into his seat. "What do you mean, "take"?"

Ignoring him, Hester simply ordered Inias, "Kill the demon and her lover."

"That's not how it-" Meg's voice quavered as she stood up, still weak from being tossed around like salad. "We're not-" Reacting instantaneously, Meg swung at Inias with an angel blade as he prepared to smite her, opening up a nasty cut on his palm that spewed angel grace. Shocked, the angel simply stared at his own stinging hand.

Hester herself was not exempt from the shock of the unexpected retaliation. "Where did you get that?!" she demanded to know.

Before she could get an answer, another rustling of feathers sounded and the angels turned to find yet another revelation. Standing before them was a sight that they would have never expected to see – a fallen friend, a trusted leader, a mourned member of their community. "Castiel?" Inias managed a weak smile.

"Hi," Castiel grinned, recognising them.

"You're alive?" Inias beamed. With everything that had gone down in Heaven since the war, with Naomi and Raziel butting heads all the time, with uncertainty about the future of their kind looming over them, Inias was simply relieved to see the one who had given them direction in a time of ambivalence.

Hester, on the other hand, was filled with rage at the same thought. "You," she growled.

"Hello, Hester," Castiel greeted with kindness in his eyes and nothing but love for his brethren.

"You smote thousands in Heaven," Hester began her tirade. Her voice was guttural, its rough intonation cutting the air like a saw. Somehow this subtlety was lost on Castiel. "You gave a big, scary speech. Then you were gone. What the hell was that?"

"Rude, for one thing," Cas responded, oblivious to the seriousness of her anger.

"Where have you been?" Inias asked, hope in his voice that there was a good explanation for all of this, for why he'd left them as lost sheep.

Castiel wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Oh, Inias. Hester, I... I know you want something…" he began, plucking words out of thin air as he held their gazes. "…answers. I... I wish it could be that…" he stammered. "There are still many things I can teach you. I can offer, um, well, perspective. Here." He put up his index finger. "Pull my finger." The audience wasn't reacting well this time. The angel began to panic, seeing as his filibuster was ineffective. "Uh... Uh... Meg will- will get another light, and I'll- I'll blow it out again. And, well, this time, it'll be funny, and- and we'll all look back and laugh." The angels looked at him quizzically, quickly catching on to the fact that something was wrong with him.

"You're insane," Hester declared.

"Hey," a rough voice interrupted. "Heads up, Sunshine." Dean slammed his palm against the wall, activating the angel-banishing sigil. With a bright flash of light, all the angels were cast away. "All angels blown back to their corners. We got like three, four hours tops."

Sam heaved a sigh of relief. Still, something bothered him and he turned to the demon. "Meg, where did you get that?"

She simply shrugged. "A lot of angels died this year."

As the younger Winchester was about to drill her about it further, he was interrupted by a now flustered Kevin who decided that there was just too much happening around him for anything to make sense. "What's happening?" he screamed, tears blurring his vision. His heart palpitated wildly, unsure of what was real and what was not anymore. "What's happening?!"

Dean simply stared in confusion. "What is _that_?"

"It's, uh... Kevin Tran," Sam gulped, unsure of how to explain the situation. "He's, uh, in advanced placement."

The three of them remained silent as Kevin gathered his thoughts. Sam even handed the kid some water to soothe him. "So uh… these Leviathans…" he enunciated slowly. "These monsters are real. And angels with wings?"

"Leviathans?" Dean gave Meg and Sam a puzzled look.

"The original rejects," Meg explained. "Way before angels and demons, God made Leviathans. He locked them up in Purgatory. You know, the one poor little Castiel tried to bust open?"

"Right," Dean acknowledged monotonously. "So, Kevin, you can, uh, read the chicken scratch on the God rock, huh?"

"Uh, I…" Kevin stuttered.

"That is back in one piece, I see. And you're saying that there's some sort of uh… God's to-do list in there somewhere?"

Kevin took a deep breath. "I-I don't know what you're saying, but it seems kind of like an "in case of emergency" note. What did they mean by "prophet"?"

"Oh, no," Dean's face fell, turning to Sam. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, tilting his head to say 'believe it'. "Yeah, that's what the angel said."

"I don't want to be a prophet!" Kevin shook his head in denial, feeling tears sting his eyes again.

"No. You don't at all," Dean agreed.

"Gentlemen," Meg interjected. "We've got to start running and hiding. Or do you want to tangle with those wing nuts twice?"

"I'm sorry. Did you say "we"?" Dean shot her a vexed glare.

"I'm on the angels' radar now. You think I don't need a little safety in numbers?" she reasoned.

Sighing, he relented. Only because she proved to be useful after telling them about the Leviathans. "All right, we'll go to Rufus' cabin. Kid can do his book report there," he decided.

* * *

 _ **Rufus' Cabin, Whitefish, Montana – 27 October 2011, 7.34pm**_

As discreetly as she left, Meg hoped to enter silently but as soon as she stepped through the door, her path was halted. She felt the familiar confinement of the Devil's trap. A light flickered on, revealing the Winchesters, who'd been anticipating her very arrival.

"Didn't expect to see you back," Sam admitted.

"Yeah, not without the King's army," Dean added. He extended a palm to her. "Knife."

Reluctantly, Meg handed over her angel blade. "Typical. I save our bacon, and you're sitting here, waiting by a devil's trap." She rolled her eyes, tired of having to explain herself. "Seriously, I just killed two of Crowley's men. I could have gone the other way on that."

"It's true, incidentally," Castiel stepped forward, his acute vision sensing the traces of blood on the knife. "There's other demons' blood on that blade."

"Look, I'm simpler than you think." Fed up with the way the Winchesters had been treating her, she decided to be honest. She was already stuck in a Devil's trap without the only weapon she owned and there was nothing left to lose. "I've figured one thing out about this world – just one, pretty much. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes – their mission was it for me."

"So, what? We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from Hell?" Dean questioned.

"I'm talking "cause," douchebag, as in reason to get up in the morning. Obviously, these things shift over time. We learn, we grow. Now, for me currently, the cause is bringing down the King. And I know we'll need help to do it."

"Crowley isn't the only problem this year." Dean remained defiant.

"When are you gonna get it? No matter what else you got on your plate, Crowley's always gonna be a thorn in your ass. He's just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I'm supposed to do. And it isn't screw with Sam and Dean or lose the only angel who'd go to bat for me."

Sensing no deception, Sam rubbed away the chalk outline of the Devil's trap, letting her out. Castiel grinned, satisfied with their progress. "This is good – harmony and communication. Now our only problem is Hester."

"What?" Meg turned to him.

"Well, here, we're hidden from the Garrison, but when you killed a demon, you put out a pretty clear beacon," he explained, much to the dismay of the others.

"We need better angel-proofing _now,_ " she said firmly, perhaps a moment too late. Behind her, the door bust open, shattering into pieces as Hester arrived with Inias and some back-up.

"You took the Prophet from us?" she angrily exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

"I'm- I'm sorry?" Castiel tried.

Undeterred, Hester simply glared at him with a disappointed intensity. "You have fallen in every way imaginable."

"Please, Castiel," Inias begged. "We have to follow the code. Help us do our work."

"He can't help you," Dean announced. "He can't help anybody."

"We don't need his help... or his permission," Hester spat out bitterly. Hester nodded to Inias, who took his cue and disappeared. "The Keeper goes to the desert tonight." Just then, Inias reappeared, frightened prophet in his hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back off. There's no need for all of… this. We don't want any trouble." Dean tried to reason with them. The angels were unconvinced. "Look, just give us some time, okay? We will take care of your Prophet."

"Why should _we_ give _you_ anything... After everything you have taken from us?" Hester grew more impatient by the second. Years of silenced anger and shame bubbled to the surface, exploding in that moment. "The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost! For that, you're going to pay."

Hester charged towards Dean but Castiel rushed to stop her. "Please. They're the ones we were put here to protect," he pleaded.

"No, Castiel." With a swing of the arm, the back of her hand struck his face and he fell ceremoniously, taken aback by the sudden force. Not wasting a second, the Winchesters took a step forward to help him back up but they too were stopped by the angels blocking them. Two fingers held up by each angel threatened to hurt them and so they were left to do nothing but watch as Hester assaulted their friend.

"No more madness!" Hester threw a punch at a kneeling Castiel. "No more promises!" Another punch. "No more new Gods!" She rained punches on him, holding him up by the collar so he wouldn't easily fall to the comfort of the wooden floor of the cabin. Her madness reigned victorious as Cas bled from various broken bones on his face. He passively received her fury, finding it to be less than what he deserved for the things he'd done. He thought of it as his penance, the only way for making up for his mistakes since he couldn't fix them. Wanting to finish the job, Hester raised her blade.

Inias, who'd been watching with a sinking heart all along, stepped in at a crucial time. "Hester, no!" He held her arm back, begging her not to go through with it. "Please! There's so few of us left."

Unfazed, Hester simply knocked Inias back with her fist, turning back to Castiel. "You wanted free will. Now _I'm_ making the choices." Castiel thought this was the end for him. In that one second, he decided he wouldn't fight it. He felt unworthy of life and once again, he wondered why God put him back together. His eyes shut tightly, he waited for the sharp sting of the angel blade but it never came. A stifled scream sounded as a blade pierced through Hester's abdomen, evoking a bright white light. With a howl of pain, she died, falling limp to the floor.

A self-satisfied Meg stood before him. "What? Someone had to."

The angels exchanged surprised looks, none moving immediately to avenge their dead leader. That probably said more about Hester than it did about them. "We skirmished with a group of demons and Hester sacrificed herself to save us," Inias nodded at his companions, who reciprocated the gesture. The Winchesters simply sighed in relief, helping Castiel up and making sure he was okay.

"These are strange times," Inias said to Castiel once they had some time alone.

"I think they've always been," Castiel remarked, glad that he still had friends in Heaven.

Inias gave him a warm smile, placing a comforting arm on his shoulder. "I wish you'd come with us. Our brothers and sisters will be relieved to see you," Inias suggested. "Heaven needs you."

"Oh, I'm not part of the Garrison anymore, Inias. I'm sorry," Castiel refused. He knew he was in no condition to be a fighter again. In fact, he was tired and afraid that he would screw something up again if angels put their faith in him.

At the table, Kevin handed over a notebook to Sam. Flipping through the pages, Sam found translated notes from the tablet. "Thanks, Kevin. Not a lot of people could have handled this," he said, looking forward to read the mysteries that would unravel from the translations.

Dean walked over to them, calmed down de-escalation of the situation. Things could have gone horribly wrong with what Meg did, provoking the angels, but somehow that didn't happen. And it was perfectly fine by him. "You doing all right there, "chosen one"?" Dean addressed Kevin.

The prophet nodded, feeling safer than he did mere minutes earlier. Now that he got some sense of what was going on, he had some hope that he was with the good guys. "Yeah."

"Are you ready, Kevin Tran?" Inias approached them. The two angels who came with him stood at Kevin's sides protectively. "Bring the Keeper to his home. We can watch over him there," Inias ordered. With that, the angel squad disappeared.

Dean reappeared after momentarily searching the cabin. "I couldn't find Meg anywhere," he reported.

"Yes, well, she enjoys laying low," Castiel explained. _She'll probably turn up again sooner or later,_ he thought.

Meanwhile, Sam scanned the lines and lines of notes in the book. "Here: "Leviathan cannot be slain but by a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen." Wow, it's a whole manual in here about how to get rid of Leviathan."

Dean frowned in concentration as he read parts of it over Sam's shoulder. "Yeah. Looks real handy. Too bad we're not fighting Leviathans."

"Yeah. So this is basically useless to us," Sam sighed. "This was what we spent that last few months hunting?"

"Hey, save it for a rainy day. You never know," Dean advised, though he too despaired to think that everything they did after Bobby passed was basically to find something that wasn't even relevant to them.

"I, for one, am _glad_ that you don't have to fight Leviathans, Dean," Cas commented. "We fought a whole war against them." The boys looked on intently as he elaborated. "And funny, isn't it? It was Sophia who led that war. No wonder she was so determined to stop me. Oh well, wisdom is wisdom." He chuckled at the irony of it all. The 'evil' one doing the saving.

"It's always gotta lead back to Sophia, don't it?" Dean lamented. "What are you gonna do, Cas?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, grinning. "Isn't that amazing?" Just like that, he took off, leaving the brothers alone.

"What now?" Dean asked. Sam continued to read through the pages, taken by curiosity.

"I guess it's… business as usual, then."

* * *

 _ **Some bar, Montana – 27 October 2011, 9.07pm**_

The sound of country rock wafted in the background as Meg slid up to the counter, ordering herself a drink. The setting was casual, with a small group of people lounging about and playing pool. That was a close call with the angels and she just needed some time off, alone to dwell on her next course of action. For a demon, she was emotionally drained, not that she had many emotions to begin with. It had just been one shit-show after another, running from demons and angels. After all of that, she just wished the egghead brothers would finally realise that her best interests were in helping them take down Crowley and nothing more. _It's hard to find good friends these days,_ she thought.

The air changed. She caught a whiff of something she really didn't want to deal with. "Been looking for you, kitten," a calm, British voice said behind her.

She spun quickly, armed with her angel blade. "Crowley," she growled.

"That's _King_ Crowley for you, sweetheart," he smirked that usual smug smile.

"You'll never be _my_ king," she hissed. Everyone else in the bar straightened up, facing her with black eyes. She raised her blade, ready for confrontation. Crowley snapped his fingers. Two of them rushed towards her and she swung at them. She managed to stab one of them before two more demons stepped in, knocking the blade from her hands and apprehending her. Blood gushed from her mouth as she endured an avalanche of punches to the face and stomach. Finally, as they paused and she spat out blood, Crowley observed her with the blade in his hands. "Do it already," she challenged.

"What, kill you? Don't be absurd, darling," Crowley said. "I've got special plans for you." Meg's eyes widened at the thought and she rushed to the first plan that came to mind. In her mind, she repeated Castiel's name. She knew it was probably a long shot since angels didn't have the habit of listening to demons' prayers, but she knew that he'd come help her anyway. "Oh, and don't bother trying the angel. I'm afraid Castiel's a bit busy at the moment. But thanks for tipping off Rosco, by the way."

* * *

 _ **Kevin's House, Michigan – 27 October 2011, 8.25pm**_

A sharply-dressed woman with dark hair and blue eyes stood in Mrs Tran's kitchen. "We're doing everything we can, Mrs Tran, believe me," Naomi reassured her.

Mrs Tran could not help but continue to worry. "He said he'd had a s-seizure. What– what if they hit him? What if he has a brain injury?"

"You need to trust us, okay? It won't help to wear yourself out with worry," Naomi consoled her. It was rare that she put on the mask of a comforter. Just as she'd expected, the angels arrived, the prophet safe with them.

"Mom?" Kevin felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. He was finally in familiar territory.

"Kevin!" She opened her arms, welcoming her son in an embrace. _Now_ she could breathe easy. Of course, she was startled by the sudden appearance of the two beings who'd brought Kevin. "Who are you?"

"It's- it's okay, Mom. They brought me back. They're keeping me safe," Kevin explained. "They're angels."

"Angels?" she simply looked on with astonishment. She then looked to the woman she'd been talking to this whole time, who didn't even flinch. "You're not really a detective, are you?"

"That I am not. But I am glad that there is no deception between us now," Naomi began. "Mrs Tran, we'll be taking your son to a safe-house."

"What? Why?" she frowned.

"It is the rule. He must continue his study in the desert," Naomi answered, providing little to no detail other than what was immediately necessary.

"But… but he has his whole life ahead of him," she defended. "He still hasn't started college!"

A strange feeling of impending doom grew in the pit of Kevin's stomach. He wasn't sure he liked where this was headed. "We'll make sure Kevin gets the education he needs with us," Naomi nodded, smiling to hide her impatience. She moved to place a hand on Kevin's shoulder but Mrs Tran simply held him closer to her, protecting him. Naomi simply flicked her fingers, separating them harshly. "Don't stand in our way, Mrs Tran. The fate of the world rests on it." With that, she grabbed Kevin's arm and the lot of them simply disappeared, leaving a frightened Mrs Tran.

 _ **Back in Heaven…**_

Having taken care of that, Naomi returned to her office in Heaven, a quaint little room with no windows. She preferred it that way, without all that distraction from the changing sky and air to disturb her. She sat down at the table to finish up some paperwork. For once, she smiled genuinely, reflecting on her successes. She managed to locate the Leviathan tablet and prevent it from reaching the grasp of Raziel. She had the Winchesters to thank for that. Now she was ahead of her competitor and one step closer to attaining all the secrets to winning the trust and loyalty of her brethren as well as leading her kind towards a vision of order for all of them. And with one more ace up her sleeve, she would be unbeatable. When she finished her paperwork, she got up for a little R&R, except her 'R&R' was… unusual – something that came as sort of a present, really. But when she found out about it, creativity flowed through her like an elixir. And they say angels are all simple-minded. If only they knew her history.

Her finger traced the grooves on the wall behind her desk, finding that familiar spot which dug in at her touch. A 'click' sounded and a door opened, one that was typically inconspicuous to the untrained eye. She stepped into the brightly lit room. At its centre was a table full of her favourite instruments, ones she'd trained with for millions of years. Normally, her department had ample space to house several angels at once, but the one in Naomi's office was specifically made for her privacy and reserved only for the most special of angels. Like the one she had strapped to a chair right now.

His blue eyes grew alarmed to see her and he struggled against the metal cuffs that bound him to the chair. He protested but his words were muffled by the gag tied around his mouth. "Shh…" she hushed him gently. "Don't worry, Castiel. When I'm done with you, you will be good as new." She picked up a drill-like instrument, its whirring sound sounding sinister. "Look at all that damage," she said as she stared deep into his eyes. "Is that any state for an angel to be in?"


	52. The End of Paradise

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 52: The End of Paradise**

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 29 October 2011, 4.33pm**_

Zara felt a tingle at the back of her neck. She thought nothing of it at first. She just kept walking on the sidewalk towards the pub. Her shift would start soon and she preferred showing up early to help with serving drinks and logistics. Then it hit her again and her heart palpitated in her chest. She stopped abruptly, posing an obstacle to people walking behind her. Ignoring their remarks, she looked around, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Cars cruised down the street, an old man fed bread crumbs to the pigeons in a park across the road and people played with their dogs. Just an ordinary day. No cause for panic. Zara carried on. She'd barely taken a few steps when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Repressing a shudder, she blinked her _kohl_ -lined eyes, activating _angel vision_ – a little trick that allowed her to see through Sophia's eyes, even if the archangel wasn't there(it had something to do with her ability to channel angel magic, she thought). People appeared normal – their souls glowed blue, like nonluminous fire. That's when her eyes caught something different. A black, smoky being. It watched from the park, blocked only by the newspaper it held up. Zara gasped. _A demon._ Her heart was beating so fast she worried that it might jump out of her chest. She immediately averted her eyes and walked in the cover of a group of people, hoping that the demon wouldn't notice her.

Her stomach turned in its seat, brewing anxiety in the deep recesses of her mind. As she entered the pub, she tried her best to put it out of her mind but thoughts of the demon swirled in her head every time she closed her eyes. She kept telling herself that it was probably a coincidence and that there was no way that the demon was there for her. But no amount of consolation soothed her tense muscles and the horror-show running in her head. So far, things had been so good for her and Nick. They began to enjoy life, though it had its challenges. They were happy together and actually liked each other's company. She prayed so hard that it was what it was. _Luc, I think I saw a demon,_ she prayed. _I hope he isn't after me but I can't be sure. I feel like I just began being happy. Is this how it ends?_ Just pretending that the little archangel could hear her made her feel better already. But just in case, she dialled Nick. "Hey, before you swing by later, could you… maybe… bring my blade?"

" _Your blade?"_

"Yeah, it's in that leather bag. Hide it in a jacket or coat or something."

" _No, I mean… why? Is everything okay?"_

"I don't know," her voice was almost like a cry. It was like how people sound when they don't know what to expect and thought that they could be going crazy. "It's probably nothing. But it doesn't hurt to be safe, y'know?"

" _O…kay…"_ Nick drawled. _"Will do, sugar plum."_ She managed a smile at that. She got butterflies in her stomach every time he gave her a cute nickname. _Can't believe I missed out on_ that _for so many years._ The last boyfriend she had disappeared mysteriously without leaving a trace and she was just left to wonder whether it was her fault. And maybe that contributed a little to her single-status throughout college and its accompanied virginity. And then she wryly thought, _can't believe I lost my virginity to the Devil._ She huffed, almost laughing. She felt safer already.

Later, as her real job as a singer began, she scanned the crowd and was reassured by the sight of Nick in the promised coat. When he caught her gaze, he patted his side as though to confirm that he had the blade. The whole time she was there, she was just waiting for the ball to drop and for the earth to explode or something. But things seemed eerily calm. In fact, it was a great shift with a particularly enthusiastic audience. The crowd was quite good and Cecil, her boss, seemed quite pleased with her work, even adding a bonus. Yet she still didn't trust the laughter and reward, ever so sceptical of the universe. When she was done and out of everyone's sights, she scanned the room with _angel vision_ again, heaving a sigh of relief to find that everyone had a normal soul.

The feeling of a warm hand resting on her arm caused her to flinch. "Whoa," Nick held his hands up in surrender. "Are you okay? You seem a little on-edge."

She exhaled and shook her head, unsure of how to word it. Grabbing his arm, they both headed out and back home. Zara hooked her arm around his elbow as they sauntered in the midnight breeze. "I uh…" she rubbed her sleepy eye, though she was just worried she would sound crazy. "I thought I saw a demon," she said as she looked around them in the dark street.

"A- a demon?" Nick frowned, trying not to think of the worst possible scenario immediately. He was just trying to be rational and think of all the possibilities first, not wanting to rush to conclusions. "You saw a demon?"

"Yeah, a demon. Black eyes, black soul – demon," Zara spat out, hopelessness filling her voice. She felt like her grave was already waiting for her. "In the park a few blocks away. He was reading a newspaper."

Nick nodded slowly but it was more in contemplation than in agreement. He was still unable to piece together how that made sense or how to think about it. And from how flustered she seemed, he wanted to remain level-headed to keep her calm. "Zara, lately you've been acting strange…" It was true. The nightmares haunted her every night. She barely got enough rest most nights. Yet she became restless, always moving around and going for walks. When she was home, she'd stare out the windows often at the streets, not even trusting the empty quietness of the nights. A quivering feeling in the pit of her stomach also prevented her from maintaining normal eating habits. Nick was beginning to get worried that she could be having some kind of anxiety disorder. It wasn't easy to watch someone you cared about slowly go insane while they constantly denied it.

"It's not that, Nick. I know what I saw. It _was_ a fucking demon!" Her grip on his arm tightened.

"There's that mouth again," he sighed, noticing her furrowed eyebrows. It became her default expression. She was quick to anger these days, whenever he pointed out her unhealthy eating and sleeping habits. "How can you be so sure, anyway? Maybe you're just being paranoid."

"I'm not," she didn't give up, constantly looking back to make sure they weren't being followed. Observant as ever, Nick noticed her shallow breaths, paled skin and fidgety behaviour.

"Zara, stop," he halted, pulling her in front of him so that they were standing opposite each other. "I'm worried about you…" He noticed her looking over his shoulder so he rested a palm gently against her neck and his thumb nudged her cheek, bringing her attention back to him. It was this tenderness that snapped her out of it momentarily, being a refreshing change from the tumultuous noise inside her head. "Hey, look at me." Zara looked into them, the deep abyss of his icy blue eyes. It always felt like the road between their souls. "And all these dreams you've been having recently… maybe it's a side-effect? You should get it checked out."

"Checked out? I don't think doctors are going to know what's up with me," she huffed, quick to defend her waning sanity. Her eyes held a kind of desperation like her head was going to explode if she didn't know what was going on. Nick ran through different lines of reasoning in his head, seeking one that would calm her down and rationally evaluate whether she actually saw a demon or not. Because right now, she seemed a bit overwhelmed. Her strong heartbeat pulsed under his palm and he'd noticed that she was a little more than jumpy. Her sharp brown eyes, accentuated by her ancient _kohl_ , somehow managed to look both weary and fully alert at the same time.

"Yeah, well, I want you to do _something_. Because right now, you're just going off of your feelings and that's not going to be accurate. You're just making yourself paranoid!" He sighed, uncertain that anything he was saying was actually going into her head. "I mean, how could you even know that it was a demon unless it was standing close enough for you to see its eyes?"

"I just know, Nick," she said firmly. "Trust me."

"How?" He remained unconvinced. It wasn't that he didn't want to believe her. Things had been going well for them and her bringing up literal demons of the past was just holding them back, he thought. The moment they decided to forget the archangels was the moment they decided to have a future for themselves. And for the first time in a long time, Nick finally _saw_ a future for himself. With her. They may not have known each other for very long, but they both knew they only had each other and they would stick by each other no matter what. Nick even thought… there was a possibility for a real happy ending – marriage and kids and all that. All this talk of demons was just putting a damper on their happiness.

"Because I just do. I have a thing that helps me see demons," she explained, using a finger to point to her lined eyelids.

"How convenient," he threw his arms up.

"I'm not kidding!" she hooked her arm around his elbow and they began walking again. "It was a gift from Lucifer to Sophia and whenever I use it, it's like I'm seeing through her eyes." A small, demure smile lit up her face - a hard-won victory. "It's… kinda sweet actually, now that I think about it," she chuckled shyly. Though she didn't know much about the history between Lucifer and Sophia, just thinking about how such ancient beings must have come to love each other so deeply restored her hope in romance.

"Lucifer's a smart guy," Nick smirked. "He got his lady make-up." Zara shot him a bored look. "What? It's a gift that has utility. Not like flowers or food. You know, I never understood that."

"It's just a romantic gesture. It doesn't _need_ utility," she argued. Admittedly, she was a sucker for some good flowers or chocolate.

"Sure, but with a useful gift, she'd think about him every time she used it. Now _that's_ romantic," he stood his ground.

"Well, what if you're out of ideas?" Zara pressed. They continued like this with light-hearted banter till they reached home, unhindered. Soon, the demon was completely out of her mind, like it was never there.

Across the road, from a dark alley, a figure watched her. Under the cloak of shadows, his red eyes flashed momentarily and a satisfied smile spread across his face. His job was done – the demon was gone. He crept backwards further into the darkness, never to be noticed by a single witness, only known to an audience of one. _Stay safe, Zara…_

* * *

 _ **Back in Heaven…**_

Raziel averted his eyes in shame. He didn't even want to look it. "Here we have it, brothers and sisters," Naomi spoke in front of a small group of select angels, consisting of people from her department and Raziel's as well as a few other influential angels. She held in her hand the Word of God like a trophy. "The Leviathan tablet. And we have the prophet too." The audience clapped, Raziel and team only joining in reluctantly for the sake of politeness. "This is just the beginning of a series of victories for us. When we regain possession of the other tablets, our kind will truly be safe and free to learn that which will strengthen and protect us." More applause ensued in agreement.

"This is bad," Raziel mumbled as his crew gathered furtively around him later.

"Don't worry too much, boss," Dinah said, chewing gum in her mouth as always. "It's just the Leviathan tablet. It's not that important anyway. We'll get the other two."

"Yeah, and we should be glad that the tablet is safe in Heaven anyway," Rahab added.

"That's not the point. This is under our jurisdiction. We should have been the ones to safeguard it," Raziel lamented. "How did she get to the tablet so quickly anyway?"

"I'll tell you how," Naomi interjected, entering their circle. "You were careless and I cleaned up your mess, proving once again that you lot are replaceable." She shot a smug smile in Raziel's direction. "Just give up now, Raziel. You've fought well. You and your team are welcome to serve us in the new order, where your skills can be put to better use."

"Save it," Shemsiel snapped, rolling his eyes under ray bans. "We don't like what you're selling."

"Don't be too quick to judge," Naomi advised in her sly, self-assured tone. "You may change your mind once our brothers and sisters find out about your mentor's hobbies." The team exchanged mortified expressions, shocked that Naomi was aware of Sophia's pursuit of Lucifer's freedom. "Who do you think they'll rally behind when they hear that Lucifer's free? And more importantly, who do you think they'll blame for it? Just some food for thought."

"Okay, what the hell?" Shemsiel whispered sharply as soon as Naomi had gone off to chat with other angels in important positions. "How did she know?"

"I don't know but she's always a step ahead of us," Pahaliah inferred, her thinly-pencilled eyebrows creasing into a frown. "She's hiding something."

"She's head of intelligence. Of course she's hiding something," Shemsiel dismissed.

"But this time, she's stepping onto our turf," Pahaliah said firmly. "She's playing dirty. We need to get ahead of it."

"Pahaliah's right," Raziel agreed. "If we find out what she has up her sleeve, we can avoid getting side-stepped by her again." He paused, contemplating on their next strategy. "How are we looking on the repository front?"

"It's bad," Rahab informed them sombrely. "It's like the vessel just vanished off the face of the earth."

"Did you try the GPS on her phone?" Shemsiel suggested.

"Her phone's off."

"Great, a technologically-informed human. Just what we need," Shemsiel sighed.

"Keep looking," Raziel ordered. "We can't afford to give up on this. It's the only thing we have that she doesn't."

As silence eclipsed their conversation, they belatedly wondered how Sophia might have handled the situation. No doubt she was capable of taking control and proving to the angels that she could be on their side. She hated being a leader in the strictest sense of the term. She preferred to be more of a collaborator or mentor, having influence but never wielding it overtly. It was less conducive for tyranny and it was definitely the kind of approach that would restore the faith of the angels in her. But what Naomi knew would jeopardise that. If the angels ever found out that Sophia tried to release Lucifer, they would freak out. Even Sophia, they could learn to accept albeit begrudgingly – she was not out to destroy the world. Lucifer was a different matter altogether – he was the condemned one and the one who condemned Sophia. Lots of different opinions on who was to blame for what floated around but this was the most popular one. Heart heavy with despair that Sophia might never return in time to help them, Raziel formulated a different plan in his head. This time, he would work secretly and alone.

* * *

(Zara POV)

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 1 November 2011, 7.33pm**_

"Boxes are all checked and labelled," Zara reported, patting a cardboard box as a sign of accomplishment. She stood in a storage room at the back of the pub which was full off boxes that had a large stock of alcoholic drinks of all kinds. They'd just received a new delivery and Cecil needed help taking inventory.

"Wow, that was… fast," Cecil remarked, eyebrows raised.

"They don't call me nifty for nothin', boss," she gloated, a fulfilled smile on her face.

"You got that right," he patted her shoulder and returned the smile. "I'm glad to have you with us."

"Aw, you're too sweet, Cecil," she shyly giggled. It meant a lot more to her than he realised that she fit in here.

"I mean it," his eyes firmly held hers. "I don't know what your story is and I won't ask if you don't wanna tell me. But you're a good kid." Zara blushed, averting her eyes to the ground. "Although… I just wanna know, because I'm concerned, are you alright?"

Her head jerked up to see him. Cecil, though he was a stocky man with a scary beard, was really a teddy-bear at heart. In the past few months, he'd looked out for her, given her a job and shared stories of his life with her, imparting his own wisdom – almost like a father. And so she could tell that he was genuinely curious. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe it's just me, I don't know. But you've been acting a little different for a while now, like you're afraid someone's out to get you. I mean, you just spent hours sitting in this dark and musty storage room doing nothing but opening and arranging boxes. I almost forgot that you were in here," he ran a hand through his dark hair, rubbing his scalp in worry. "Is everything okay between you and Nick?"

Zara nodded defensively. "Oh, yeah, he's great. It's _not_ him, I swear."

"Okay… if you say so. But you know you can talk to me, right?"

Zara exhaled slowly. She really didn't know how to put it and as it appeared, everyone around seemed to notice that she wasn't doing okay. In fact, she was also tired of keeping it in, seeing as Nick didn't seem to grasp the gravity of her every instinct telling her that she was in danger. It weighed heavily on her because now she had something at stake – her life with him. "Okay, so…" her eyes narrowed as she searched for the words. "I… maybe… ugh…" she shook her head in resignation, regretting opening her mouth at all.

"Go on," Cecil encouraged.

 _I can't do this._ "I used to… uh… throw in with some bad people and… and I think they've found me and…" her mouth opened and closed with uncertainty, surprised that she even said as much about her current predicament. _How deep in it am I?_ She gave him a half-shrug, like she herself didn't know what to make of the facts. All this ambivalence just felt like a tight brace around her chest and a sinking feeling washed over her. Now she was confused as to why she felt so sad about it but she realised that emotions rarely make sense. "I'm just… trying to get away from that- that life and start fresh… but I think they're after me, Cecil." She let out a sharp exhale, surprised that she ever shared such a personal detail with someone other than Nick. As she collected herself, she realised that Cecil had been quiet. She looked up to see his eyes filled with more concern than was there before.

"It'll be okay, Sarah," Cecil said, using her fake alias. "You've got us now. Me and the boys. We'll make sure no one hurts you. You ever shoot a gun?" He pulled back the side of his jacket to reveal a .45 in its holster.

"Yeah, yeah I can shoot a gun," she answered. Even Nick had let her practise with some of his handguns a few times.

"Good. Get yourself one of these. Cheer up, kiddo," he patted her on the back again. He gave her a solemn nod, making a promise with nothing but the force of goodness in his heart. "You just do your thing out there. No one's gonna get you with us here."

"Thanks," she said, managing a weak smile. Although she knew that guns were probably useless against demons, she did feel reassured by Cecil's willingness to help despite her sketchy background. It was really heart-warming to think that he'd offer to protect her like that, no questions asked about who was after her or why. That was when she recognised the true extent of attachment she'd grown towards this place. In this small corner of a God-forsaken world, she felt safe and protected. She had people that genuinely cared about her and she cared about them too.

Later, after her shift ended, she stayed behind at the bar with Nick. It had been a lively night, as usual, and the sound of the occasional laughter along with people murmuring in conversation was a comforting, constant rumble in the background. She'd ordered two shots and in an instant, the glasses were emptied. She and Nick looked at each other and chuckled, reminiscing old music that they both liked. It was just an ordinary night for the two of them. "We'll have two more," Zara gestured to Cecil, putting up two fingers in the air.

"Maybe the both of you should try the _really_ strong stuff. Just arrived today," Cecil brandished a minimalistic frosted glass bottle which showed an insanely high alcohol content that neither of them had tried before. Normally, Zara would totally be on board with trying new things, no matter the risk, but this time, she had enough foresight to resist because they both needed to get home in one piece.

"Oh it's alright, maybe another time," she dismissed, exchanging agreeing looks with Nick.

"No, I insist," Cecil immediately brought out two glasses and began filling them with the liquid. The way he moved so boisterously with the bottle was a bit unsettling.

"Woah, no- really," Nick shook his head.

"Cecil, stop, please," she got off her seat and reached out a hand to stop him, becoming mildly concerned.

Cecil's hand immediately seized hers, causing her to gasp. "Sit the fuck down, Zara," he growled, giving her hand a good shove which pushed her back into her seat. Zara's heart froze in her chest. Her breath got caught in her throat as her eyes wandered up to his and there they were… stark black.

"Zara, get back!" Nick exclaimed, putting his arms around her and pulling her away. He too was immediately sobered, looking on with sheer horror at the creature before him.

"Oh no, Cecil," Zara's voice became choked as she realised that the paternal man she looked up to was now lost forever.

Wasting no time, Nick dragged her to the door, knowing that running was probably the best means of escape in the moment. A sudden strong wind blew the doors shut, resounding loudly and catching the attention of everyone else at the pub. Silence fell over the room though a few murmurs were audible. _All these people…_ Zara feared to think what was going to happen to them. "Not so fast," the demon teased. Just then, a few demons stepped forward and brandishing guns, began firing at the innocent people. Each gunshot pierced the air without mercy, finding a target no matter the resistance. Screams erupted in the room as people bled and people died. Zara dug her head into Nick's shoulder, consumed by the thoughts of what that meant for them. She flinched every time a gunshot was heard and Nick wasn't unaffected by the scene unfolding before him either. His hold on Zara tightened and his only priority was to protect her, though he felt his stomach churn at the sheer brutality of the evil before him. He wondered what kind of monster he would have to become to face off these demons.

It was almost unreal as the both of them stood, unable to escape and frozen in time. As the last human fell to the ground with a pained groan, the duo simply stared, heaving heavy breaths. Now it was just them and five demons. "There, now we can talk," the demon inside Cecil said, smug smirk plastered on his face. After what seemed like forever, Zara finally snapped out of her daze. Now she had to find a way out of this and she knew it wasn't by cowering. She pulled away from Nick, standing firmly on her own two feet though she shivered on the inside like a leaf in the breeze.

"What have you done to Cecil?" she snarled, getting herself riled up to fight in case it was necessary.

"Oh, Cecil…" the demon looked at his arms and then back at her. "He's screaming for you to run, you know? Such a real sweetheart…" the demon drawled in a Southern accent as he made his way around the counter and leaned against its side as he regarded them. "But you know, he doesn't have _our_ history, Zara."

Her head tilted in confusion. "I don't know what you think we have, pal," she replied sternly. Something about demons just made her skin crawl. Even when they had been accommodating to her in Hell, being around them always felt like being in a cloud of sulfur. Though they wore people, it was almost like she could sense the evil radiating through their skin.

"Oh don't worry about it, baby. I'll make you remember soon enough," the demon's black eyes bore through her as he eyed her up and down, sending shivers throughout her body.

Suppressing a shudder, Zara squinted her eyes and then flipped on _angel vision_ again. That's when she realised that she did in fact know this barbed, perverted prick. " _Martin_ ," she recognised, eliciting a surprised look from Nick. He remembered too – it was the demon that was supposed to be her bodyguard. He was the one who was vexed by the task of looking after her. "Still kicking, are you?" she said, beginning to formulate a plan in her head.

"Sure am, ma'am," he said, fixing his gaze on her.

Taking a deep breath, she confidently took a step forward towards the counter. Nick grabbed her elbow, trying to keep her away from the demon but she placed a reassuring hand on his, urging him to let go. "I'll be alright," she whispered as she nodded slowly, trying to convey with her eyes that she had a plan. Nick frowned back, unwilling to let her walk into a trap but eventually relenting with a "you-better-know-what-you're-doing" nod. Zara sauntered towards the counter and took a seat a few feet away from the demon, resting an elbow on the counter as she faced him. "What do you want?" she asked with a level-headedness so unlike of her.

"Well, now that you ask…" the demon's eyes scanned the room in contemplation. "I want nothing more than to gut you like a fish and string your intestines on the ceiling like party streamers. But we can't all have what we want, can we? I've got orders from the King."

Zara gulped as she looked over to Nick. His left arm discreetly patted his left side, telling her that he came prepared with her blade. _Good, this is good,_ she thought. She had come prepared herself and she just waited for the right opportunity. "Being Lucifer's bitch always suited you," she taunted with a daring bitterness in her voice.

Before she knew it, she felt strong arms grabbing her by the shoulder and neck and slamming her head against the counter. She let out a loud yelp and as Nick instinctively took a step forward to help her, he was stopped by demons who trained their guns on him. Zara groaned in pain as the world spun in her vision and a sharp pain blared from her left temple. A wince escaped her lips as Martin's hands held her neck in an iron grip close to his face. "You better watch that naughty mouth of yours," he threatened, his warm breath brushing against her ear.

"And you better watch your hands," she rebutted through gritted teeth. "Whatever your orders are, I'm sure Lucifer would want us unharmed."

With a hearty laugh, he let go of her and took a few steps back. She exhaled, rubbing her eyes to get her vision to focus again. She thought she might have suffered a concussion but tried to keep it out of her mind, as though wishing it away would work. "Thing is," he stopped to laugh again. "Lucifer-" he doubled over, his laughter only growing. Finally, his laughter faded into a self-assured grin and he rubbed a tear from an eye. "Lucifer's not the King. Not anymore." Her eyes widened and she felt the blood draining away from her face. At least with Lucifer, she had a chance of talking to him. _Who could it be now?_ she wondered, just as the demon was ready to enlighten her. "It's Crowley! You know how much he resents you? Gotta love 'im for that alone! Long live King Crowley."

Her heart sank in its seat. None of that made any sense to her. But it wasn't time to dwell on Hell's politics. All hope faded away. She had to find an escape. This would be easier if the demons didn't have guns. "What does Crowley want?" she decided to ask, to keep him talking. Meanwhile, her hand reached into her satchel, moving slowly not as to attract attention.

"I don't really care, to be honest. He just wants the both of you alive, but that leaves us a lot of space to have fun so don't you worry, sweetie," he wagged a finger at her. _He wants us alive… that's a start._

"Look, you want us, fine," she began. "But you leave Cecil alone. You leave him _alive_."

"You're not in any place to be making demands!" he snarled. He pulled out Cecil's .45 and pressed it to the bottom of his chin. Before Zara could yell at him to stop, he pulled the trigger. With a loud boom, blood sprayed out the top of his head, splashing the ceiling with his brains. The deafening sound of the gunshot reverberated in her chest. Zara was utterly lost for words. She simply gaped, her face contorting into an expression of hopelessness and shock manifested at the same time. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but she tried her best to keep it together. The demon giggled. "Do you see now, Zara? Unlike Lucifer, Crowley doesn't have a soft spot for you. He'll give you the world-class treatment that you deserve." The demon paused, watching the growing look of horror on her face that she tried to mask in vain. "Good talk, but we're kinda running on a deadline, so…" he made a hand gesture at the other demons in the pub, who promptly moved to apprehend the two of them.

"Nick," she cued as she fished out an uncapped bottle of holy water. She splashed it on the two demons approaching her, causing them to hiss and groan in pain. Nick, on the other hand, sprung into action, taking out the archangel blade and stabbing the nearest demon. The other demon grabbed his free arm and he kicked the demon in the gut, doubling him over before driving the blade through him. Zara grabbed a stool by the counter and swung at the two demons, knocking them back and putting distance between herself and Martin as Nick kicked down the door. Wasting no time, they both ran out of the pub with a flustered Martin yelling after them.

"We need to get to the apartment," she said as they turned down an alley to take a shortcut.

"There's no time for that. We need to get a ride out of town!" Nick argued.

"Nick, I need to get the leather bag. It has everything Sophia left with me. The bronze hawk, some books. It might be the only thing we need to survive. We can't just leave it behind!" she reasoned.

They both came to a stop at a junction which was eerily silent at this hour of the night. "Fine. Make it quick."

When they finally reached the apartment building, they both scrambled to pack clothes and other necessities. Hauling their bags into the rented car, they took off, relieved that they weren't interrupted by demons.

* * *

 _ **West Virginia – 2 November 2011, 2.04am**_

Zara's eyes were weary and stung with tiredness. She wished she could sleep but fear kept her awake. The constant drone of the car's engine and the stiff spine of the car seat didn't help either. Neither did her blaring headache. She consoled herself by telling herself that it was good to keep Nick company as he sped down the highway. They were way out of town by now, though they had lost all sense of direction. The plan was to drive until they could be sure that no one was following them, which was a goal so arbitrary that they could probably never be satisfied. _A metaphor for my life_ , Zara thought wryly. Rain pelted the landscape, making the cold night even colder.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," Nick apologised, the sudden sound of his voice startling her. With the loud pattering of the rain, his voice boomed in her ear, making her flinch. She tried her best not to let it show and act normal but the pain in her head just made everything worse. "You tried to tell me that we were in danger and I should've listened."

"It's okay, Nick," she kept her voice as mild as possible. "It's not your fault the demons are after us. If you hadn't met me…" she shut her eyes tightly and put a hand to her head as a car drove past them in the opposite direction on the other side of the road, its headlights blinding her. "… you wouldn't be in this mess," she managed to finish her sentence with a drained voice.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" Nick stole a glance at her. There was a strained expression on her face and she had a hand fixed to the side of her head. "Jesus, is it a serious concussion?"

"I'll live," she grumbled, just as her stomach turned and threatened to heave. "Uhhh…" she groaned. "I just need an aspirin." Her fingers fumbled in the glove box looking for a bottle of aspirin.

"I don't think you're supposed to take an aspirin for concussions…" he worried. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Nick, I'll be fine," she waved it off, popping an aspirin into her mouth and leaning her head back onto the headrest. "Just keep driving and find us a motel to stay in."

The next morning, Zara found herself waking up on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. For a moment she was disoriented, utterly confused about how she'd ended up here. She flinched as the door opened, rushing to grab something to protect herself. "Relax, it's just me," Nick said as he walked in with food in his hands.

Her head still spun a little and she blinked furiously to make it go away, to no avail. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around the room.

"You don't remember?" He set the items on the table and knelt before her, taking her face gently in his palms. "We checked into a motel in the middle of the night. You came in, plopped onto the bed and slept like a baby." He inspected her pupils, checking their relative sizes. "So far, so good…" he remarked, noting that her pupils were equally-sized. "Just take it easy, okay? We'll see a doctor after breakfast."

As they sat down at the table in the motel room to eat, Zara realised she had a greater lapse in memory than she realised. "What happened last night again? I remember bits and pieces… but not the whole thing…"

"What _do_ you remember?" he asked as he dug into a take-away.

"I remember…" Images flashed in her head in an incoherent string. "Shots… guns… demons…"

"That's pretty much it," he confirmed. "Though I'd say it was ballsy of you to talk to that demon that way." Her eyebrows crinkled, struggling to remember the encounter. "You trash-talked Martin… he whammied you," he reminded her with a stern, paternal look.

"Martin…" she recalled. Now it was all coming back to her. "Never liked that imp."

"Yeah, figures," he inferred. "Next time you wanna dangle yourself as bait, give me a heads-up."

"Can't guarantee it, but I'll try."

After much convincing, Nick managed to drag Zara in the general direction of a clinic, holding her hand tightly like he was afraid she would float away like a balloon if he let go. She insisted on bringing her leather bag with her and after what they'd been through, Nick wasn't one to argue. He only wished they had something more… like a gun that could kill demons. A sudden flash of a distinct memory caught him by surprise – he remembered the sudden lurch he felt when Lucifer was shot by the Colt. Being possessed by an archangel meant that he never knew what his body could and could not handle and that was one of those moments when the scene before him just confused him. But Lucifer never bothered to explain things to him. Sophia, on the other hand, gave Zara plenty of information – the two of them shared a more intimate connection.

"Nick, stop," she requested. She detached herself from his anxious grasp and leaned against the outside of a nearby building, pressing a hand to her head. Her tummy wasn't cooperating with her and she felt so nauseous that it felt like taking more steps would cause her to puke her breakfast. She bent forward, pressing her head against the wall and waiting for the spell to pass.

"We're almost there, Zara. Just a few more blocks," Nick said, rubbing her back.

"God, it feels like I'm pregnant again," she lamented. Then she froze, now seriously considering the thought, and looked at Nick. She didn't remember having a period in a while. _I probably just forgot. Must be that concussion._

"Wait, _are_ you?" Nick bent down to her level, scanning her expression. He sincerely hoped not… Not that it would be a bad thing – he would be happy if the circumstances were different – but being on the run from demons and angels made it difficult to think of kids.

"That was rhetorical," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder for support. "I'm not actually pregnant. At least, I don't think I am."

"Zara, a million thoughts are running through my head and this isn't helping," he said slowly, keeping as calm a tone as possible. "How sure are you? Because this…" His voice grew more sombre. "…this changes _everything_."

"I realise that…" she gulped, thinking through her response. "I've been on the pill, okay? I'm not pregnant. It's the concussion that's making me nauseous." Her hand absently rested on her tummy, painfully remembering the joy of having a child. "What do you mean… it changes everything?"

"It means… I'll do anything to protect what is ours," he looked her in the eyes and she could tell from the way he regarded her that he was speaking straight from the heart. "And I mean… _anything_."

She leaned into the comfort of his neck as she felt the spell of dizziness wear off. His arms welcomed her and his hand caressed her cheek. "I… I love you, Nick," she blurted out. And she meant it, truly. She'd never felt this way about anyone before. She knew that to love was a decision and she was sure it was him she would fight for. As his head turned to her, she rested a palm on his jaw and pulled him in for a kiss. He reciprocated, digging his lips into hers with the full force of his affection.

He pulled away shortly, rubbing her chin with a thumb as he gazed at her with gentleness. "I love you too." He kissed her again on the bridge of her nose and her forehead. "Let's just get to the doctor and maybe stop on the way to buy a pregnancy test."

Zara anxiously waited on the toilet seat, holding the test in her hand. It felt like forever as the moments passed. Then, slowly, a vertical line faded into view. Her heart sank. _You poor child…_ she thought in dismay about the chaotic world that this child would be born in. Her world of broken promises and blood sacrifices. As she exited the toilet of the clinic, the positive test in hand and her bag swung over a shoulder, she froze in her step. The smell reached her before anything else – a mix of sulfur and blood. _Fuck._ The clinic was almost empty, though she spotted a pool of blood from behind the reception desk. She chucked the test into a bin nearby and rushed forward. "Nick?" she called out. As she turned the corner, she was greeted by a horrifying sight. There he was, kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind him. Standing behind him were two demons and one held a sharp blade to his neck.

But that wasn't the worst part. "My favourite whore," the demon King greeted, standing between Nick and her.

"Crowley," she growled.

"When I heard what my informants found, I must say, I was surprised," he began. His hands were dug into his pockets with a self-assurance that she could not share. "It's like a two-for-one deal!"

"You keep talking, scumbag. Before Lucifer knocks your teeth in!" she taunted, still confident that the archangel was in a state to help. Without any options left, she prayed. _Lucifer, if you're hearing this… Crowley has me…_

"Oh, don't bother. Lucifer's busy," he told her, anticipating her every move. "He's in a bit of a pickle, thanks to yours truly."

"What-What do you mean?" Zara's heart raced. _Where's Lucifer?_

"He's in a lovely pit in the bottom of the ocean. You might recognise it. It's where you found Sophia." Her jaw dropped and her breath was stuck in her throat. _The vault?_ Her head shook slowly as if to deny the possibility.

"That's… impossible…" she stuttered.

"Well, do you see him showing up?" Crowley held out his arms, awaiting the angel.

Zara's eyes met Nick's. He gestured with his head to ask her about the test, being wary of the blade pressed to the base of his neck. She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to worry him with the truth. If he did anything stupid, that blade would be the end of him. She wasn't going to let him die. But her dismayed eyes told him everything he needed to know. "It's me you want. Let him go," she negotiated.

"Zara, don't-" his protest was cut short by the demon who pressed the blade closer to his neck, almost cutting his skin.

Crowley looked between the two of them, not oblivious to their dynamic. "As above, so below, it seems," he remarked, connecting the dots. "Such a shame. Couple's torture is always the best torture."

"Do we have a deal?" she pressed him.

"Well…" he scratched his salt and pepper stubble. "We _would_ if you were right about what it is I truly desire. But you are so _very_ wrong…"

He waved a finger and Zara immediately felt hands grabbing her from behind. She struggled, pulling at their grasp but these men were much stronger than her. Two men held her tightly while more stood around. As she blinked into _angel_ _vision,_ she saw the most curious thing. These men, in formal suits and all looking pale, were human. None of them were demons. She struggled again, trying to break free. She spun to see Nick's panicked expression and widened eyes that wanted so badly to help. Suddenly, she felt something prick her neck. A soft groan escaped her lips. Her muscles became weaker, every tug and push becoming half of what they were supposed to be. _Wha- What's happening…_ Black spots grew in her vision and her body began to feel heavy. As Zara desperately tried to hold onto consciousness, she managed one last look at Nick. She would never forget his eyes – his angered, resolute eyes that she saw in that dangerous neighbourhood – as the world faded to black and she was hauled away.

* * *

It was dark. It was cold. Zara tried to rub her arms to keep warm but found that her wrists were bound. Her heart raced. Some murmurs sounded to her right. A door opened and she gasped. "Relax. We're not going to hurt you," a voice with a polished British accent said. With some fumbling at the back of her head, the blindfold came off, revealing a brightly-lit interrogation room. Lower lip quivering, Zara shrank back into her seat. She immediately shut her eyes tightly, caught off-guard by the brightness of the room. "Oh, sorry about that," the woman quipped as she adjusted a dial on the wall. The lights grew comfortably dimmer and Zara slowly opened her eyes. "It's quite a concussion you've got there."

Now that she could see properly, Zara studied this woman. She was lean and had blonde hair, with thin lips and dead eyes. "Wh-Where am I? Who are you?" Zara stuttered. She gulped, realising her mouth was dry.

The lady took a seat next to her. "My name is Toni Bevel," she introduced herself.


	53. The British Men of Letters

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 53: The British Men of Letters**

(Zara POV)

It was dark. It was cold. Zara tried to rub her arms to keep warm but found that her wrists were bound. Her heart raced. Her body shivered like a withered leaf. She couldn't see anything and felt what she assumed to be a blindfold wrapped around her head. _Where am I?_ A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, none of them reassuring. Having just roused here, she didn't know what to expect. It was eerily quiet. For all she knew, this could be the end of the line for her. _What then?_ Some murmurs sounded to her right. A door opened suddenly and she gasped, head jerking towards the direction of the noise. "Relax. We're not going to hurt you," a voice with a polished British accent said. With some fumbling at the back of her head, the blindfold came off, revealing a brightly-lit interrogation room. Lower lip quivering, Zara shrank back into her seat. She immediately shut her eyes tightly, caught off-guard by the brightness of the room. "Oh, sorry about that," the woman quipped as she adjusted a dial on the wall. The lights grew comfortably dimmer and Zara slowly opened her eyes. "It's quite a concussion you've got there."

Now that she could see properly, Zara studied this woman. She was lean and had blonde hair, with thin lips and dead eyes. "Wh-Where am I? Who are you?" Zara stuttered. She gulped, realising her mouth was dry.

The lady took a seat next to her. "My name is Toni Bevel," she introduced herself. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. But first, let's get to why you're here." Zara looked around the room. It was plain, like the inside of a concentration camp, consisting only of a cold metal table and chairs. There was a one-way mirror on one wall near the door and a camera fixed to the ceiling. As she looked down, she noticed for the first time that she was in different clothes – a plain black shirt and pants. Who had dressed her? The thought of someone actually changing her clothes made her feel… violated. "I work for the British Men of Letters."

"The what now?" her voice creaked and she coughed.

"You could use some water. I'll be right back," Toni got up, leaving her confused in the room. As the door closed, it was followed by the clicking of a lock. The door was locked from the outside. Great. Soon enough, Toni returned with a glass of water and set it down on the table. Though it was tempting, Zara stayed put. "Go on," Toni beckoned.

"You first," Zara challenged. She wasn't just about to accept a drink from a strange lady in a strange room.

"It's just water, darling, I assure you." Seeing as Zara wasn't convinced, Toni sighed and took a gulp. "See, just water." Regarding her with a suspicious gaze, Zara took hold of the glass with both palms and downed it in one gulp. Never had water tasted so good. With a relieved exhale she set the glass back on the table. "Good."

"Where's Nick?"

"Your boyfriend?" Toni huffed. "He's in better hands, as I hear."

"Crowley's hands?" How could this lady seriously expect her to believe that?

"Unfortunately, I am not privy to the details of the… operation."

"So you don't know where he is?" Zara pressed.

Toni laced her fingers together, ignoring Zara's question. "To answer your initial question: The Men of Letters are… chroniclers. Investigators in the realm of the supernatural," Toni explained. "We're interested in you because you are the vessel of an archangel. Not much is known about the capabilities of archangels, nor their vessels."

"And so…?" Zara narrowed her eyes. She didn't know where this was going but she didn't have a good feeling about it.

"We just want your cooperation. Help us learn more about Sophia and Lucifer." So that was it, then. They wanted to use her to get information. "We can't imagine what you must have been through, being dragged around by two fallen angels. It must have been less than pleasant. You could do a lot of good by helping us. You'll even be duly rewarded."

Zara stayed silent. For a moment she looked down at her handcuffs, observing their metallic shine and tight fit around her bruised wrists. Such a funny name for it… ' _help'._

"We can keep you safe from them, Zara, because we know how dangerous angels and demons can be. You've been on the run from them, I presume. If you help us, we can help you," Toni went on. Zara's wrist grazed the cuffs as a reminder of what their hospitality was like.

There wasn't much to think about that. "How about no," she rejected, staring straight into Toni's robotic eyes. There was no way she was going to snitch on Sophia. It was even ridiculous that anyone could entertain the notion. And after breaking the promise she made to her archangel, she wasn't going to do anything worse. The guilt was weighing on her again. Breaking a promise was one thing, but to intentionally give others the means to hurt Sophia?

"I beg your pardon?" Toni seemed genuinely puzzled.

"You heard me. I'm not doing it. Let me go," she demanded, holding out her cuff-bound wrists. In the back of her mind, she must have known that it wasn't going to be easy to get out of this. But it felt like she had nothing left to lose. She didn't really know where she was. She didn't know where Nick was. She didn't have her blade with her. She was painted into a corner and so she was just doing whatever came to mind. Toni's lips curved into an impatient half-smile as she studied the dishevelled young woman sitting before her.

"I don't think you understand how this works," she slowly warned. Zara noticed how Toni's chin tightened when she spoke, like she was forcefully enunciating every word. She reminded her of the uptight teacher in charge of discipline in high school who she tried to avoid as much as possible. Immediately, Zara knew she resented this woman. "We will get what we need from you. But how comfortable this whole experience is going to be is entirely up to you."

"Lady, if you think I'm going to snitch on an all-powerful being, you've lost your marbles," she shot back, strangely sure of herself.

"Very well then. Enjoy your stay here," Toni said pointedly as she stood up.

 _Stay?_ Zara needed to act quick. Taking a gamble, she shot up and swung the chain between her cuffs around Toni's neck in an attempt to strangle her. As she found out, she greatly underestimated her enemy. Toni reacted with a quickness that she wasn't used to, dodging her attempt at a chokehold. The Brit's agile fist landed a blow on Zara's jaw, knocking her back into her seat with a short groan. Pain flared in her left temple as a reminder of where she'd sustained a concussion, warning her to not try anything like that again. Surrendering to her spinning vision, Zara simply dug her head into her palms.

"I'd think twice next time, if I were you. Especially with a baby on the way," Toni warned.

Zara panted heavily, fatigued from the exertion and the rough few days she'd had. "How did you know about that?" she asked, instantly regretting the move as a sharp ache pulsed in her head.

"We know everything about you, Zara. We have no intentions of hurting you or the baby. But I recommend not forcing our hand." With that, Toni left and two stocky men entered. They grabbed her by the arms and forced her up. She didn't even look where she was going. _That punch really did a number on me_ , she grumbled internally as her eyes shut tightly and her fingers massaged her temples in an attempt to ease the pain. Eventually, she was laid down on a bed in a room somewhere and the cuffs binding her wrists were unlocked. Relieved to move her hands freely, she rubbed her wrists and hugged her arms to her body. Before she could collect herself and ask the two gentlemen who'd handled her so nicely for a painkiller, the door to her room was shut abruptly, leaving her in the dim red glow of the lights from the far wall.

* * *

 _ **Zara's Cell, British Men of Letters' Temporary HQ**_ _**– Probably 2 November 2011, Unknown Time**_

Once the pain had more or less subsided, Zara got up and wandered around the room. It was spacious, with only one bed on one side of the room. There was another doorway that revealed a minimalistic toilet and sink in a room the size of a broom closet. At least everything was clean and spotless - not the worst life for a hostage. As Zara sat back on the bed, she noticed a blinking red light coming from the ceiling. Another camera. She couldn't even scratch her nose without being watched, it would seem. There wasn't even a window in the room so she wouldn't be able to tell if it was night or day.

 _Now what?_ She lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She tried praying again. It was all that was left to do. Thoughts about what might have happened to Nick swirled in her head. She held onto the last image of him she remembered. There was a cold fire burning in his eyes. She saw it whenever she closed her own eyes. He was strong. He would fight for her. And she would fight for him too. Wherever he was, it was now her life's mission to find him. Her hands encircled her tummy, feeling the life beneath them. Now it was about more than just her. Now she had something worth living for. Something worth fighting for. It felt like a connection she had with Nick that spanned the distance between them, wherever he may be. A sudden longing for his large arms to surround her overtook every ounce of will in her body and she almost shuddered at the thought of his absence. There was no comfort for this woman in a lonely bed with nothing but a ghost of a memory haunting her. Uncontrollably, a plump tear fell from her eye and stained the pillow. Zara curled into a fetal position, hairs on her skin standing as they came to terms with the empty coldness of the air. _I should've listened to you, Sophia. I'm so sorry. I was foolish for ever doubting you._

The rustic sound of a door opening caught her attention. She rubbed the tears away and sat up straight. Two men entered and stood guard by the door as a third entered. Against the bright light of the hallway of the outside, Zara could only make out his silhouette. "You're not gonna cause any trouble, are you? Because handcuffs are inconvenient," he said calmly. He too had a British accent and for a moment Zara wondered if she'd magically been transported to Britain. Zara simply shook her head. "Good. You have an appointment now." The man gestured towards the hallway. Slowly, she got up and stepped out of the room under the cautious gaze of the two guards. "I'm Thomas Murray. You can call me Tom," the man said.

She took note of it but didn't say anything in response. He had reassuring brown eyes and coiffured dark hair but Zara didn't look. She kept her eyes on the ground. The cold marble ground was a distinct change from the carpeted interior of the dim room to her bare feet. Quietly, she followed Tom as he guided her down the hallway to a small office that was filled with so many books and other office materials in such an orderly manner that you wouldn't believe that it had only been occupied for just a few weeks. Inside, a man wearing a lab coat and stethoscope waited for her with a smile so wide it achieved the opposite effect of what the man would have intended. "Zara, this is Dr Berg. He'll be your medical consultant here," Tom introduced. _Why… would I need a medical consultant?_ she grimly thought. The longer she stayed her the more it felt like she was in a sci-fi horror movie, with all of the ghastly white walls and people walking about with posh accents and now… her _medical consultant_.

"Hello, Zara. It's nice to finally meet you," the doctor extended his hand eagerly. Again with the British accent. Warily, Zara returned the gesture with a weak grip, which Dr Berg noted and reciprocated with a gentle handshake. He was clearly an experienced doctor, judging from his aged appearance and white hairs on his head and jaw. Exchanging a nod with the doctor, Tom closed the door as he left, leaving the two of them alone. Dr Berg's wide grin faded into a moderate one as he beckoned her to take a seat and sat next to her. "I know this must all be very scary to you, young lady, but I will make sure that no harm comes to you or your child." Again, how did this guy know she was pregnant? Did they run tests on her while she was unconscious? Why did everything everyone said around here make her feel uncomfortable? "First things first, let's check on that concussion. I've been told Lady Bevel got physical with you and I let her know that that is no way to treat a frightened young woman, especially one who is with child." The doc checked her pupils and then her heart-rate. "Tell me, are you experiencing any pain?"

 _In my soul, yes, quite a lot._ "I h-had a headache earlier which seems to have subsided… but I-I still feel it," Zara answered with a weak voice.

"Any other symptoms? Nausea? Memory loss?"

"Not since coming here, no."

"Good, good," Dr Berg nodded. "Then I'll just prescribe some paracetamol with your next meal. Have plenty of rest. And my advice is also to not resist them because you really shouldn't strain yourself physically while recovering from a concussion."

 _Listen, doc, if you think it's gonna be that easy to make me comply…_ "What are they gonna do to me?"

"Oh, nothing much," he answered. "They just want to ask you a few questions and ask you to perform some tasks."

"So basically they're gonna run some tests on me? Like experiments?" She gulped, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

"Crudely put, yes. But like I said, it's no cause to worry because I'll make sure you're well-taken care of. Your safety is my utmost priority, Zara." That one statement sent a shiver through her body. There was no way this man she'd never known before actually meant that. It was always safe to never trust people when they said things like that, she thought. It was something that saved her a lot of emotional distress in the past. "Just cooperate with them and everything will go smoothly." Whoever 'they' were, Zara knew that she didn't like them. Her resentment towards the situation was evident from the way she avoided his gaze and touched her arms like she was keeping to herself.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, speaking slowly so it wouldn't sound like she was yelling at him. More than anything, she was just confused by this whole arrangement. "Why do you even care what happens to me?"

"Because…" the doctor began. "There has to be a… a certain ethic behind what we do here. As Men of Letters, we just want to rid the world of evil. True evil. But in doing so, it is easy to forget that we aim to protect humans. All humans, including you. So we are compelled to follow a code when it comes to interrogating or testing human subjects."

Somehow Zara found that hard to believe. They drugged her and brought her here in cuffs. How humanistic could they actually be? And she got hardcore evil-nurse vibes from Toni so… "In that case… you'll be busy, doc," she quipped.

"If I may just suggest one thing," he held her gaze with a solemn expression. "There is no point in lying to them. They have ways of knowing."

Zara's eyebrows crinkled ever so slightly. "They don't have anything on me. They can't. I'm nobody," she said.

"An organisation like ours… we have access to resources that even your government doesn't. Here, your life is an open book." _Wow, don't creep me out even more or anything._ Zara simply shrank further into her seat in response. Noticing that, Dr Berg sighed and his eyes softened in pity. "I don't mean to put you at unease. All I'm trying to say is… it is in your best interest to cooperate. Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to see you through this pregnancy. But after your child comes into this world, then what? Will you be running from everyone forever? Think about the things the Men of Letters can do for you. A safe home, an education for your child, a life with purpose."

Zara said nothing. _A life with purpose…_ Sophia _was_ her purpose.

"Very well, then." With that, Tom escorted her to another room, similar to the interrogation room she'd been in before. This one was much smaller and it had a camera poised on a tripod opposite her chair. Meekly, Zara rubbed her ankles together in nervous anticipation. Her long, dark hair was let down and hung messily around her face, giving her a more rugged look than she had mere hours earlier. She fiddled her thumbs, trying to stay grounded though her anxious heart wouldn't relent. _What has it come down to?_

Another pair of footsteps accompanied Tom's as they pulled up chairs and sat at the sides of the table, leaving a clear view of her for the camera. "Shall we get started?" Toni said, to which Tom responded with a nod. "So, Zara, tell us about Sophia. What is her relationship with the Devil?"

"You're the experts. You tell me," she said monotonously.

"Hm." Toni held her gaze threateningly, unfazed by the snide remark. "They had a child together. I assume you must have been the carrier." _Carrier._ Was that what they were calling her? The one who had physically birthed the archangel child and loved him like her own? "What was the child's name?"

"Don't know," she shrugged.

"I think you would find it best not to lie, Ms Joshi," Tom advised.

"Not lyin'." She shook her head slightly, not even bothered to speak in full sentences. "I have no clue what you guys are talking about."

"Really?" Toni opened up a file and pulled out a small piece of paper and set it down on the table. Zara's pupils widened in recognition, though she tried her best not to let it show. It was the photograph of her holding Luciel. Did they go through her wallet? How dare they go through her belongings? "So you had no idea that Sophia had used you to give birth?"

"Maybe _you've_ never been the vessel of an archangel, but I can tell you first-hand that once they're in, you don't see anything," she argued. "So no, I don't know what she did with my body."

"See, I refuse to believe that," Toni pressed.

"That's your choice."

"Let me tell you why." Zara could tell that Toni was trying really hard to keep calm. She could tell by the way her chin tightened again and how she spoke slowly that she really wanted to lash out but couldn't. "We here at the Men of Letters believe in the scientific method. We don't believe in trusting mere instinct in dealing with the supernatural. We like to be certain about the claims we make."

"And…?" Zara wasn't really seeing the point to this.

"We have research that proves that the vessel _is_ able to witness the actions of their possessing angels, even if they weren't conscious of it at the time."

Zara looked puzzled. "You have… research… on angels?"

"We do," Tom confirmed. "And as a scientist yourself, you must know how rigorous scientific experimentation can be." That made her gulp. How could they have gotten a willing angel as a participant? She didn't want to think of what the logical next conclusion was.

"You're bluffing," she declared, though there was the slightest hint of reservation in her voice.

"We're not," Toni snapped, getting impatient. Zara held her ground, gazing into Toni's eyes with a fiery intensity that was also reciprocated by the Brit. "But the same can't be said of you."

"Okay," Tom interjected, sensing the tension brewing between the two of them. "Okay. Assuming that what you're saying is true, there must have been some time before you were possessed when you were aware of what was happening."

Okay, she couldn't argue with that.

"You went missing in October 2009. What happened that night?" Tom asked, observing her composure intimately.

"I don't remember it," she lied again.

"Do you remember the psychedelics found in your apartment?" Toni pressed. "You know, the ones you presumably acquired illegally and can be persecuted for." Zara shot her a bored look _. Of course it's illegal._ "Or maybe you remember the spell book and ritual materials you were using."

Zara huffed, smiling at the memory. Such a rudimentary grasp of magic that she used to have _._ _I knew nothing._ "That? I bought that stuff on Ebay. Just for shits and giggles."

"Yet, you managed to summon Lucifer," Toni rebutted with a condescending tone, like she should be ashamed of what she did. "You think the occult is for _shits and giggles_ , Zara?"

"I uh… never actually expected it to work," she admitted, despite herself.

"So you _did_ meet Lucifer that night?" Toni caught on. _Shit._ She defiantly turned her head away, refusing to answer. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Zara, what did Lucifer want from you?" Tom spoke up. "Where did he take you? Which demons were part of his inner circle?"

"I'm still not giving you anything," Zara snapped. The room fell silent. Toni glanced at Tom, who simply sighed and wrote something down on a clipboard. Zara swore she saw a faint smile on Toni's face. What could that mean?

"As you wish," Toni said coolly, before getting up and leaving. She had an unusual confidence about her, almost giving off an aura of excitement. Tom, on the other hand, had a foreboding look on his face as he massaged a temple with a few fingers.

Later, Zara was returned to her cell. She sought refuge in that comforting red glow and dark interior – it reminded her of Lucifer. Suddenly, she felt so silly for ever thinking that he would take out his frustrations on her. And even if he did, it would be temporary because he never did things without reason, not that she recalled anyway. _Why am I so bad at making decisions?_ she asked herself. Again and again, she found herself making the same mistakes throughout her life. It was just who she was. It seemed ironic to her that she lacked the wisdom and foresight that her archangel was known for having.

The noise of a slit in the door opening caught her attention. A tray of food was passed through. For 'prison' food, it appeared quite nutritious. With it came a cup of water and some dubious pills. Dr Berg _did_ say that he was giving her paracetamol. But there was always the possibility that these pills were something else. What if the food was spiked? Curiously, a small piece of paper was tucked under the small plastic bowl of pills. Unfolding it, Zara found a message tailored to her very scepticism: "Think about the baby". _Alright, you freaks._ Swallowing her suspicions, she satisfied her hunger.

When she was done, she put the tray back through the slit and walked about the room, stretching her legs. _What's next?_ Naturally, she was drawn to the part of the room where the red light was strongest. As she admired the hue and how it reflected off the walls, her vision began to blur. _What the hell?_ Her muscles grew weak and a buzzing feeling emanated from the centre of her head, making her light-headed. In the struggle between consciousness and the lack thereof, she tried her best to stay awake though her better instincts drove her to the bed. Unable to fight the dizziness she gave in, plopping her head on the pillow and falling asleep.

* * *

Birds chirped noisily in the distance. Zara snapped out of her daze, quickly recognising where she was. It was the front porch of the house – Sophia's house. An unshakeable calm settled over her like the mystical fog over the acres upon acres of plants in the garden outside. Even knowing where she was and how this place came to be, it never stopped seeming magical to her. Sometimes she doubted whether this was Heaven or earth. A place made and maintained by archangels was bound to bear resemblance to their former home. Evidently, this small corner in Illinois represented their idea of what a home should be like. A soft cooing caught Zara's attention and she looked down. "Oh, hello, you," she giggled as she looked on adoringly at the beautiful bundle in her arms. He was still an infant so she held him so carefully – supporting his neck with one palm and his body with another. He smiled so innocently with rosy cheeks as his enchanting eyes looked into hers – they were light brown with little green flecks that made him look like the mystical creature that he was.

"Such a sweet little thing, isn't he?" A warm hand rested gently on her shoulder and she turned to see Nick standing next to her, just as happy as she was to see the child in her arms. She exhaled contentedly as he kissed her on the temple.

"I think Luc wants to take a walk," she said, eyeing the excited baby. Nick agreed and they both stepped out into the garden, sauntering through the rows of flora. It all looked so vivid and glowing, like they were living an old VHS tape.

"You never told me his name," Nick remarked, his gaze extending into the distance. Truly, the scenery here was breath-taking, especially since there weren't any buildings or roads in sight.

"Oh yeah," she realised, surprised by the fact. "It's Luciel." She smiled serenely, admiring the baby as his tiny hands gripped tendrils of her long, dark hair. "God's blessing, Sophia would say."

"Hm," Nick considered it absurd. "Weird, isn't it, for a fallen angel to invoke God's blessing?"

"I don't think Sophia ever hated God. Not really," Zara answered truthfully. "Can't say the same for myself though," she smirked. They came upon the jasmine bushes and Zara stopped, kneeling down to feel the moist petals of the flowers. "Oh, you could just bathe in the scent!" She took a deep inhale of the sweet fragrance. Luc's hand reached out to do as she did and now he was a little bigger than before, sitting on her waist. _Wait, when did that happen?_

"Why do you say that?" Nick pressed. He was still standing, observing them with quiet tranquillity. "That Sophia never hated God?"

Zara turned her attention back to him, standing up with the child on her hip. They continued down the path demarcated by empty soil. "I don't know. I just never felt like she was doing what she did out of spite. Most of the time, anyway. She had her own mission, like Lucifer did with the apocalypse."

Now that she had a free right hand, Nick intertwined his fingers with hers. It felt so safe and comforting here that Zara couldn't question it. It hadn't even occurred to her to question it. Nick, on the other hand, seemed to have an endless supply of questions. "And what mission would that be?"

"Hmm…" Zara had to think about that one. "They called her the Keeper of Knowledge. I guess she was too attached to the title."

A cool wind blew, feeling so fresh that she had to close her eyes to fully feel it on her skin. Its coldness was piercing like a needle yet she felt comfortably warm. Not even a shiver erupted from her skin. She opened her eyes and frowned slightly, confused by the sensory mismatch. "Who called her that?" Nick asked. This time she looked at him – really looked at him. He gazed at her the way he always did – gently, affectionately, genuinely – with those light blue eyes that could look so lifeless sometimes. Light glinted off his pale skin and blond hair and she observed his features, seeing nothing mistaken about them. But why did he have all these questions?

"The uh… the apprentices…" she recalled. She scanned the landscape, finding again unmistakeable beauty in all the colours and scents of the large garden. "Why are we even talking about this?" she asked out of the blue, more rhetorically than seriously. She breathed in deeply, feeling invigorated by the smell of the damp earth. "You're loving this, aren't you?" she said to Luc as she rained kisses on his cheeks and forehead, causing him to giggle. Warmth sprung from deep in her bones, feeling her love as true as the colour of the sky or the chill of snow. This, she knew for sure, had to be real.

"I'm just curious, is all," Nick shrugged nonchalantly. Zara noticed how calm he looked. It was an unusual calm, like he'd forgotten all his past burdens. It definitely wasn't a bad thing, but it was just new to see him this way, strolling through the garden with her without a crushing sadness behind his eyes. Soon, they came upon a large tree with dense branches that provided ample shade as they sat at its base. Its bark was so wide that they could both sit side by side. Such were the nourished trees in the orchard that Sophia grew.

As they sat, Luc pointed a finger excitedly at something. "Bubberfly!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, it _is_ a butterfly," Zara beamed, following his gaze to the winged insect. Eagerly, Luc got on his legs and ran with his childish gait towards the wandering butterfly. _He's… walking?_ she wondered briefly, before her doubt, just like the previous one, faded from her mind. Just like his mother could, Luc summoned the creature to his finger with ease, observing its bright orange wings with uninhibited wonder. Soon, more small butterflies followed and took his fingers as a resting place.

"It's amazing how he does that," Nick said, arms folded as he leaned back against the tree.

"Yeah, it comes naturally to him," she replied, though she was still confused about what she was seeing. Luc now appeared to be a toddler, running around freely and using his magic effortlessly. She enjoyed watching him play in the soil, picking up various rocks and insects, though a sneaking suspicion crept up in the back of her mind that something was off. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it…

" _Woof!_ " A large brown retriever appeared from the tall grass.

"Hey, look, it's Dog," Zara recognised. Dog stuck his tongue out as he approached her, awaiting his mandatory pats and rubs. She obliged, chuckling at the way the mutt yielded to her affectionate petting.

"You named your dog, Dog?" Nick laughed softly at the absurdity, rubbing its belly. The dog in turn rolled over onto its back, content as all Heaven.

"Wasn't me. I guess Sophia didn't have time back then to stop and think about a suitable name for this good boy here," Zara said as she scratched under the dog's chin and behind his ears. When her hands grew tired of petting him, the dog got up and whimpered sadly. "Oh you've had enough, you adorable mutt." It circled itself once and then proceeded slowly towards Luc, nudging him on the tummy. The kid stumbled slightly backwards but chuckled and regained his footing with determination. Zara observed as Luc put his free hand – the one without the butterflies – on the ground and sprouted a brightly-coloured flower. Though it was short, the flower that grew was large. Evidently, a technical disproportion that only a child could envision. "What do you have there, Luc?" she asked.

"They're hungry," he answered with his childish simplicity. His butterfly friends all migrated to the flower and began feeding on the nectar, crowding around its petals. "Now all of you can eat," he said to them, growing more flowers just as benevolently as God in the beginning of creation.

"Isn't he the purest thing?" Zara smiled.

She giggled as Luc petted Dog and then tried to mount him like a horse, reaching one tiny leg across the dog's back. While he struggled at first, Dog relented and sat on his four legs, lowering himself so that Luc could get on. Victorious, Luc spurred the dog on. "Go, doggy, go!" he tapped its back, urging it to run like the wind. Gripped by the sight of a fallen apple, Dog lazily sauntered to it and began nibbling on the fruit.

"Isn't it a bit disconcerting, though, that he has so much power?" Nick watched the kid with a suspicious gaze.

"What?" Her smile faded quickly and she turned to him, puzzled, like he questioned something so sacrosanct. "Why would you say that?" she whispered pointedly, wanting to keep this taboo conversation out of earshot.

"I'm just saying…" Nick held his arms up in surrender. "Kid like that… if he throws a tantrum, we could lose a continent."

"What?" Her frown deepened. "You have to be kidding me." Her heart raced, rushing to the defence of her beloved child. "You can't just judge him like that!"

"Woah, calm down, Zara," he reached out to hold her hand but she pulled away, suddenly awakened by a string of thoughts, all arising at the same time. "I didn't mean to offend you."

She nodded slowly, taking deep breaths. _Why am I getting so upset?_ "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out like that," she apologised, pulling a hand down her face. She tried to cast it out of her mind but a strong gut feeling wouldn't let her. "I'm just… confused…"

"It's okay. Focus on the here and now," he advised, running his thumb in circles on the back of her palm as he held her hand.

 _Speaking of here…_ "How did we get here?" she suddenly asked, alarmed that she couldn't remember anything before this.

"You brought us here, Zara. Don't you remember?" he said, his eyes beckoning her to accept the reality of their surroundings. "You said we'd be safe here. How'd you even find this place anyway?"

Her eyes sharpened, uncertain of what to make of his question. "Wouldn't you know? You were here when… when Lucifer gave it to Sophia."

"Oh, right, sorry. I'm a little fuzzy on the details," he nodded, running a hand through his blond hair. "Why did he give it to her again?" Zara pulled her hand away sharply, scrambling away from him. Her eyes widened but her vision blurred in and out. As Nick got up and approached her, she held her hands up to protect herself, trembling. She didn't know why, but she just felt like she was in danger. Something in the deep recesses of her mind was telling her that she was in danger and that she had to get away. "Zara, are you okay?" Nick asked, looking at her with nothing but concern. He looked so real, so genuine, so how could she be unsure of any of this?

"I…" The blurring intensified so much that she had to shut her eyes tightly. Gradually, feeling returned to her limbs. With a gasp, she awoke in a completely different place. She panted heavily and things began to appear in her vision, though she was disoriented and couldn't make sense of her visual input at first. Then she felt someone's arms on her shoulders and upper arms. _Is someone… comforting me?_

"Hey, hey, Zara, you're okay," a man's voice said. A different voice. Now that her vision was returning to normal, she could see that she was cuffed to a chair in a dark room lit only by dim yellow lights.

"Tom?" she identified. He was kneeling in front of her, studying her face for any signs of abnormality. He held her face in his hands and squinted, looking at her pupils. _This is all wrong. Everything's wrong._ Her mind flustered, finding no acceptable explanation as to why she wasn't in her paradise. There was nothing in this dingy, dark room but disappointment that Nick and Luc weren't there with her. _I want you here. I need you here, Luc._

"Breathe easy, Zara," he ordered. She hadn't even realised that she was taking such fast breaths. She could have hyperventilated at that rate. Consciously, she took in one deep breath and held it in for a while before releasing it slowly. She repeated this again a few times until she felt more grounded. "That's right. You're doing good."

"What- What's happening?" she croaked, feeling that her mouth was dry. As she looked on, she saw a camera on a tripod standing a few feet away behind him. A blinking red light on its side indicated that it was recording. Seeing that she was okay, Tom got up and turned off the camera before moving to undo her cuffs. She rubbed her wrists, detesting the feeling of confinement. "What did you do to me?"

"What you experienced was a hallucination created by a potion and powerful spell-work," he explained. Zara was simply taken aback, unable to process what he was saying.

"You went inside my head?" she asked accusatively, beginning to feel annoyed and violated. It seemed to be a running theme in this place.

"Not exactly, but I could see some of it. And I must say, if that is your paradise, we might be alike after all," he gave her a reassuring smile. She simply stared, dumbfounded. She thought she was talking to Nick this whole time. And it felt real and convincing. _Descartes was right all along_ , she thought wryly. "Admit it, it was fun while it lasted."

"You… you tricked me…" she shook her head in disbelief. _That, or there's an evil demon deceiving me that this itself is real._

"You weren't willing to cooperate and we didn't want to resort to _enhanced interrogation_. It's against our code," he said nonchalantly as he stood over her. "Unfortunately, we can't do this again because your brain would liquefy and we don't want _that_."

"That's comforting," she snarked.

"We've learnt a lot nonetheless. See, it won't be so difficult if you just opened up, Zara." He beckoned her to get up and soon they were walking down the blank hallways with the many doors. Her legs felt like jelly and she relied on Tom's grip on her elbow to guide her. They eventually stopped in front of her cell and Tom regarded her for one more time. "There's more to you than other people are willing to see," he said unexpectedly. He had concerned brown eyes and freckles on his nose, she noticed. Immediately, warning bells went off in her head that he could be trying to manipulate her.

"Yeah, well, that's not exactly useful to you, is it?" she spat out bitterly.

"All I'm saying is," he sighed, stroking his chin with his fingers. "I'm willing to convince the others to go easy on you if you give us something to work with. And who knows – with what you bring to the table, you could join us in the fight against evil." He looked her in the eye, gesturing with a head tilt that she should consider. "Working with us has its perks. For one, you wouldn't be a prisoner."

"I see," she gave him a short nod, holding his gaze. "But no thanks."

His eyebrows crinkled slightly and relaxed, moving to hide his emotion as quickly as he felt it. Perhaps he was wondering why she would refuse their offer. But that didn't matter to her. They could think her a fool as much as they wanted. "Sleep on it," he suggested.

With that, he closed the door to her cell, leaving her alone in the darkness with the hypnotising red light. As Zara sat on the bed, she thought back to the hallucination. _It was all… fake…?_ Pain throbbed in her chest as she held the image of Luc in her mind. It wasn't real, no matter how much she wanted it to be, and that hurt a lot. She felt like getting stabbed in the chest would be less painful. But how? It had felt so… so… true when she looked into his eyes. Having a child was like… falling in love. And the absence of him hurt like hell. _I miss you so much, Luc._ Her hands moved to her tummy. Now she had another on the way. A small glimmer of hope lighted within her to think of this new child she would bear. Finally, she saw something in the future to look forward to – falling in love again.


	54. Heaven and Hell, Oh Well

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 54: Heaven and Hell, Oh Well**

Normal people have normal lives. Normal people wake up in the morning, go to college, get a job and work till retirement. Then they kick back with their life's savings until they die. Normal people live in the normal world. The normal world has stock markets, spoon-fed politics and climate change. The average Joe doesn't concern himself with the agenda behind the news he consumes, let alone the one in his food. To him, things are as they are – journalists are honest, politicians have your best interests in mind and corporations don't try to brainwash you and control you. Such a simple world, isn't it?

" _I came in the ring like a dog on a chain and found out that the underbelly is sicker than it seems_ " – Mike Shinoda, When They Come For Me

It's easier not to think of the underbelly. It's easier not to think about the people behind it all. It becomes even easier when you don't realise that the "people" are not really people – they're inexplicable to the rational mind. They're incomprehensible to any sane person – celestial beings and perverted souls. Behind every door-to-door preacher is Naomi's soldier promising pastors a ticket to Paradise for their flock. Behind every illicit drug deal is Crowley's demon selling literal opiate to the masses. And let's not even start on the commercials that families consume with a side of mind-numbing television programming (literal mind-numbing, with subliminal spells woven in here and there). There's a competition for that in the underbelly of the entertainment industry. Angelic or demonic? Which brand of bullshit would you like today?

The angels say they just want to protect the earth, as is their God-given duty. The demons say they want to turn more humans away from Heaven and to their side of the veil. But it doesn't really matter, does it? The humans were slaves in this grand war between the two sides anyway and they don't even know it. Fortunately, there are some who do. There are the hunters, there are the British Men of Letters and there's Raziel and his team. Raziel was disgusted by the mockery of freedom that humans had. He thought that the end of the apocalypse would have brought forth a new Golden Age – one where the angels could truly advance their own kind and the humans. With Hell at its weakest, they could have easily forced the demons to stand down. But no, Raphael was too concerned with getting revenge on Sophia and restarting the apocalypse. Enter civil war. So much time had been wasted; so many lives and resources had been wasted. Hell had become strong again and he held hope for once that Sophia being its Queen meant that she would keep the demons under control. While this was the case for a short period of time, her grip on authority loosened for reasons unknown to him and then she was gone like the wind, inexplicably and irretrievably, with only intel from Bobby Singer to tell him what she'd been up to in her spare time.

Raziel heaved a long, laboured sigh. Progress was slow and difficult. The Leviathan tablet was in Naomi's hands. Zara was missing. The prophet was being held by Naomi in a safe-house somewhere. The Devil was on the loose. The angels were divided. The humans were being controlled by a plethora of supernatural forces around them. So much was happening at once. There had to be a compromise to it all. There had to be a middle-ground. Just one patch of green grass where he could find victory. A triumph for true, moral principles – virtue, wisdom and freedom. This, he believed, was the righteous path set for them by God. There was a time when he believed that the path towards truth was shaped by truth and he still believed it for the most part. Yet, the past few months had shown him something else. The winners always play dirty. The winners always want control first and foremost – screw principles. Whether it was Raphael, Naomi, Crowley or the global elite, they got to where they were by foregoing any reservations about method. It was the goal that mattered. For the first time, Raziel pondered the same thing. _Is this truly the only way?_ There wasn't any choice left. His cause was a losing cause. No matter what, he knew he couldn't let that happen. He still held onto the vision of a universal enlightenment in which angels and humans could become closer to their truer, spiritual selves. Maybe that would bring God back. Or at least, it would restore a sense of harmony that the angels hadn't had in ages.

 _How do you fight someone without inciting a war?_ Raziel wondered, as he took cover behind a building. He peeked around the corner, keeping his eye on his target – a middle-aged man with a significant belly who was handing out pamphlets to a crowd while talking about Jesus. The man had grey hairs peppering his scalp and a loud, bombastic voice. His arms moved about expressively as he reminded everyone of the righteousness of Christ. Raziel wasn't interested in that. Patiently, he watched, invisible to the human eye as he stood among the crowd for hours. This wasn't his preferred method of spending time. He'd much rather be in his office discovering new realms through mathematics or mixing drinks for fun to see how different flavours interacted to produce a new one. But he was trying a new approach. He didn't even tell his loyal friends about what he was up to. He knew they'd protest and question him and as much as he wouldn't have minded that, he really thought of this as a form of experimentation. He was trying something new and seeing what the outcome would be. Based on that, he would refine his method and carry on. It was the only choice he saw to combat Naomi. And with everyone else in the dark about what he was doing, Naomi would have less of a chance of getting ahead of him. After all, wasn't this what Sophia would do? How many times had she kept a secret or two from them for what she thought to be the greater good?

Finally, as the afternoon sun waned, the preacher bought himself a cool bottle of mineral water and retired to the church. Cautiously, Raziel followed the man, keeping his distance in case any of his brothers or sisters spotted him. Surely enough, in a small, unoccupied study room in the church, the preacher met with his Heavenly correspondent, a pastor possessed by an angel. Raziel remained hidden in an adjacent store room, peaking in on their meeting through a grate near the ceiling on the wall connecting the two rooms. As he stood on a chair in the dark room, white bars of light filtered in through the grate from the other room onto his face.

"All went well today, Father," the preacher reported. "I'm sure this Sunday's mass will have a large attendance, God bless."

"That is good to hear, Stan," the angel smiled. Raziel recognised him to be one of Naomi's. And it wasn't any angel either. It was one on her core team – Manakel. "You're doing good work."

The preacher seemed pleased to hear that. "If I may… ask you a question," he put up a finger, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Yes?" The angel raised his eyebrows in askance, resting his palms together over his belly.

"Did you really see one, Father? An angel of the Lord?"

The angel grinned serenely, his eyes hovering to the ground before meeting the man's gaze again. "I did."

Raziel could almost see the questions burning in the man's throat. "How did the angel look like? What did he say? Did he perform a miracle?" The eagerness in his light blue eyes bore into the pastor's, seeking some kind of eternal truth in them. Already Raziel could tell that this preacher must have had a rough past – his liver looked like it had suffered from years of alcoholism. No wonder this man was so eager to serve this angel in the guise of a pastor. The recent years of human development had left little in the way of spiritual fulfilment - a flaw the angel would seek to rectify once this feud with Naomi ended.

"I'm simply here to pass on the words of God, son. I cannot describe my experience with the messengers of God because you would not understand them. But take comfort in the fact that _you_ have been chosen for God's mission," the angel placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder.

Stan exhaled sharply, contemplating with heavy seriousness the pastor's words as though they were of the highest wisdom. "I see," he nodded. "Thank you, Father."

With that, the preacher took his leave. Like a switch, Manakel's expression flipped to one of contempt. Clearly, he hated being the one on the ground talking to the humans. Naomi's ilk usually despised that sort of thing. The air grew tense with silence as Manakel fumbled with his phone and dialled a number. "It's me," he said into the phone. "Did you get the package?" Some indistinct mumbling came from the other end of the line. "Yes, yes, the delivery has been arranged. We trust you'll fulfil your end of the bargain?" More mumbling. "Good, good. Naomi sends her thanks to the King."

Raziel immediately perked up at the last sentence. _The King? The demon king?_ All sorts of possibilities were running through his head. What business did Naomi have with Crowley? Manakel cut the call, sighing as he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes like he was wary from the day's efforts. A fluttering of wings sounded and suddenly, Manakel found himself at knife-point. "Raziel?" the angel exclaimed, rushing to defend himself but ceasing as soon as the tip of Raziel's blade pressed closer to his throat. "You're not supposed to be here," he pointedly spoke, choosing his words carefully so as to not get his throat slit.

"I'm well aware of that," Raziel replied, keeping his hands steady and his gaze resolute. "Who were you talking to?"

Manakel hesitated. He gulped and spoke with a trembling voice. "You're making a big mistake, Raziel."

"Answer the question," Raziel demanded. Again, Manakel hesitated. Impatient, Raziel swung a fist at him. The angel fell ceremoniously to the ground and before he could recover, Raziel dragged him up and pushed him onto a chair. He grabbed a fistful of the angel's hair and pulled his head back, keeping the knife to his throat again. "Answer the question, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Manakel challenged, bleeding lip curling into a dastardly smile. "You'll kill me? We both know your kind are pacifist pansies. That's why you need people like Naomi who aren't afraid to use force."

"Let me tell you something, _pal_ ," Raziel began, his voice becoming forceful. "Not too long ago, Raphael thought the same thing. Then I had an angel of his, just like you, sitting in a chair, just like this one. But you're right – I don't really approve of torture. It was a tough time, you see, with the pure animosity between Raphael and Sophia and the looming threat of war. So I did what I had to do and the angel sang his tune like a canary." He leaned in close to the angel's ear, lowering his voice to but a whisper. "His name was Nathaniel."

Recognition shot through Manakel. Considering that Naomi had worked for Raphael, it was no surprise that those who'd worked under Naomi would also be acquainted with those who'd worked for Raphael.

"I'm willing to do what I have to do," Raziel said. "So answer me: who were you talking to?"

Manakel's sea blue eyes bore into Raziel's brown ones. The angel's jaw tightened as he considered his response. "Carlos," he spat out reluctantly. "A demon."

That confirmed his suspicion. Naomi _was_ working with Crowley. "What business does Naomi have with Crowley?" Raziel probed.

"I don't know," Manakel replied. Raziel's grip on the angel's head tightened and he groaned in pain. "I don't know! I'm just the middle-man!"

"What delivery were you speaking of?" Manakel remained silent, unwilling to divulge more information. A single, firm exhale escaped Raziel's lips. He didn't have all day. He adjusted his grip on the angel blade. In a swift, sharp move, the blade sliced off the angel's ear, leaving a bleeding hole in its place. Manakel yelled out sharply, emanations of his severed grace causing a cup on a nearby table to fling backwards and shatter against a wall. Raziel wasn't proud of what he did but he told himself that there was something bad going on that he had to stop and that this was the only way to do it. He waited a while for Manakel's heavy panting to stop. "Answer me and this will be less painful."

"Quartum!" Manakel yelled in between wheezes. The pain was becoming unbearable. Nothing in his job description prepared him for torture. Even when he'd been the one to deliver subjects for Naomi's 'treatment', he'd never thought that he would be at the receiving end someday. "Quartum…" He shut his eyes tightly, enduring waves of agony from the side of his head that were so bad that he could barely form sentences.

Raziel recognised the name. It was the name of a plant – a variety that could only be found in Heaven. And it wasn't any ordinary plant. It was an opiate. A particularly strong opiate that could affect even angels. Consumption of such substances in Heaven were forbidden and the knowledge of these substances was kept from spreading. Only a select few angels knew about it, Naomi among them. "What does Naomi want with Quartum?" Raziel asked, his hand remaining on the back of the angel's head.

"I… I…" the angel's eyes drifted back, unable to focus. "I don't know…"

This time, Raziel knew the angel was telling the truth. There was no way he was going to endure more pain. Besides, Manakel probably didn't even know what Quartum was. _Need to wrap this up_. "Tell me where I can find the delivery," Raziel spoke with a softer voice this time, almost feeling sorry for Manakel.

"The details… are… in the package…" Manakel's voice was strained. "With Carlos…" Raziel noted down the address, leaving the angel to put a trembling finger against the side of his head. "You'd better watch your back, Raziel," Manakel croaked. "Because now they'll be onto you."

"Are you worrying about me now?" Raziel remarked nonchalantly, still staring at the piece of paper while contemplating his next move.

"I mean it. Naomi will end you once she finds me," the angel blurted out, shooting a glare at him.

"She won't know that I was here." Raziel walked over to him, pointing a blade at his chest.

"You fool," the angel huffed in amusement though his grin was stolen by his continuing pain. "She already knows."

"How?" Raziel demanded to know. Manakel managed a chuckle. " _How?_ " he shouted, getting more worked up.

"I guess I could tell you. You'll be dead soon, anyway," Manakel maintained an iron gaze. "She keeps track of all of us. She gets in our heads. Hey, maybe she'll do it to you too. Then you won't be running around sticking your nose where it don't belong."

Raziel scowled. He wanted to pry more answers from Manakel but he'd already been pushing his luck. Soon, Naomi would be here to investigate. Knowing what was necessary, Raziel swung the blade, driving it into Manakel's chest. With a bright flash of light, the angel died, leaving the distinct outline of burnt wings. Standing over the dead angel, Raziel sighed. He wasn't a big fan of taking lives. But he knew better than anyone that it was a harsh necessity of his job. Collecting himself, he took off to find the demon.

In his absence, wings fluttered upon arrival. Her feet treaded carefully on the carpet as she approached her dead employee. Naomi bent down to the ground, her fingers finding an interesting piece of evidence. A severed ear. She picked it up and examined it. Her light blue eyes studied the smooth cut and she let out a short exhale. "It's time for you to go, Raziel."

* * *

 _ **Strip Club, Los Angeles – 6 November 2011, 8.46pm**_

Business was booming in the strip club when Raziel entered. He moved cautiously, keeping hidden in the crowd of lust-eyed men. He slipped into a seat at the bar, ordering a drink from the bartender as he kept his eyes out for any demons he could interrogate. "You should keep your eyes on the sugar if you wanna be inconspicuous," a voice next to him said. He turned to see a demon, dressed in a shiny black suit, sitting next to him. "Folks will think it's odd that a man in a place like this isn't drooling over tits."

"I'll worry about myself, thank you very much," Raziel snarked, glancing momentarily at the bare-chested females dancing around poles on a stage in front of him. "You Carlos?"

"That's right," the demon drawled, lips widening into a sly smile. "Didn't think I'd see one of your people around here. Your boss really gets paranoid, huh?"

"You know her," Raziel gave the demon a relenting head-tilt. "But can you blame her for not trusting a group of demons?"

"Ah, there's that angelic condescension that we all know and love," Carlos opened up his arms in a sarcastic welcome. The bartender placed a drink in front of the angel and went on to serve other customers.

Raziel's fingers encircled his drink as he carefully considered his words. One wrong sentence and it could blow his cover. "Do you have an update? How are things looking on your end?" he inquired.

"It's alright. Could be better without all those hunters nosing around in our business," Carlos nodded. "Just give us the signal and we'll make sure they won't be a problem."

"No," Raziel shook his head. _At least Naomi had the sense to spare the hunters,_ he thought. "There's a reason you're not allowed to hurt them." Could it be damage control? A last-resort measure in case the business with Crowley went South?

"Typical," the demon huffed. "But whatever. I'm just glad we have a good deal. This whole… war between angels and demons has been getting old. It's time for us to carve out our own territories, am I right?"

Raziel nodded, showing a supportive smile though he didn't agree at all. At least he was getting something out of this demon. "It's a fair deal too, isn't it? You get our Quartum and we get your…"

"Distribution, my friend," Carlos finished his sentence. "Your stuff will be circulated around the world in no time. As soon as we get the delivery from upstairs."

"Right," Raziel sipped his drink, processing this new information. Heaven supplies the drug and Hell spreads it around to intoxicate the humans. With the human race mentally enslaved to external powers, Heaven and Hell could get their own share of worshippers, ensuring a steady supply of souls to both sides. And Naomi was part of it all. "I'd like to check the package. Make sure the details are correct."

"Sure thing. Finish your drink and meet me downstairs," Carlos patted him on the shoulder as he stood up. He buttoned his jacket and sauntered off.

Having paid for his drink, Raziel went in the general direction of the demon, coming upon a door guarded by two bulky demons. With a nod of approval, they stepped aside, letting him through. Down the stairs he went, entering a room with a brightness that contrasted the dim but glowing lighting of the club upstairs. There, the demon puffed on a cigarette as he gestured towards an opened cardboard box on the table. It was a small package, its dimensions only about a foot on each side. Inside was a small glass vial containing a white powdery substance which Raziel held up in the light. It was a sample of the opiate. Probably to prove that Naomi was keeping her deal. There was also a piece of paper with instructions on it.

 _Delivery date and time: 8 November 2011, 0300_

 _Location: Assaria, Kansas_

 _Delivery details: One truck containing 300 lbs of Quartum_

 _Comments: Handle glass boxes with care. Store at temperatures no higher than 300_ _F. More will be supplied as necessary after test run in Kansas._

A series of more detailed descriptions about how to store and utilise the drug were also mentioned. Raziel's eyebrows creased as he studied the whole information sheet. He had two days. Two days to find out how exactly Naomi was getting a hold of Quartum and to stop the delivery. That part was straight-forward. What would be difficult was the aftermath. No doubt this mission would draw a lot of attention to him and his followers. Naomi would want to seek revenge. But she was probably on his tail already. That meant he had to work fast.

"Everything alright, Hoss?" Carlos held his cig between two fingers, eyeing the angel with pensive concern.

"Yeah- yes," Raziel answered, snapping out of his thoughts. He placed the items back into the box as they were.

"So I can show this to the King?" he checked.

"Yes, you may," Raziel confirmed.

"Awesome," Carlos grinned. "Can't wait for this shit to go down!" He enthusiastically raised a hand for a high-five. The angel stared blankly at the demon until he dejectedly put his arm down and cleared his throat.

Raziel merely nodded. "If you would be so kind as to show me the back exit," he requested. Stepping out into the cold night, he stood on the damp gravel under the dark sky. 300 lbs of Quartum was a large amount. Naomi would need a large field to grow the plant and then a processing factory to extract it from the plant. It couldn't be done on Earth because the climates weren't right so that eliminated a potentially arduous target of investigation. It had to be somewhere in Heaven. A lot of manpower – or angelpower – was probably needed too. Did all these angels know what they were doing? How many angels would actually approve of using one of Heaven's resources like this? It was such an intricate puzzle and it overwhelmed the Keeper that he only had two days to figure it all out before something truly awful happened.

Wings fluttered behind him. Raziel spun to see two of his brethren with blades in their hands. "Chava? Adiel?" he recognised them. They weren't Naomi's henchmen, though they served Heaven like any other angel.

"Raziel," Chava sighed. She wore a solemn look, like it pained her to be there. "Tell us it isn't true."

"Tell you what isn't true?" Raziel frowned. These were good angels. Why were they here?

"Tell us you didn't slaughter our brother in cold blood," her voice begged him to deny their suspicions.

"Chava, I…" He half-shook his head, unsure of what to tell them. What could he possibly say in that moment to console them? That he was investigating Naomi's shady business? It would be difficult to explain. "Did Naomi send you?"

"Does it matter?" Adiel spoke up. A hint of disbelief and maybe a little disgust was present in his tone. He too appeared worried. "We come asking whether you _murdered_ a fellow angel and you ask if your political rival sent us? You think she would lie for politics, brother?"

 _Oh, I know it._ "No, no, absolutely not," Raziel gulped. The situation was getting tense. He had to keep it from escalating. "Just curious, that's all."

"Naomi told us that you had to be brought in for questioning," Chava informed him. "She didn't say that you did it… but what are we to think, Raziel? Please tell us our suspicions are wrong."

Raziel nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender. "Who else knows?" he asked as the angels stepped closer.

"I don't think anyone else knows. It would be wrong to accuse someone publicly of such a crime without prior investigation," Adiel stated firmly.

Raziel stepped back and the two angels stopped, surprised by his resistance. He couldn't afford to waste time on this. If he missed the delivery, there would be no telling how far Naomi's plans would reach before he knew exactly what she was planning. "I'm sorry. Chava, Adiel, I'm so sorry. I can't go with you," Raziel pleaded, his eyes begging them to understand.

"What is the meaning of this, Raziel?" Chava grew furious. "If you resist, we will have to use force."

"You are a respected angel," Adiel said, frowning. "Come home and prove your innocence, Keeper," he insisted. The angels approached him again and Raziel took another reluctant step back. Left with no choice, Chava and Adiel drew their swords. Raziel reacted quickly, escaping knife-point with a jab to Adiel's face and a punch to Chava's abdomen. Caught in the spur of the moment, the angels swung their blades. Raziel's blade cut Chava across the cheek while he aimed another punch at her, knocking her away. The clash of metal sounded as his blade met Adiel's and they parried for a short moment. Cuts appeared all over both of them and out of the corner of his eye, Raziel saw Chava charging him with a knife. He quickly dodged out of the way and her blade pierced Adiel, evoking a bright white light as he died.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed, terrified by what she'd done. She watched in horror as Adiel fell to the ground, her blade sticking out of his abdomen. Taking her momentary hesitation as cue, Raziel stabbed her through the chest, leaving her to the same fate.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he lay her down gently. He wore a pained expression as he stood over the bodies of his dead siblings. They were just doing their job. Pangs of guilt washed over him like a wave. "I wish it didn't have to be this way…"

* * *

 _ **Back in Heaven…**_

Raziel snuck through the maze of buildings, most of which were empty because of the large number of angels who had died in the war. It used to be that there was a place for every angel in Heaven. Slowly, over time, more and more offices and desks grew empty. It started with the angelic rebellion, with the archangels and their misguided followers. Everyone grieved the loss of two of the most important angels in Heaven. Just knowing that their offices, which were situated on the highest floor of the highest building, would be empty forever since had evoked feelings of loss and anguish. If it had affected the common angel that much, Raziel rued to think of what Michael, Raphael and Gabriel must have been through. The Keeper kept out of sight as much as he could, weaving through empty alleys and narrow corridors until he reached the back of the Intelligence department. He needed access to Naomi's office. That's where all the answers were.

Some voices drew closer. Raziel immediately took cover behind the marble edifice. He dared to steal a glance around the corner, retreating back to cover immediately upon recognition of two angels who worked for the very department he wanted to break into. Keeping very still and silent, he listened in on their conversation.

"That's the third angel this _year_ , Heron," one angel whispered pointedly. " _That's_ a pattern."

"Calm down, Jeremiah," Heron urged. "I'm sure it's nothing. Surely, you're being paranoid?"

"I'm not," Jeremiah insisted. "Samandriel isn't the kind of angel who just forgets to check in. Something's wrong."

"Then why haven't you reported it to Naomi?" Heron suggested.

"I… I did," Jeremiah sighed. A short pause punctuated their conversation.

"Then what's the matter? Why do you seem troubled?" Heron probed.

"Because I reported the last two missing angels too. And neither of them have returned," the angel worried. "I know it sounds crazy but… I think something's going on." Heron shook his head dejectedly, unconvinced. "No, listen," Jeremiah placed a hand on his friend's shoulder before he could turn to leave. "Samandriel's our friend. Don't you care about getting him back?"

"Of course I do," Heron frowned. "But what you are suggesting is… is absurd. I'm afraid you've been listening to too many of Marion's stories."

Jeremiah pleaded with his gaze for Heron to give him the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, the latter angel couldn't accept the possibility of something suspicious going on in his department. "No, wait, come on," Jeremiah implored but his friend left to get back to his post, leaving him alone to reflect on the problem that no one around him believed was a problem. Having watched this encounter, Raziel saw an opportunity pop up. But really, it could go sideways pretty quickly if Jeremiah was unwilling to cooperate. What would Sophia do? She normally took plenty of risks, didn't she?

Uncertain of the odds, Raziel took a hesitant step into the open, meeting the pensive angel. The angel's head immediately shot up to face this intruder and his eyes widened in shock. "Don't worry," Raziel held his hands up, showing that he was no threat. "I don't mean to harm you."

"You… you heard all that?" Jeremiah stuttered. His gaze darted around, alarmed. "You're not supposed to know about that."

"As the Keeper of Knowledge, is there really anything I'm _not_ supposed to know about?" Raziel calmly stated.

"No… sir," Jeremiah exhaled and his shoulders dropped in relief that he was not transgressing any rule by having this conversation.

"That being said, I'd like to hear more about this… missing angel situation," Raziel too relaxed his posture, taking a cautious step forward.

"R-really?" The angel almost couldn't believe it. But just as soon as he grew hopeful, his eagerness faded. "It-It's probably nothing," Jeremiah shrugged and shook his head despondently. "I'm probably just imagining things."

"Jeremiah, was it?" Raziel extended a comforting hand. "It's alright. You can tell me. I'll believe you."

"It could be nothing, like Heron said," he asserted. "I don't want this to become something big. Naomi's my boss. If she finds out, I could be in trouble."

"If this is like what you say it is, this is a serious matter to be investigated," Raziel tried to convince him. "Whatever the case, the truth must come to light. I'll make sure your name stays in the clear."

Jeremiah had a grave look on his face, like it disturbed him to remember the details. After a brief moment of consideration, he relented. Raziel's reputation and authority in Heaven made him feel like someone trustworthy. "Well, it started after the war ended. We were assigned to Naomi's department – a whole group of us. We were all assigned to different stations on earth and we were to periodically come back to home office for meetings. That's when I noticed that one of us stopped coming for sessions. In her place was another angel who I'd never seen before. Said he was taking Sarah's place. No one questioned it. They just thought it was an executive decision made by Naomi."

"But you didn't think so," Raziel inferred.

"I didn't know what to think. We're soldiers – we're not supposed to think." Raziel suppressed an eye-roll at that one. "But yes, I did suspect that something was off. I tried asking around, see if anyone heard anything. But it was like Sarah just… disappeared. Soon, everyone forgot about it and it was like she never even existed. That's weird, right? We're angels. We don't forget." Raziel noticed how Jeremiah's lower lip quivered. Was this the 'treatment' that Manakel was talking about? The one that allowed Naomi to get in their heads?

"If you don't mind me asking," Raziel interjected politely. "If everyone else forgot, how was it that _you_ remembered?"

"I…" he narrowed his eyes, looking away to recall what happened. Whatever he was seeing, it seemed to puzzle him too. "I don't know. It felt like a weird… uh…" he did a half-scratching motion near his head. "Like an itch. And when I kept thinking about it, it became really clear that something was off."

Raziel nodded intently, listening with utmost curiosity. It seemed so clear now that Naomi was doing a number of sketchy things and he had to do something about it. "So you told Naomi?" The angel nodded. "What did she say?"

"She told me it was good that I cared so much about a team member and that Sarah was in good hands. So I said, 'okay' and moved on. And then it was Marcus' turn." He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts and explain what was so weird about this one. "Thing is… Marcus _told_ me that he had something to report. That he had… something to follow up on back home. So I expected he would show up to the meeting. But he didn't. Again, someone else took his place and we all forgot. They did, I mean. I didn't."

"Hm."

"I told Naomi again. And then…" His eyes widened in anguish. The memory worried him.

"Then what?" Raziel asked firmly.

"It was all a blur. I don't even remember! How can I not remember?" Jeremiah let out shallow breaths and he put a hand to his temple. "After trying so hard to remember what I was not supposed to, that was the one part I really could not retrieve, try as I might. And now Samandriel's gone and it was the same." He let out a long, laboured breath. "God, I'm so relieved to get that off my chest."

"You did right in telling me," Raziel reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I will investigate this matter personally, but you can't tell anyone." The angel nodded in acceptance, hope finally filling his irises. "But in return, I do need a favour." Jeremiah perked up, locking eyes with the Keeper in curiosity. "Can you get me into Naomi's office without anyone knowing?"

"Raziel… what you ask of me…"

"Is a bit much, I know. But this is urgent. No one, better than you, understands that something is not right in your department. I need your help to find out what and put an end to it," Raziel pleaded, begging with his eyes for the angel to make the right choice.

They shared a concerned gaze. Though Jeremiah knew the risks of what he had to do, it was Raziel's compassion and willingness to listen that swayed his opinion. He also remembered Castiel's fearlessness in doing what he thought was right in fighting Raphael and realised that it was time he too took a stand to do the right thing.

* * *

With Jeremiah's knowledge of everyone's shifts, their path to Naomi's office was unobstructed. Having seen how easy it was to just waltz in without anyone knowing, Raziel was glad that his team had moved their offices from Heaven to earth, where no one knew how to find them. "This is where we must part, sir," Jeremiah said, as they stood outside her door. "I'm afraid I can't go any further."

"I understand. Thank you for your help. When I find out what happened to your friends, I'll let you know," Raziel promised. They shook hands as a sign of good faith and Raziel placed his other hand on the back of Jeremiah's palm.

"Naomi is due to come back from making her rounds in about an hour. Be gone by then," Jeremiah advised, maintaining a troubled gaze with Raziel.

"I will." With that, they parted and Raziel entered the office. His eyes sharpened as they scanned the room for a clue of where to start. He eventually chose the drawers. Rummaging through files upon files, neatly stacked against each other with paper dividers, he found a noteworthy document. A record of angels who worked for her. It had been updated with the changes after the war. "What's this?" Raziel's finger traced a figure that detailed manpower distribution. There was an asterisk that referred to another document which Raziel could not find in the drawers. He inferred that it could be under lock-and-key. But there weren't any locked drawers in the office. He gave the whole place a quick once-over, finding nothing else of immediate importance. Growing impatient with the sense of losing time, he took a step back, staring at the whole office. "I'm missing something…"

His eyes roved over the desk and the shelves and rested on a painting on the wall behind the desk. It seemed so odd to him that there was something of colour in an office with such a bland aesthetic. Naomi didn't seem like the kind of person who had an appreciation of the finer arts. Not many did after a long, slow decline in the angels' spirit when it came to craftsmanship. After the fall, everything was just business, business and more business. Everyone's hands had become so full with guarding the earth. Raziel approached the painting, studying its form more closely. It depicted a river. Then it clicked for him. He recognised the river – it was the one close to Sophia's private office in Heaven, the one God gave her as a present. The one that was burnt down during the rebellion. Nostalgia stung in his chest to think about it. That was where Sophia had trained him and the others to be her apprentices. It was one of the fondest memories he had. To see a house full of such bright memories burnt down and left as nothing more than rubble and debris had hurt him. He had no choice but to bury those feelings when the loyalty of the apprentices came into question. He assumed leadership, swearing to prove to the angels that they would not transgress like their mentor had. That's when Raphael became their supervisor.

But what was the significance of the river? Why did Naomi care? That was when something caught his eye. A faint outline of what appeared to be a door. He wouldn't even have noticed it if he wasn't staring at the wall blankly for a significant amount of time. "A secret door. Of course." His fingers quickly rushed to trace the wall, looking for a switch of some kind. His heart almost did a little jump when his fingers gave way and a 'click' sound was heard. The door now appeared more clearly, shifting open. He took a peek, finding his curiosity getting increasingly piqued. The room had a single chair at the centre but it was no ordinary chair. The first word that came to mind when he saw it was 'torture'. It had straps and a lever to adjust its incline, not to mention the table next to it with all kinds of weird instruments that he was unfamiliar with. On the sides of the room were more shelves and drawers. _Ah, that's where the important things must be._

The sound of heels clanking came from outside the door. The door knob turned. In a firm, swift motion, the door swung open and Naomi entered, her sharp gaze glimpsing the office as she sat in the familiar position behind the desk, none the wiser about Raziel's intrusion. She let out a sigh, betraying a mind full of the burdens of being a high-ranking angel. She pulled up a pen and paper, beginning on the day's report. Things went smoothly that day so she could return to the comfort of her office earlier than usual. Well, except for one thing – the missing angel. Remaining deadly silent behind the closed door of the secret room, Raziel listened intently for an opportunity to escape. He didn't want to rummage through the files in the room because he feared that it would make too much noise. A lost opportunity. But as he waited, something far more peculiar happened.

Wings fluttered on the other side of the door. Raziel's forehead creased in anticipation. _A visitor?_

"Castiel, we have a situation," Naomi's voice sounded clearly through the door. Raziel suppressed a gasp. _Castiel's alive?_ "Samandriel has been captured."

"I thought Samandriel was dead," the strikingly familiar voice of the resurrected angel sounded almost too good to be true. It felt unreal, hearing someone who was supposed to be dead.

"He's been missing, and now we know – Crowley has him," Naomi explained. _Crowley?_ That raised the question of whether Naomi had orchestrated this.

"Where?"

"His distress call cut out before I could pinpoint his exact location, but you will find him and you will bring him home," Naomi ordered. Distress signal… so Naomi _didn't_ have something to do with it? Before Raziel could properly analyse what was going on, the conversation continued.

"Crowley will have warded against angels this time. I'll need help getting in." Again, Castiel's gruff, monotonous voice sounded so unbelievable that it evoked a lot of memories. The Keeper still didn't know how he felt about that. It would require some serious contemplation.

"Take whatever you need. But you will be certain, Castiel, it was _your_ idea to rescue Samandriel, not mine, not Heaven's. Do you understand?" Naomi stated. Though this conversation was inherently revelatory, it raised more questions than it answered. If Naomi suspected Crowley of abducting angels, why would she continue to work with him? Unless… he had leverage. If that was true, it would be truly infuriating that Naomi would keep this all a carefully-guarded secret from those who could help. But to truly understand what was going on, he needed to know what Naomi's relationship with Castiel was. Perhaps he was the one doing her dirty work for her. With everyone thinking him dead, he would be able to do things under the radar for her. Raziel knew what he needed to do next. All he needed was to get out of this room.

* * *

 _ **Some motel, Geneva, Nebraska – 7 November 2011, 12.34pm**_

It was early afternoon when Raziel caught Castiel's trail. Couldn't miss that trademark brown trench coat anywhere. He should have known that Castiel would have been so predictable – going straight to the Winchesters for help. At least it saved him time. Precious time – now that Raziel had killed three of his own brothers and sisters as part of this risky mission, no doubt Naomi could use this as fuel for rallying supporters against him. Not to mention the fact that he was likely to face a sentence if anyone found him out. Now that few angels were left, the angels agreed that they should safeguard each other's lives. There was even talk about reopening the nursery and procreation, though that was something that would require more time for the angels to consider. Regardless, the angels were far more protective over their own kind now than ever before. His chest tightened thinking about it. For the shortest moment, Raziel felt guilty. _What have I done? They'll hate me for this._ Yet, he could not help but think of the amount of information he'd discovered all on his own by bypassing traditional rules of what he should have done. And that was what mattered. _They'll hate Naomi more once they find out what she's been up to._

When Raziel found the motel room the boys were staying in, they'd gone off, leaving their notes and materials in the room for him to stumble upon. A single printed article caught the angel's attention. A man's face suffered a severe burn after a bush supposedly exploded. _Huh._ Raziel frowned in concentration as he picked up the article and read it. _Castiel must have thought Samandriel was being tortured. What else would the demon king do to a servant of the Lord?_ He guessed that Castiel and the Winchesters must be investigating the lead, which meant they would be at the hospital.

With a flap of the wings, Raziel found himself standing in the car park of the hospital. When the brown trench coat came into view, he scrambled to take cover behind a nearby tree. There he was – the resurrected angel. Raziel had so many questions. How long had it been? Why hadn't he returned to Heaven? Why was he working for Naomi? But the mission had to take precedence. If he wanted to find out anything about the Quartum delivery and Naomi's arrangement with Crowley, he needed to lay low. Though he stood far from the Impala, Raziel's fine-tuned ears caught wind of their conversation.

"What was it he said?" Sam began as they walked towards the Impala. " _Sol-voch-tay?_ That mean anything to you, Cas?"

"Yes, it's Enochian," the stoic angel replied in his typical monotonous voice. "It means 'obey'."

"Obey?" Dean gave him a puzzled glare. "Obey what?"

"I don't know. But the amount of pain an angel must be in not just to manifest through shrubbery but to burn – Dean... we have to find him before it's too late," Castiel sounded worried, which only increased Raziel's cynicism. _You sound like you care,_ he thought bitterly. How much did other angels' lives matter to him when he blasted them to death with all those souls? Or when he held Raziel's friends captive to pressure Sophia into standing down? It didn't dawn on him how good of an actor Castiel was until that moment. It was probably how he got the Winchesters to do his dirty work for him all this while. One solemn look on that angel's face and Dean Winchester was ready to roll over and wag his tail.

"Okay. Okay, well, look, a sign like that – Samandriel can't be too far, right? So we'll just start at the bush and work our way out," Dean suggested as he pulled open the door to the driver's seat.

Sam paused, holding the door open as he pondered something. "And look for what? Crowley could have him anywhere."

"Well, if I know Crowley, the place will be swarming with demons, so we'll just drive till we see ugly," Dean stated resolutely. As the boys entered the car, leg-first, Castiel simply stood, like he'd caught a whiff of something that wasn't supposed to be there. The angel perked up, looking around himself. Raziel's heart raced, worrying if the angel had spotted him. But when Castiel turned back to the boys and entered the backseat of the car, Raziel heaved a sigh of relief.

He kept his sights on the shiny black Chevy as he flew, maintaining a safe distance so as to keep from being detected by Cas. One by one, they stopped near various spots around town that looked deserted enough to hide something as sketchy as angel torture. As the afternoon sun bore its heavy rays on the earth, the Impala came to a stop before an abandoned saw mill but this time, something different happened. Castiel was the first to get out, storming off into the overbearing, dilapidated building.

"Wait, Cas," Dean called out, exchanging puzzled looks with Sam as they got out of the car. "Cas!"

The two brothers hurried after their friend, briskly walking into the building. "What's gotten into him?" Sam whispered to his brother. Dean simply shrugged as they followed Castiel. Curious, Raziel set foot on the ground and wandered into the building, sneaking in the cover of towering equipment that had been abandoned to the place.

"Cas! There's no one here," Sam yelled after him. Abruptly, Castiel stopped in a wide opening and turned to face them, eliciting confused expressions.

"Do you- do you see something?" Dean asked, uncertain.

The muscles on Castiel's face tightened as his eyes scanned the area. "Yes," his blue irises came to rest in Raziel's general direction. "We're being followed." Raziel's breath got caught in his throat. He knew that the angel who led a whole army in Heaven must have some intelligence about strategy and reconnaissance, but he didn't expect him to be _this_ good. "You can show yourself now," Castiel ordered. Alarmed, the Winchesters glanced around themselves, seeking out this mysterious stalker.

Seeing as there was no point in hiding, Raziel stepped out into the open. He kept his arms up to gesture that he was no threat but the Winchesters being… well… the Winchesters, they pointed their angel blades at him. "Relax, I have no intention of hurting you," Raziel greeted them.

"You?" Sam frowned. "I recognise you. You helped us fight off those demons in Duluth." Dean seemed to recall this as well so both of them lowered their blades, though they still held them in a cautionary position. Castiel's gaze flickered to Sam in surprise. Then, like a switch flipped on in his head, he brandished his angel blade and stepped forward, putting himself between the Winchesters and Raziel.

"He still serves Sophia," Castiel snarled, resting a flaming gaze on the angel before him.

"I serve Heaven," Raziel stated, returning the intensity of the glare. "Who do you serve, Castiel?"

"I am not answerable to you, Raziel," Castiel replied. "What are you doing here?"

Castiel maintained his threatening vibe, while Raziel simply remained calm, confident in his ability to take on the angel should anything go South. But his priority was getting information, not fighting. He would have to be diplomatic about this. "Same as you. I want to find Samandriel. He is a good angel and must be returned home immediately," Raziel said truthfully. He raised his arms a little more. "I don't want to fight you, brother."

"Then why follow us?" Dean spoke up, now fired up by Castiel's scepticism. Admittedly, he felt a little conflicted about this situation. The unfamiliar angel before him _did_ save their bacon in time, but if their trusted friend was to doubt this angel, then he would be suspicious too. "If you're telling the truth, why hide?"

Raziel exhaled, looking between the three of them as he thought through an answer. He couldn't just spill his suspicions about Castiel. Not after Naomi ordered Castiel to keep it a secret that it was on her order he was here. "Because of this," he finally said. "Your buddy Castiel here wouldn't trust me after what my former mentor did to him. And I don't blame him. I just wanted to save us all the trouble of putting a knife to each other's throats because, if you haven't noticed, Crowley is torturing one of our own and time is of the essence."

"If you care so much, maybe you should just leave it to us," Castiel narrowed his eyes, his voice growing more cynical by the moment.

"Cas," Sam interjected, sensing the rising tensions. "We could have died in Duluth. He saved our lives that day. He deserves the benefit of the doubt."

Dean adjusted his grip on the blade, uncomfortably relenting to Sam's rationale though conflicted by the faith he wanted to have in Castiel. "How about a _quid pro quo_?" Raziel suggested, locking eyes with Dean. He realised, that if he wanted to make any progress, he would have to convince the older Winchester. After all, it was Dean that Sam looked up to and so it was Dean who made the decisions that Castiel would have to follow if he wanted to remain out of suspicion. "I am aware that Bobby Singer was after some… information… from my team shortly before he passed. I'm willing to give you an hour of my time once we've freed Samandriel from Crowley's clutches."

"You are the Keeper of Knowledge. Why would _you_ be so willing to sell information for the sake of one angel?" Castiel probed. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"I can't guarantee that I will spill Heaven's most guarded secrets," Raziel answered confidently. "But I will tell the humans who saved the world from the apocalypse what they wish to know, because I trust their intentions. Especially if it means stopping Crowley." Again, he eyed Dean, conveying as much sincerity as he could. "You have my word."

"Fine," Dean nodded, sheathing his blade.

"Dean!" Castiel exclaimed.

"You wanna keep standing 'round here?" Dean challenged. "While Crowley picks your friend apart? We can settle this later." Much to Castiel's dismay, Sam relented too, meeting Raziel's gaze with concern. "Raz – I'm gonna call you Raz – can tag along. We could use the back-up. Cas, keep an eye on him."

Reluctantly, Castiel obeyed and the four of them piled into the Impala, with the angels taking the backseat and the Winchesters the front. The drive was uncomfortably quiet, with Castiel stealing glances at Raziel when he wasn't disappointedly staring out the window. The ire emanating from Castiel wasn't lost on Dean, who chose to ignore it for the time-being. Call it instinct, but Dean really didn't get a threatening vibe from Raziel. And his instincts were clear when it came to angels.

"Wow, will you look at that?" Dean pulled up near a derelict building. "Our ninth abandoned factory. Ain't that America? Hey, what do you say, this doesn't pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?"

"Wait a minute, Dean," Cas urged, peering through the gap between the front seats of the car. "Those derelicts, they're demons. I can see their true faces."

"He's right," Raziel agreed. "Not to mention the building appears to be covered in warding."

Sam brandished a pair of binoculars and surveyed the scene before them, noticing the patrolling demons on the balconies, near the windows and around the perimeter. "Crowley's got that many hell monkeys outside, he's got to have at least double inside," Sam remarked.

"Castiel and I can take the demons outside," Raziel offered. Castiel met his gaze and nodded in agreement. "You boys can sneak inside and undo the angelproofing. We'll do the rest."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam announced, and the four exited the vehicle.

Three demons stood around a burn barrel, pretending to be homeless people keeping themselves warm. As a demon departed from the fire to do his rounds, a soft whistle caught his attention. _What was that?_ Intrigued, he walked along the side of the building to investigate. Behind him, the angels snuck behind the other two demons and slit their throats, dropping their bodies with as little noise as possible. _Came from around this corner._ He turned and froze in his step. _Dean Winchester._ "Hiya," Dean simply waved. The demon snarled, displaying his obsidian eyes before storming towards the Winchester. Before he knew it, he felt something sharp pierce his back. The heat of death spread throughout him in a painful wave and with a defeated groan and bright flash of light, he died. The demon dropped dead, revealing Sam with a bloody knife. "Well, not my most original work, but..." Dean shrugged.

Sam rummaged the demon's pockets and found the keys, which he tossed over to his brother. While Dean figured out which key opened the door, Castiel instructed Sam on which sigils to disrupt. "So, there are four main points of warding – north, south, east, and west – and four Enochian symbols, like this..." He took out a marker and drew the sigil on Sam's palm. "...that you need to destroy before we can enter."

With that, the boys disappeared into the building, leaving the two angels out in the cold of the darkening evening. "So," Raziel began. "What have you been up to these days?"

Both of their gazes were fixed on the door, awaiting the wave of release signalling that the angel warding was destroyed. "I've been watching over humanity," Castiel responded. "I've been helping out wherever I can."

"Is that all?" Raziel probed, remaining calm as ever. He stood with a palm crossed over the back of his other hand.

Castiel stole a glance at the angel next to him, studying his expression. Raziel didn't appear to be making any jibes, though if he was, Castiel wasn't sure he could tell. "What else could I be doing?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Raziel shrugged. "Returned to Heaven lately?"

"That I have not, brother," Castiel responded solemnly. Raziel noted this – it was an obvious lie, but why did he sound so… sincere? "It wouldn't feel right. Not after what I did."

The guilt sounded so strong in his voice. Raziel returned the despondent expression. There wasn't a muscle on the angel's face that betrayed a lie. That, or Castiel was a much better liar than Raziel thought before. "So this…" he gestured at the building. "This is… redemption?"

"I suppose it is," Castiel nodded, lowering his head as he thought of the amount of work it would take to wash away his sins. In his mind, he had no recollection of ever meeting with Naomi. He thought he was doing everything of his own accord and so his emotions were genuine. This, of course, wasn't obvious to Raziel. Not yet, anyway. "And you? What have you been doing?"

"Heaven hasn't been the same since you left," he explained. "Everyone mourned you. They hoped you would lead them towards a better vision of the future." He turned to Castiel and saw his deepening eyes, which held an untold sorrow. Hell, Raziel was beginning to feel sorry for the guy. He wasn't like Naomi's goons – like Manakel. He looked like he wanted to genuinely do something good. That was always Castiel's problem. Too much heart and trusting the wrong people and using the wrong methods. In another reality, they could have worked well together, Raziel thought. "I'm trying to help our brothers and sisters," he finally said. "I want to shape Heaven's future just like you wanted it. We should serve based on liberty and justice above all."

"That is… reassuring," Castiel's eyes softened, staring back at the high windows of the building. He took a sudden inhale, like he'd snapped out of some daze. A new sense of clarity washed over him and he felt like his old self again for a moment. His eyebrows creased in confusion as he wondered why he had been so hostile to Raziel earlier. He knew that Raziel was one of the good ones, yet he hadn't hesitated to condemn him in front of the Winchesters. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he almost felt… possessed. "You and your team have always championed such values and I think Heaven would do well with you at the helm."

"That's very nice of you to say, but…" Raziel wondered if he should say anything at all. Would it give away his suspicions? He knew he had to tread lightly but he really thought he was onto something here. "But how much good will your absence in Heaven do? There are forces beyond our control and… and I think you could do a lot to help, brother. You just have to decide that you want to."

This time their eyes met. Castiel had questions. Raziel saw it in his eyes. Something had changed. _Something I said must have triggered something in him._ He wanted to press further. Maybe ease in talk about Naomi. If Castiel was getting a grip over himself despite whatever Naomi must have done to get in his head, he could get something out of the trench-coated angel without resorting to torture. Then they felt it – the release. The warding was undone. Within seconds, they both rushed in, wings flapping at the speed of light.

Heavy breathing sounded to Raziel's right. Castiel heaved as he doubled over in pain. "Cas! Hey, you okay?" Sam rushed over to help the angel.

"It must be the sigils. I'm not at full power," Cas conjectured.

"Highly unlikely," Raziel groaned as he put Castiel's arm around his shoulders to support him, relieving Sam of the effort. He himself felt no change. A deafening, raw scream pierced through the air. _Samandriel_. _What are they doing to you, brother?_ Another scream. This time, Raziel felt it reverberating in his chest. Time was running short. And something inexplicable was weakening Castiel. Too many mysteries and no time to solve them all.

"Sam, help me muss this crud," Dean ordered, looking up at all the other sigils.

"There's no time," Raziel alerted them. "Samandriel won't last much longer. I'll keep an eye on him." He nodded at Dean, who then proceeded to try the lock on the door. As another one of Samandriel's pained screams reached them, Castiel pushed away from Raziel, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. "Hey, hey," Raziel extended an arm towards him but Castiel seemed unresponsive. The angel groaned under his breath like a whimpering puppy and folded into himself. Raziel exchanged a shocked look with Sam and turned back to Cas, trying to figure out the best way to reach out to him.

"Dean, hurry up, come on!" Sam urged. As Dean struggled with the stubborn lock, Sam and Raziel merely watched in horror as Castiel slowly backed away, cowering with his back to the wall. _What's gotten into him?_ Raziel wondered.

"Alright, Plan B," Dean announced as he took a few steps back.

"We have a Plan B?" Sam watched his brother charge and fling himself against the door. The loud 'thud' caused him to flinch but seeing as they were in a hurry, Sam recovered quickly and began doing the same. Thud after thud, the door seemed to hold its ground, undeterred.

In the mean time, Raziel crouched next to Castiel, attempting to bring him back to reality. "Castiel, what's happening? Are you hurt?" he asked. Castiel's lower lip quivered and his eyes remained permanently widened, fixated on the unmoving door. Was it the torture? Was it the outburst of celestial energy? What could have made him so sensitive to it? Only one possibility remained – the treatment. Whatever Naomi did to him, it was really messing with his mind. "Look at me. I order you to look at me!" Raziel spoke firmly. Little by little, those blue irises shifted and met his brown eyes. "What is your name?"

"C-Castiel," even his voice trembled. At least he remembered his name. This was a start.

"Where are we?" The blue eyes threatened to shift back towards the door but Raziel put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, capturing his attention even if for a short while. " _Where are we, Castiel?"_

"G-Geneva… Nebraska," he answered.

"Good, good," Raziel nodded. "Who am I?"

Cas was shivering like a wet kitten by this point. Yet he held onto reality as strongly as he could. "R-Raziel," he stuttered.

Raziel nodded, rubbing his shoulder. "Take deep breaths," he suggested. Castiel nodded, feeling control return to his limbs.

"Cas, anytime now," Dean pleaded.

"She really did a number on you, didn't she?" Raziel muttered under his breath, not intending to be heard.

"Who?" Castiel's weary voice drained away into the loud 'crash' of the door finally giving way. A pang of sympathy tugged at Raziel's heart. _You're a slave and you don't even know it._ Raziel stood, extending a hand towards the fallen angel. Castiel clasped Raziel's hand and pulled himself up. Onward, they marched into the room and the sight before them could shake any angel to the core. There, on a metal chair sat Samandriel. He had an ominous contraption strapped to his head, with clamps sticking out here and there. The poor angel looked absolutely bent, blood pouring out of every facial orifice. _What kind of torture is this?_ While Sam and Dean scuffled with the demon, Raziel and Castiel scrambled to undo the contraption. Just then, another door busted open and more demons entered. _That's too many for two humans._

"You take care of this. I'll handle the demons," Raziel offered, as he parted from the torture scene. Within seconds, he engaged the demons, expertly fighting off three at once. Just as another wave of demons threatened to attack them, Raziel quickly glanced at Castiel and observed him removing the brace from Samandriel's head. "Castiel, get him out of here," he ordered and in an instant, the two angels were gone.

A demon punched Sam in the gut, knocking him back against a pillar. Raziel rushed forward, pulling the demon's head back and plunging his angel blade into the demon's back. Together, they fought off the demons, with Sam punching them and knocking them off balance and Raziel blasting them with his grace and stabbing them. Dean was a force to reckon with himself, fending off the demons with the angel blade. Finally, he tackled the demon in a lab coat onto the ground, getting on top of him and holding the demon knife to his throat.

"Wait! I know- I know things!" the demon begged. Dean paused, taking a second to catch his breath. "Good, good. There's so much you don't know. You _need_ me."

Dean nodded, facial muscles tense like he was buying it. "Yeah," he said, and the demon too nodded, hope filling his eyes. "I don't think so," Dean brought down the knife. With a loud groan, the fire of death burnt bright under the demon's skin and he died. Sam and Dean stood in a room full of dead demons, panting. They looked around themselves but they found themselves standing alone, no angel to be seen. "Where'd he go?"

Raziel took cover in the shadows, watching as Castiel stood over a broken and battered Samandriel next to the Impala. He had wanted to ask Samandriel some questions but he thought he'd glean more by simply watching Castiel. His acute ears tuned into the conversation from a distance. "…you- you don't understand. I told Crowley things. Things he shouldn't have known," Samandriel's voice was almost like a cry. He was clearly traumatised and in need of help and rest. Raziel vowed that he would bring Samandriel to Shemsiel, who could help him with his injuries. "He got to our coding, our secrets. Secrets I didn't even know we had!"

"What secrets?" Castiel probed. He frowned as he listened intently, sensing that there was something more important at play here.

"The tablets. Leviathan, Demon and Angel. He knows about them…" The angel's eyes seemed almost watery, even from where Raziel was standing. Raziel sighed, feeling his chest ache for the tortured angel. So that was how Crowley knew. This was a horrible revelation – finding out that one of your own had been the source of a highly-guarded secret being leaked. Yet Raziel couldn't find it in himself to hate Samandriel. How could he? He was being tortured. But the real question was, how did Crowley get his hands on Samandriel in the first place? And was this what happened to the other two missing angels? "And Heaven… Naomi…"

"W-who's Naomi?" Castiel asked. He felt himself getting light-headed – dizzy, even – as his mind circled around the same question. _Who's Naomi?_ Was he supposed to know?

"Who is-" Samandriel exhaled sharply, unable to believe his ears. How could he not know? Every angel in Heaven knew by this point. "Listen to me closely," his voice grew serious. "I found out about them. Naomi – she's controlling us. She and Crowley… they're doing something. I don't know what but we're not safe. Somehow they knew that I knew and…" Samandriel gulped, painfully recalling what happened. Castiel himself seemed to be heaving deeper breaths, like he was having another attack of whatever overcame him earlier. Raziel's heart threatened to jump out of his chest as he listened closely. This was it. He was finally getting closer to what was happening. Samandriel was a witness. His testimony could expose Naomi's illicit activities in front of the Heavenly Host. Then she would face justice once and for all. "Somehow they found me out, like the others, like- like S-Sarah and- and…"

In that moment, moonlight glinted off something shiny in Castiel's arm. It all happened so fast. His arm jerked and suddenly, the blade was impaled through Samandriel's abdomen. Raziel froze where he stood, unsure of what he just witnessed. His heartbeat rose to a crescendo, rooted by the cold reality that he'd just watched Castiel stab the one angel who could have brought Naomi down. For a moment, his mind went blank, not yet accepting the scene before him. But happen, it did. _Was that him, or Naomi?_ The idea that any angel could control the actions of another simply by messing with their heads was… was a frightening possibility. And a very real possibility from what he'd seen over the past 24 hours. The pattering of footsteps in the distance snapped him out of his thoughts. The Winchesters. He had to warn them somehow.

Spotting Castiel with a bloody blade and a dead Samandriel, Sam and Dean rushed towards them, shocked. "Cas! What the hell happened?" Sam inquired.

"He was compromised," Castiel stood up, his movements robotic. "He came at me. I killed him in self-defence."

"Cas, you okay?" Dean eyed his friend worriedly. A single rivulet of blood leaked from Castiel's right eye. That was never a good sign, Raziel thought. He must be trying so hard to fight the programming. Would this be the fate of his brothers and sisters if Naomi gained control of Heaven? What of Earth then, with all the Quartum and subliminal spell-work?

"My vessel must have been damaged in the melee. I have to go. Samandriel's remains belong in Heaven," Castiel bent down, putting Samandriel's arm over his shoulder to carry him.

"Wait, where's Raziel?" Sam looked around them.

"He must have gone back to Heaven," Castiel posited as he stood up, supporting the weight of the dead angel.

"Cas, wait," Dean implored.

"Thank you both, for everything you've done," he said. His eyes looked eerily blank, like he wasn't present in the mind though his body was there. With that, Raziel watched as Castiel flew upwards.

"Cas!" Dean called out after him in vain.

"We need to talk," the boys jumped at the sound of Raziel's voice.

"Where the hell did you go?" Sam frowned at the angel.

"I saw everything," Raziel answered, cutting off any further questions from them. He had a grave expression on his face as his eyes turned to them. "You have one hour of my time, as per our agreement. And there are things you want to know."

"What, right now?" Dean exchanged puzzled looks with his brother.

"No time like the present," Raziel gave them a half-tilt of the head. "That, and I need to ask a favour." The boys didn't look too thrilled about that. "Trust me, you'll want in once you hear what I have to say."

* * *

A/N:

Hello again! I know I haven't been uploading regularly and it's because of school stuff. Life just moves so fast in college. But not to worry, I've been writing in those precious few moments of spare time I get and I have a lot of exciting things planned! So how did you guys like seeing things from Raziel's perspective? He is an angel desperately trying to do the right thing and abide by Sophia's rules, yet his recent change in behaviour seems to reflect something far darker. How will this fare for him? We'll find out soon.


	55. Bleed For The Dancer, Fool

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 55: Bleed for The Dancer, Fool**

 _ **Rufus' Cabin, Whitefish, Montana – 7 November 2011, 8.02pm**_

Raziel barely broke a sweat teleporting the Winchesters with their car to their chosen location. He did it despite Dean's protests but what did they know about the Raziel's time constraint? "Ward the building. Wouldn't want anyone eavesdropping on us," he ordered them. Dean gulped in confusion and frowned. Who was this guy to give them orders? And that was just rude, zapping them away like that. He definitely wasn't prepared and he stumbled on the ground upon landing. Sam, on the other hand, simply rested an arm on the Impala to support his own weight to avoid falling. The brothers just needed a moment to collect themselves. "We don't have all night," Raziel urged them.

Rolling his eyes in mild resentment, Dean stormed off inside and bust out the spray paint. Raziel made himself comfortable, choosing to sit on the red couch in front of the rather messy table with empty beer bottles and takeaway boxes littered on it. This was the first moment of true calm he'd had in the last two days. A buzzing in his pocket caught his attention and he fished out his phone. 48 missed calls. 20 messages. All from his team. Feeling an ache of guilt, he cleared all the notifications. He'd told them all that he was taking a break from work – like a vacation – for a few days. No doubt that lie had unravelled spectacularly by now. Raziel didn't want to talk to any of them about what he was doing until he had something substantial to show for it. Otherwise, he was just putting them in danger by allowing Naomi to use them to get to him.

The whispers sounded loudly and clearly. Raziel flinched, putting two fingers to his temple as he focused. "Raziel is wanted for investigation," the voice on angel radio said. "I repeat, Raziel is wanted for investigation."

 _Shit._ Now they were on the hunt for him. There really was no turning back now. This had all better be worth it.

"What is it?" Sam's voice snapped him out of it.

"It's the Home Office. They're hunting me now," Raziel replied honestly. After all, he did agree to answer their questions.

"Why? What do they want with you?" Sam pressed as he helped Dean out with the sigils.

"I'm onto something that someone up there doesn't want me to find out." There was a reason to this vagueness, of course. No one outside these four walls must hear what he had to say. As soon as the sigils were completed, the boys sat opposite him, across the table. Reassured by the contained room, Raziel told them what they needed to know. During that one hour, the Winchesters found out more about the situation in Heaven – how the power balance was uncertain, and how the angels' freedom rested in the balance. Assuming that Raziel was telling the truth, the Winchesters would have to trust him. Assuming being the key word. Bobby seemed to have trusted him to some extent. It was still a gamble regardless, just as it was for Raziel coming here.

Some of their questions were answered, some were not. But what truly mattered was the task the angel had cut out for them.

"Wait, in 6 hours?" Dean couldn't believe how little time they had left. "We won't be able to drive to Kansas in time!" Raziel gave him a knowing look and Dean suppressed rolling his eyes again. Instead, he resorted to a sigh as he nodded. "Right, you'll zap us there."

"Yes. And I take it you're familiar with making bombs?" Raziel checked.

"Yeah, no problem, but-" Sam leaned forward in his chair, his fingers intertwined as his elbows rested on his thighs. "But how are we going to rig the truck with all the angels guarding it?"

"Hm." Raziel hadn't thought of that. If they used a banishing sigil, it would immediately alert the angels on duty that something was wrong and he couldn't risk that. The whole thing would have to go down with no one suspecting a single thing to achieve maximal effect. An idea surfaced in his head. His first instinct was to ignore it. No way he was going to reveal an intimate secret of his work to two humans. But he was getting desperate. If he could do something to increase the odds of his plan working, he had to take it. With a heavy heart, he reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. The boys tensed up as he placed it gently on the table. "Relax, it's a tranq gun," Raziel explained. "I only use it for emergencies. And I guess this counts as one. It's loaded with sleeping potion and it'll work on angels. But use them sparingly. More than one dose could be potentially lethal to an angel." Dean's eyes widened at the possibility. He eyed the gun like it was a pretty girl giving him the time of day. His hand inched towards the gun slowly at first, and as he saw that Raziel wasn't stopping him, he picked up the fancy-looking thing and examined its exterior. The barrel was an engraved gold length and it was flanked by a shiny grey finish – a work of true craftsmanship. "I'll need that back." Seeing that the angel actually trusted them enough to loan a powerful weapon eased Dean up a little bit.

"Awesome," he couldn't help but grin but his smile faded as soon as he met Sam's solemn gaze. This was supposed to be a serious matter.

"Is that a normal thing?" Sam asked. "Angels using sleeping potion?"

"Well…" the angel exhaled. "Not in this high a concentration, no. Back when we had baby angels to raise, small doses of sleeping potion could be used to put them to sleep, since rest is especially important for the young ones. But once the nurseries closed off, we stopped producing sleeping potion. Until _someone_ had the noble idea to manufacture a concentration of the potion so high that it could put grown angels to sleep." Sam noted how Raziel began to sound bitter towards the end. It was only possible for him to sound so resentful when thinking of Raphael and what the archangel had forced their team to do. All in the name of proving their loyalty after Sophia fell. "Anyway, I'll text you the exact location you need to be at as soon as I find out. Which I intend to do right away."

The angel got up, gesturing for one of them to get rid of the warding so that he could leave. Sam volunteered, promptly moving to arm himself with a spray can. "What about Cas?" Dean said, standing up.

Raziel regarded the Winchester for a moment. He knew the Winchesters cared about Castiel, but to see it first-hand was something else. Strange how a friendship so strong could form between an angel and a human. There was something heart-warming about it, no matter one's feelings about the angel Castiel. Raziel locked eyes with Dean. He needed to hear the truth. "Castiel is not himself right now. But you must never let him know that you suspect anything," he answered. Dean averted his eyes, unsure of how he felt about that. "Whatever Castiel is being made to do, he needs your help to do it. Which means you can keep an eye on him when I can't. But I promise, I will try to free him."

"Not to sound mean-spirited, Raz, but why do you care?" Dean asked pointedly. "Couldn't help but notice the bad blood between you and Cas."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Raziel said. And he believed it, truly. "No one deserves to be controlled like that." A small smile lit up his face with the hope that he could make a difference with what he was doing; that his new approach would bear fruit.

* * *

 _ **Heaven – 8 November 2011, 9.15pm**_

Jeremiah looked anxious to be seeing Raziel again. "They're all out looking for you, sir," he spoke in a whisper, like anyone could actually hear them. They were back in the alley where they met, behind the towering building in which Naomi worked. "And not to worry, I didn't tell them anything about our meeting."

"Thank you," Raziel nodded in acknowledgment. "If they're all out then I suppose that leaves the important areas unguarded." Ah, a silver lining.

"Did you find him?" Jeremiah's eyes enlarged with curiosity and hope. It almost broke Raziel's heart. "Did you find Samandriel?"

"I did." Raziel gulped. "But… but I'm sorry." He had to endure watching the spark go out of Jeremiah's eyes. The angel looked away, jaw tightening.

"How did it happen?"

"He was being tortured. By the demon King Crowley." Raziel let it sink in for a moment before elaborating. "Right before he died, he mentioned something about Naomi and Crowley working together. I think Samandriel got too close to uncovering the truth about their alliance and…" The rest was history.

"So Naomi got Crowley to torture him?" Jeremiah frowned.

"Of that, I can't be sure." Raziel thought hard about it. Why would Naomi send an angel to Crowley like a lamb to the slaughterhouse? She did send Castiel to rescue Samandriel and then later kill him. Maybe this wasn't intentional. Maybe this was Crowley taking the reins when things got out of hand on Naomi's side. "I don't think she meant for Samandriel to get caught by Crowley. No matter what she's planning, allowing the demon King to extract Heaven's secrets from one of our own could not have been part of it," he speculated.

"Yet she failed to protect him," Jeremiah sounded dispirited. "I can't believe I've been working for someone like her."

"There is still time to change things," Raziel said, wanting to restore the angel's hope. "We can stop her before it's too late." Again, Raziel took a gamble. He didn't know for sure that Jeremiah would help him. From the way the angel looked at him – with uncertainty, with the desire for direction – he had no choice but to trust that this would pan out. He explained what he'd discovered and what he needed to do next. Jeremiah listened intently, nodding his head as all the details fell into place and explained a lot of oddities that he himself had noticed previously.

"Tell me what I can do," Jeremiah nodded, determined to help the Keeper.

Raziel's suspicions were right. Finding the river which the painting in Naomi's office depicted was the right thing to do. The first thing he noticed when he arrived at the river bank was how quiet everything was, with the exception of the constant burbling of water. Given how far this place was from the capital, angels rarely, if ever, came around these parts. In fact, most angels never leave the capital if they didn't have a reason. It would be easy to get lost exploring Heaven. _No wonder Sophia liked it here._ It was night on earth and so it was in Heaven. Five moons hung confidently in the sky, appearing as large, coloured orbs. Astronomy in Heaven was often confusing and seemingly didn't follow a pattern – few angels managed to crack the code and predict the patterns of planets, moons and stars in the sky on any given night. Surprisingly, it was Lucifer who had been good with discovering the laws of astronomy, not Sophia. Raziel's mentor had always recalled with delight how Lucifer had taught her to locate the stars. As the cool, fragrant breeze brushed past him, his eyes gradually swivelled from the sky to a point upstream. Though the horizon was visible from where he stood, a clear, bright light shone in the distance and it was at least discernible that this light was not from one of the several stars that littered the night sky.

Making as little noise as possible, Raziel signalled to Jeremiah and both of them crept up towards the source of the mysterious light in the cover of the thick forest that flanked either side of the river. They made sure to remain hidden in the thick ferns as they crouched on the forest ground, gently holding down a leaf to make an opening for their eyes. Through this opening he saw what they came for. A large field, lit up by bright lamps around the perimeter, lined uniformly with crops. _The Quartum._ Their flowers were large and white, with plump petals. A soft breeze blew and immediately, the distinct smell of the plant's fragrance caught his attention. Suppressing a gag, he put a pocket square to his mouth and nose, blocking out the smell, and gestured for his companion to do the same. Raziel's eyes hardened with strengthening resolve. This operation must have been going on for months. How did it even begin? Had he ignored the signs that this was going to happen? _I should've been more proactive,_ he woefully thought. Sophia's way of doing things, which she'd imparted to them, was to stay out of politics and focus solely on the discovery of new knowledge. Now that Raziel saw what he'd failed to prevent, he realised that it was time for a reform of the way his team did things.

Dark figures patrolled silently along delineated pathways in the soil. Fellow angels. Their eyes looked both focussed and distant at the same time. Must be that 'treatment' that he kept hearing about. One day, surely, he would work to put an end to that. Sneaking around the perimeter, Raziel and Jeremiah neared a compound that oversaw the plantation. It was eerie how the angels moved so robotically – more so than usual – and barely spoke a word when their paths crossed. Their glowing blue eyes seemed to move in the darkness like tiny floating orbs and their wings stood rigid as they did their rounds. These angels probably had never even left Heaven. The dead silence of the field creeped him out. They must have been subject to the harshest of Naomi's treatment to achieve this level of obedience. Raziel felt sorry for them and once again, he vowed to himself that he would free them from this slavery.

"How could they have agreed to be a part of this?" Jeremiah whispered next to him.

"They didn't," Raziel answered. His gaze scanned the field and the compound. He needed to find the delivery details somehow. Like where they were arranging to deliver it from and who was involved. The Winchesters would be waiting for his signal now, if they'd done what he'd asked. "We need to find a way in."

"There," Jeremiah pointed. A line formed at the entrance of the compound. There, at the wide doors, was an angel that Raziel recognised as one of Naomi's most trusted - Aviel. Something was different about this one – he was the only one with animated, lifelike movements. "Next!" Aviel yelled, as he checked the name of an angel against a list. The line moved as the robotic angel entered the building. From the heat signature of the building, Raziel inferred that this could be where the plant was processed to produce the fine powder he saw earlier. Signalling his companion to stay put, Raziel snuck around the edge of the building and found himself looking through various windows. Since this place was seemingly unknown to the rest of the angels, security wasn't very tight here. Naomi probably couldn't risk sending too many angels here when it was supposed to remain a secret. Too many unseen angels was bound to turn some heads. Raziel remained in the shadows, undetected by the lifeless gazes of his brethren lined up at the entrance. He saw the red-hot glow of metal in kilns. He heard the hissing sound of hot metal being doused in water. Most importantly, he saw the angels tirelessly slaving away like zombies. They remained expressionless, just like the ones patrolling the plantation.

Many angels were positioned at each station on each floor – there were four floors – and there was the occasional supervising angel with roving, cautious eyes. Raziel counted six of Naomi's goons in total – one guy guarding the field, Aviel at the door and one on each floor. _Only six?_ Naomi must have been supremely confident that no one would ever find out. At least that made it easier for him, except for one little thing – there was only one entrance and Aviel was guarding it. He returned to Jeremiah in the bushes. "I need a distraction," he told Jeremiah.

"I can talk to Aviel. Tell him I'm here to help out with the delivery," Jeremiah suggested. "But I'm not sure the others in line won't notice."

"They won't," Raziel stated confidently. "If I understand this correctly, they've been programmed to follow routine, like the builders of the capital in the beginning of time. They'll be unable to notice anything other than what they're supposed to be doing."

"That's a big 'if'," Jeremiah mused, nervousness tugging at his voice.

"Yeah, well, I've gone off a lot less the past few days," Raziel recalled, clearing his throat. "Have faith, my friend."

With that, they parted ways. Raziel crept around a corner close to the door that left plenty of space between the line of slave angels and the door frame. Jeremiah went back deeper into the forest and mustering courage, he spread his wings and flew onto the compound.

On seeing the angel, Aviel snapped out of his routine and tensed up, displaying a relentless frown on his face as Jeremiah approached. "Naomi sent me," Jeremiah said. Aviel's shoulder muscles relaxed slightly, though they still maintained his rigid form.

Holding his clipboard and pen to his side, Aviel asked, "What's the code?"

 _The code._ Raziel stiffened as he peeked around the corner. Of course there would be some kind of password to indicate that the angels worked for the same cause. It was basic information security. But if Jeremiah couldn't give him the right code… Raziel rued to think what he'd gotten his new friend into. "Uh…" Jeremiah seemed visibly nervous. Okay, not so much. Maybe it was just Raziel overthinking it. The angel tried his best to remain calm in front of Aviel though a keen observer would notice his knuckles trembling and his throat muscles tightening. " _Ol-Ho-Hoath_ ," he uttered in Enochian.

The pause lasted for what seemed like an eternity. " _Ol-Ho-Hoath,_ " Aviel nodded, repeating the same phrase. Raziel heaved a sigh of relief. _A true worshipper,_ the saying meant. It was a line from an old Enochian poem. Jeremiah chose his words well. "How may I help you, brother?"

That was his cue. Raziel slowly crept out of the shadows, nearing the door. Detecting this, Jeremiah held Aviel's gaze and adjusted his own position such that Aviel would have his back to Raziel. "I am to check the delivery details before it goes down tonight," Jeremiah said. Keeping low, Raziel took measured steps forward. Now was the moment of truth. The whole line of angels remained where they were, waiting for Aviel's orders. Dead though their eyes looked, they never seemed to falter from a single point in the distance. It's like they couldn't even sense movement around them, not even Raziel sneaking through the wide entrance of the door.

"But all the materials have already been shipped to earth. Why would Naomi send you here?" Aviel asked, scepticism evident in his voice.

"I am to ensure that everything has been done right from the beginning of the operation, starting from packaging and manpower allocation," Jeremiah lied. Aviel merely nodded as though what Jeremiah said made any sense to him. Naomi's name did inspire fear in those that knew well what she was capable of. "If you could show me around, I will be on my way."

"Very well, then," Aviel relented and let him in. "Time for a little tour."

By this point, Raziel had gone deep into the compound, searching for an office. All the important details were bound to be there. As he crept through the dark first floor, among the labouring angels and melting heat of the kilns, he searched every corner only to find nothing. Must be on a floor above then. There had to be some way of locating the office that would save him time, he hoped. As he crept under the stairwell, the distinct sound of Aviel's voice sounded close. The two of them were approaching. Raziel quickly slid under a work bench, completely ignored by the angels standing around it separating flower petals. Just then, the two of them walked past the bench towards the very same stairs that Raziel intended to take. If Jeremiah noticed, he never let on. _That was close._

Keeping a safe distance, Raziel made his way up the stairs to the second floor and immediately ducked behind a crate and held his breath. Slowly, another of Naomi's passed him, keeping his eyes out for anything unusual. Before the angel could turn the corner, Raziel slipped into the other side of the crate. The higher floors were all platforms with the centre left as an open space which allowed the furnaces on the first floor to reach high into the ceiling of the building. Railings bordered the edges of the floors. Raziel leaned against a railing, letting his eyes adjust to this new perspective of the whole building. That's when he spotted it. The office was a small, walled room in the corner of the highest floor. That's where he would go. Determination guided his gaze as he monitored and memorised the routines of all the supervisors patrolling the building.

No one noticed the agile shadow expertly navigating the building as Raziel finally made it to the office. Looking around once more to make sure he was in the clear, Raziel gripped the lock and twisted. A frown eclipsed his face. _Locked._ All of that manoeuvring in the darkness and patience was for nothing. He suppressed a laboured sigh. Now what? Which one of these angels would hold the key? His heart began to pace as he thought of how much time was left. His wrist watch read 11.29pm. Only three and a half hours left. The Winchesters would need time to find the truck and rig it too. _So many things to do, so little time,_ his restless mind nagged at him. _Perhaps_ _you shouldn't have wasted so much time on the Winchesters._ Crouching as he approached the railing, Raziel peered at the angels, as if glaring at them from a distance would somehow reveal who had the key that he needed.

Footsteps sounded on the steps. It was Aviel approaching, with Jeremiah respectfully following behind. It seemed their last step was going to be the office. Of course. He should have guessed so. If they made it up the stairs, they would run right into an uninvited intruder. _Quick, Raziel, move!_

"As for the more intricate details, we have them under lock-and-key. Right this way," Aviel beckoned as they began towards the door, which was down an unobstructed corridor from the staircase. The jingle of his keys was lost in the loud rumbling of the heavy machinery down below as Aviel unlocked the door and entered, Jeremiah entering closely behind. The latter angel took a quick peek behind him, as if now worried that his friend was nowhere to be seen. To his relief, Raziel gently dropped down from the metallic scaffold on the ceiling, barely making a sound as he entered the now-open door. "So the actual shipment is already packed and ready to go on Ear-" Jeremiah struck Aviel hard at the back of the head, knocking him out. He caught the body as it fell and gingerly laid him on the ground. Triumphant, he shared a well-deserved smile with Raziel, who closed the door to restore their privacy.

"How did you know the code?" Raziel broke the silence, the question taking utmost priority in his mind. He was well-aware that neither of them would have made it in here were it not for those correct words.

"Well…" Jeremiah rubbed the back of his head as he stared at the unconscious form of the angel passed out on the floor. "I may have… eavesdropped on people I wasn't supposed to… I know it's wrong and probably a sin but I was just too curious." He had the look of a guilty angel but considering the circumstances, he probably didn't feel bad about it. _And he shouldn't_ , Raziel thought. He managed a comforting smile at that.

"Jeremiah, if you ever find that you are bored by whatever work Naomi has got for you, someone with your… affinities could prove very valuable on my team," Raziel offered. "No brainwashing, I promise."

A toothy grin widened on Jeremiah's face. He nodded, willing to consider the offer. Both of them worked quickly, scouring through the drawers and tables for anything useful. "A list of all the angels working here?" Jeremiah said out loud as he held up a document and scanned through the pages. "All these names… forgotten like they don't even exist," he lamented with a growing look of horror on his face. "How could they have taken so many of them without anyone knowing?"

" _They_ have their ways," Raziel answered monotonously as he held up some papers himself. "And we have ours." Finally, his eyes caught a glimpse of what he was looking for and his heart did a little jump. "Here it is. Oh-"

Jeremiah turned around when Raziel's voice got cut off. He found the Keeper sighing at the piece of paper and shaking his head in resignation as if he'd just heard a bad joke. "What is it?" Jeremiah asked, hoping that it wasn't bad news.

"The universe has a great sense of irony…"

Dean's phone beeped just as the boys loaded the readied bombs onto the back of the Impala. Of course, they weren't completely done making them because that would be dangerous for them. The remaining would have to be assembled once they were physically on the truck. Dean wiped his sweaty forehead as he checked his phone. With the clock on his phone reading 12.03am, he was beginning to worry he wouldn't hear from the angel. "Would ya look at that?" Dean huffed.

"What?" Sam asked as he patted his damp neck with a cloth.

Dean showed him the phone screen with what could be assumed as a look of amusement on his face. "Winchester Road," Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

* * *

"Are you sure the Winchesters can handle it? That many angels?" Jeremiah's face bore concern.

"These are the humans who stood in the face of archangels and resisted. I believe they are capable," Raziel reassured him. "I've told them not to kill any of them as much as possible. Enough of us have died." An uncomfortable mixture of guilt and remorse stirred in the pit of his stomach as he thought of the angels he'd hurt just the day before. _No more._

"Alright. Now what?"

"Now…" Raziel took a steady inhale as he contemplated his next move. His deep brown eyes met Jeremiah's ones. "Now we must burn this place to the ground. Not a single gram of Quartum must remain here."

"But all these angels…"

"We must evacuate them. Somehow," Raziel acknowledged. "But first, we must make sure that we can destroy everything here without leaving anything behind. And the only kind of fire angels can't extinguish with a wave of the hand is holy fire."

"All this land – it will require a rather copious amount of holy oil," Jeremiah mused.

"That's not a problem," Raziel said self-assuredly. "What will be challenging is to spread all that oil over the crops and the factory."

They both stood in silence, trying to come up with a solution. Raziel drummed his fingers on the table at the centre of the room as his racked his brain for a quick-fix to all of this. _Time is of the essence,_ he kept reminding himself. Unfortunately, the constant pressure of time was interfering with his ability to think. He kept on worrying about all the horrible things that could happen if his mission didn't succeed. His brethren in Heaven were on the hunt for him for killing three angels, the Winchesters could possibly be walking into an angelic death trap and the human race was on the verge of becoming slaves to Naomi and Crowley. A lot was at stake here. "I've got something," Jeremiah finally spoke up. When he told Raziel his idea, the Keeper had to consciously repress a loud laugh of excitement.

"You are clearly a talented angel, brother," he clapped Jeremiah on the back. "Be ready. I'll bring the holy oil."

Jeremiah nodded, feeling an unfamiliar warmth emanate from his chest. In truth, he'd never expected the famed Keeper of Knowledge to be so… friendly. The angels never heard much about what it is the knowledge keepers did except that they were noble and to be respected. They used to give plenary lectures a long time ago – a tradition begun by their beloved fallen mentor – and these lectures were so famous that almost all of Heaven attended them simply because they were always so fascinating and a lot could be learnt from them. But as the years went on and the chaotic fruit of Eden exerted its true nature on humanity and earth, fewer and fewer angels had the same enthusiasm to learn. And then the lectures were stopped and the academy was closed. Not like there were any more little angels to educate anyway. No one really heard from the knowledge keepers much after that.

 _ **Winchester Road, Kansas – 8 November 2011, 12.47am**_

"Over there," Sam pointed through the window of the driver's seat. A narrow dirt path branched away from the road at a right angle, leading into an area densely populated by trees. Through the canopies, dark though it was, the boys could make out a roof. This was the only building in the area for miles and green pastures extended in every direction visible to the human eye here. Funny that this opportune spot chosen by Naomi had to be on a road named Winchester, like a plan bound to go wrong because the universe seemed to favour the Winchesters no matter what happened. Dean slowed down as he drove down the unmarked path, driving close enough but not so close as to alert the angels. As they got off and snuck around the perimeter, Dean held his new favourite toy in his hands. He still didn't know how he felt about returning the thing to Raziel – Hell, he still didn't know if he trusted the guy – but he just wanted a chance to use it. Use it sparingly, the angel had said. _Screw that, I wanna knock some holy rollers out with this bad boy!_

Eleven angels. That's what Raziel had said. Eleven shots. They were down. "They're really sleeping like babies, huh?" Dean wondered in amazement as he and his brother stood among the knocked out bodies of the angels, the long end of the tranquilizer darts sticking out of their necks.

"Let's get to work," Sam ushered, unamused. He was uncomfortable with the whole not-killing angels. Sure, Raziel said they would be out for hours, but Sam still worried that they would just get up in a minute and attack them. This was too much faith to be putting in any angel, save Cas. _Or not._ He just remembered the events of a few hours ago.

Sam was in the middle of adjusting a trip-wire with a plier when wings fluttered behind him. "You knocked them _all_ out?" Raziel exclaimed, flustered at the sight of his brethren around him.

"Jesus!" Sam flinched. "Doing delicate work here!"

"My apologies," Raziel said _unapologetically_ , extending his arms to the side in a mocking gesture.

"You needed us to rig the truck," Dean reminded him as he brought over another bottle containing their explosives. "And how are we supposed to do that with these feather-dusters walking around?"

"All I'm saying is…" Raziel was trying his best to keep calm. "Crowley will be expecting an _angel_ to drive that truck to him. You don't think he'd be able to spot you coming from a mile away?"

"You're an angel. You do it!" Dean suggested indignantly.

"I'm busy!" Raziel argued. "This isn't the only thing that needs my attention. Up in Heaven…" He pulled a hand down his face, sighing. "I don't even know why I'm explaining this to you. There isn't much time before the delivery goes down and Naomi will want to protect the crops after that…" he rambled to himself as the boys stared blankly at him. Raziel, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed on the bodies of his unconscious brothers and sisters. "Wait…" he muttered as his eyes lit up with an idea. "I got it." His lips flashed a smile.

"Got what?" Sam beckoned him to elaborate with a half-nod.

"You boys…" Raziel developed the idea more clearly in his head. He paced about, only drawing the Winchesters into more confusion. "You boys go ahead with the plan. Start driving towards the farm just on the outskirts of Assaria. Pray as soon as you're close – but not too close – and I'll come."

 _ **Heaven – 8 November 2011, 2.13am**_

Jeremiah waited anxiously by the river bank when Raziel appeared, a large barrel in hand. "Should suffice, don't you think?" Raziel patted the barrel proudly.

"Yes. It should do nicely," Jeremiah agreed, though anxiety eclipsed his face. "I'm just concerned that we are exposing all those angels to so much holy oil. What if they catch fire before we can get them out? With all those furnaces there, it's a certain possibility."

"Fret not, brother. I have a plan," Raziel spoke again in that confident voice that gave those around him hope. "Let's load her up first."

What came next required precision of timing on both their parts. Raziel stood ready by the six taps that connected to the pipes which irrigated the whole field. On his signal, Jeremiah twisted the knobs on the taps manually and furiously. Simultaneously, Raziel harnessed water from the river and made it flow through the pipes despite Jeremiah stopping the taps, which were in turn connected to a larger pipe that channelled river water. Struggling, Raziel held on, maintaining the illusion that river water was still flowing through the irrigation channels even though the pipe connected to the river was cut off. "Hurry," Raziel groaned as the muscles of his body strained with effort. It was taking almost all of him to precisely teleport water from the river into six different pipes but it was crucial that no one come to check on what happened to the water supply.

Jeremiah scrambled to unscrew the taps from the contraption that funnelled water from the river into them. In its place, he connected six hoses to each tap. These hoses were in turn attached to a connector which had one end immersed in the barrel of holy oil. Once he was done, he rushed to reopen the taps, allowing the holy oil to flow through the irrigation pipes, dousing every inch of the field. "It's done," Jeremiah announced. With a great relieved sigh, Raziel let go, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Satisfied, they both approached the compound again, staying hidden in the cover of bushes. "Alright. Just one more step, and it'll all be over," Raziel felt like there was hope again. Finally, one success after many failures. That's when a voice reached him. _Raziel, we pray that you grace us with your holy presence on this dirt road in buttfuck nowhere,_ Dean Winchester's unmistakably gruff voice sounded in his head _._ "I have to go," he stated.

"Wait," Jeremiah beckoned, his hand gripping Raziel's arm a little too quickly. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Raziel's gaze softened. "You'll do just fine, Jeremiah. You've done so well so far and you know what to do."

Raziel straightened up. He had to take his leave now or risk missing the delivery. "Thank you," Jeremiah called out before the Keeper could spread his wings. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity to do the right thing."

"Follow the path to the truth no matter where it takes you and you will not be let down," Raziel quoted Sophia. He gave Jeremiah a respectful nod and took off.

Alone again. Jeremiah repeated in his head what he needed to do. _You got this._ Pushing his fears aside, he marched on towards the building. He stood boldly at its front, just as Raziel instructed. He timed it right so that the angel watching over the fields would have his back to him. Aviel wasn't at the doors either – the slave angels had all gone to their posts so he was probably patrolling the inside. With as little force as an angel needed to mutilate his own human vessel, Jeremiah tore open an incision on his left palm, drawing blood. In the darkness of night, the crimson liquid appeared stark black as he began painting it on the wall in the form of an angel-banishing sigil.

 _So far so good._ He was almost done. "Hey, what are you doing?" A voice caused him to jump. Jeremiah jerked to see none other than Aviel staring at him with a frown-riddled expression. _The jig is up._ A dreadful moment passed as Aviel's gaze flickered between Jeremiah and the sigil he was drawing. Immediately, Aviel drew his blade, rapidly approaching the angel.

"I'm sorry brother," Jeremiah uttered as he brandished his own blade and blocked Aviel's strike with a noisy clang. As he parried another strike and kicked the angel backwards, he realised that the only option he had was to kill Aviel. There was little time in between strikes and dodges to finish the sigil. As Aviel swung the blade again, Jeremiah was almost caught off guard, having been lost in his thoughts about getting everyone out of there safely. He blocked the first strike but he only barely missed getting fatally cut. Instead, he fell backwards with only a large gash across his upper arm, leaking angel grace. Aviel got on top of him to finish him but he pushed against Aviel's arms with all his strength. Finally, the angel's arms relented and Aviel flung backwards heavily onto the ground. By now, the scuffle had gotten the attention of the other supervisors, who were now rushing towards him though they were far enough away to buy him some time. Reluctantly driving his blade through Aviel, Jeremiah got up and rushed to dab the blood on his hand onto the wall in that familiar pattern that angels knew all too well. His arm burned with pain and he felt his shoulders begging to drop. But he held on. Just as an angel armed and ready to strike ran out of the doors and dashed towards him, he slapped a bloody hand onto the sigil.

A bright flash of light erupted and suddenly, it was all empty. Jeremiah took a few steps forward, relishing the sight of the empty fields. He turned his head to look into the building. No one was in there. Just lonely fires burning to keep no one warm and molten metal floating around unbounded. That's when he noticed a spraying sound. It came from the direction of Aviel's dead body, which lay alone in front of the door. But just a few feet away from him, an irrigation pipe was broken and clear liquid sprayed out of it in a tall arc. Must have been the impact of throwing Aviel backwards. Jeremiah studied the spraying liquid as it accumulated on the ground. It was a rather large puddle. His eyes followed the widening puddle to see a small stream departing from the main pool that was forming. It led into the building, its tendrils extending towards the furnaces. That's when he remembered. _It's holy oil._

No one in Heaven expected to hear a deafening explosion when it happened. The flames roared, reaching into the sky in a blaze of unforeseen absolution. The angels all took to the sky at once, wings holding them afloat in the air as they observed the fire spreading from a single point in the distance. Not only that, but it seemed that a large number of angels were shooting across space in a radius away from the point of the fire, their trajectories marked by a trailing blaze behind them. Some of the angels watching this whole debacle were scared – no, all of them were scared. "What the hell's going on?" someone asked. No one had an answer. They just watched ominously as the brilliant blue flame of holy fire reached its arms into the forests. It grew at an unprecedented speed. Though the origin was nowhere near Imperium, the capital, the very rate at which the scary azure Achilles' Heel of angels seemed to be approaching them was enough cause for widespread panic. "God help us!" someone else yelled. The other angels followed, repeating this mantra as if their Father was sure to come to their rescue.

* * *

 _ **Assaria, Kansas – 8 November 2011, 2.43am**_

Raziel spotted the boys as he flew down from Heaven. Sam checked his watch, awaiting the angel's arrival. Just as he was about to relax his wings to make a stable descent, a sudden shove knocked him off his route. With a hard landing, Raziel felt the breath being knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ground. He was on his back, though he felt someone holding down his chest. As his blurry vision focused, he found himself staring into those cold blue eyes that he dreaded so much. "Naomi," he snarled, wary of the blade being pressed to his throat.

"I should've ended you a long time ago," she growled, face contorting in rage. The Winchesters were not too far away, though all of this was invisible to them. "Why do you always have to stick your head where it doesn't belong, Raziel?"

"Because it's my job," his jaw tightened as he spoke.

"Then it's a good thing I found you when I did, isn't it?" Naomi's eyes glinted with malice as she pressed the blade deeper into the base of his neck. He groaned a little as she drew grace.

"Wait!" he pleaded, pushing against her with all his might. "I know all about your plans. About Crowley, about the Quartum, about how you're growing them in Heaven."

"It won't matter if you're dead," she spat out bitterly.

"Oh but it will," his lips grew into a crooked smile as he locked eyes with her. "I have people. People who won't hesitate to blow the whistle on your little operation if I don't return home and tell them not to." By people, he meant Jeremiah. Singular. But that didn't matter in that moment.

"You're lying," Naomi denied, though her grip on the blade was wavering.

"But are you willing to take the chance?" he asked. "Why don't we talk terms? A mutual exchange."

Naomi hesitated. She had him. Right here, right now. Her enemy. Her opposition. The obstacle to her greatness. She had him pinned down to the road. She could end it all. But he was sly. Sly like her. "Your silence about my work…" she began. "… for your life."

"There's more than that," Raziel demanded. "My reputation. Call off this angel-hunt on me and clear my name."

"Done." Hesitating at first, she backed off of him and let him stand up. "Now leave this place."

"Leave?" Raziel huffed. "Did you think I was actually going to let you go through with this operation?"

"Raziel…" Naomi's tone grew so grave in the manner that most angels feared. And if looks could kill, her glare could be Heaven's most powerful weapon. "You have meddled enough with my plans."

"Yes, because it's a stupid plan," he argued, undeterred. "You're working with Crowley! The demon King! What do you hope to achieve with that?"

They both slowly paced, moving in a circle about each other. "Crowley is controlled opposition," she explained. "Heaven will have its victories, and so will Hell. It's the natural order. I don't expect an idealist like you to understand that."

"And how well is that working out for you?" Raziel probed, energised by the atrocities he'd witnessed that day. "Samandriel getting kidnapped and tortured for information – is that what you call controlled opposition?"

"That was…" Naomi averted her gaze, looking sullen. Raziel wasn't sure she was capable of such an emotion until then. "That was a mistake. It won't happen again."

"Is that what you told yourself when Sarah and Marcus went missing too?" Raziel questioned. "Tell me, did they also get captured because they found out about your little secret?"

"How did you…" Naomi seemed puzzled. "How do you know about that?"

"I told you," Raziel reiterated. "It's my job."

"By the time I found out what they were up to, it was too late," she confessed, her voice easing up slightly. That's how he _knew_ she was telling the truth. Better late than never, right? "I never heard from them again."

"All this time, the demon King has taken our kind for his own use and you're still here," Raziel spoke calmly, though the bitterness was evident in his tone. "You're still here keeping your end of the bargain. How much do you actually stand to gain from it, I wonder?"

"The earth will be ours to shape once the humans are under control," Naomi explained her position. "At least they won't destroy themselves. It's for their own good."

"Our role has never been to control them, let alone enslave them," Raziel rebutted. "They have free will. They must _choose_ right from wrong. They cannot be forced to make decisions."

Naomi huffed, almost bursting out in derisive laughter. "After all these years, you still don't get it, do you? What did I expect? You always listened to what that wretched archangel had to say," she snapped. Raziel's eyebrows creased, unsure of how she could turn even this conversation into a tirade against Sophia. "They only have free will because of the Forbidden Fruit. The fruit that the Devil and his whore tempted Man to consume. That wasn't part of God's plan! Humans are now the result of the corruption of God's plan. The result of _evil._ Their free will is _evil_!"

"You are so wrong on so many levels," Raziel disagreed. "But now isn't the time to argue theology. I'm going to lay it out for you very simply: Crowley is a filthy demon who has taken advantage of you for so long. Let me deal with him. If all goes well, he won't be a problem after tonight." Naomi's pondering eyes regarded him for a moment. Clenching her jaw, she nodded and prepared to leave. "Oh and Naomi, before I forget, there is one more thing."

"What is it?" she asked, not bothering to hide her exasperation.

"Those angels you enslaved to produce the Quartum – you _will_ restore them to normalcy," Raziel ordered. " _All_ of them. I'll check."

"You ask me to concede so much it might be easier to take your life!" she drew out her blade, ready to charge him.

Raziel put his hands up quickly and whistled, suppressing a smile. "Whistle-blowers," he reminded her as she halted in her step. He sure enjoyed torturing her. Her nose crinkled with fury she could not express. "Better hurry back home. I think you will find that there is a situation that requires your attention."

Raziel watched triumphantly as she spread her wings and took off. With a spring in his step, he neared the Winchesters.

"'Bout time you showed up," Dean remarked as Raziel appeared before them. He and Sam leaned against the front of the Impala while the delivery truck was parked in front of it. Dean's gaze was caught by a glowing slit on his neck. "What happened?"

"Like I said. Busy." Suddenly self-conscious, Raziel buttoned his collar and pulled up his tie to conceal the incision. He gave the truck a once-over, checking that it was intact. "You left all the Quartum inside, right?"

"Yep," Sam assured him. "It'll go boom, along with the truck."

"Great. I'll take it from here," Raziel said. He walked over to Dean and extended a hand. Dean simply stared at him, confused. "My gun."

"Right," Dean reached into his back pocket and held the tranquilizer gun for one last time. He took one long look at it, admiring its design and shiny finish. Raziel exhaled as he patiently waited for the human to be done with it. "It was fun while it lasted."

"I'm sure," Raziel's eyes narrowed condescendingly as he received the gun and returned it to its rightful place in his coat.

Just as the angel made to open the door to the driver's seat, Sam called out after him, "Don't stand too close."

Raziel nodded, keeping the warning in mind. With a heavy heart, he entered the angel death-machine and took off. The Winchesters brought out beers, hoping to watch some demons catch holy fire from a safe distance. Suddenly, the night sounded more exciting than they'd initially hoped.

As the truck pulled up in front of the farm house, Raziel was immediately greeted by a horde of demons waiting patiently for him. He glanced at his watch. 2.59am. Right on time. Surprising, considering the number of obstacles he had to cross that night. Raziel eyed the demon King cautiously as he got down the truck and stood in front of the doors to its rear. Crowley was impeccably dressed in black and wore a cunning smile, as usual. "Just one angel? I was under the impression that a whole troop was coming for the delivery," Crowley said casually. He seemed surprised but it didn't appear to affect his judgment that much.

"Naomi said I would suffice for you," Raziel responded. He studied Crowley closely, seeing as this was the first time he was actually meeting the guy. The demon brought with him a whole battalion of demons. He probably wanted to be _very_ sure that nothing went wrong.

"Ah, a one-angel army. Not many angels could have that honour. The last one was killed twice by archangels," Crowley remarked. "Be careful, my fine-feathered friend."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Raziel advised. He held the King's gaze, staring into those deep, crimson pits he called eyes. Something about the way the angel stared at him rubbed him the wrong way, but there was little time for doubt. Only instinct. One of Crowley's demons promptly moved to check the delivery. As soon as a click from the door handle sounded, Raziel was out of there. A metallic wire snapped inside the truck. And just like that, the dead silence of the night was defeated.

Raziel barely made it to the Winchesters' side when a bright flash and a thunderous explosion resounded. Scraps of metal, ripped from the truck and set ablaze, soared into the sky as smoke bellowed from the flames. From where the three of them stood, they could hear the screams of demons running around clawing their faces with their hands as they desperately tried to put out the flames. The sulfur of their spirits only made the fire burn brighter and suddenly the smell of sulfur filled the air. "Ugh, gross," Sam moved to cover his mouth and nose with a cloth.

"Was Crowley there?" Dean asked as he stared straight at the Hellion campfire. Everything about it was so satisfying. He thought it might be the best thing he'd ever see.

"Yes," Raziel answered, finally relieved that all the Quartum was destroyed. A true victory for his cause.

"Good," a smile spread across Dean's face. He reached into the backseat of the Impala and pulled out another beer, which he then offered to Raziel. The angel smiled and thanked him for the drink as he popped it open and enjoyed the sight of the explosion with the Winchesters. Suddenly Dean was grateful that he had the opportunity to witness and be the cause of something so glorious.


	56. All About Eve

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 56: All About Eve**

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 10 November 2011, 5.35am**_

It was claustrophobic. Zara felt her mind swirl uncontrollably. She couldn't move, she couldn't see and she couldn't feel anything but the cold, invasive water pressing against every inch of her body. _Get me out of here!_ Her heart raced and a sense of impending death flooded her bones, becoming the only sensation that she knew. In that darkness of sensory deprivation, incoherent images floated around in her vision. Suddenly, something strong heaved her upwards and she wasn't in the water anymore. She gasped in fright, gulping large amounts of air as she felt fresh air enter her nostrils. Someone pulled away the cuffs binding her wrists and feet and someone else pulled off the blindfold and ear muffs too. Sensations crowded in her head in an instant. Bright white lights blinded her. People murmuring filled her head, blocking out her own thoughts. Someone held her by the elbows and dragged her away. She felt invaded. On top of that, it was cold. So, so cold. Her body trembled like a leaf in the wind, almost spastically longing for warmth. Around her, all these strange people were wearing strange white hazmat suits with black goggles, appearing like faceless entities. She, on the other hand, was in the same outfit she was in the day she woke up here – a plain black shirt and a pair of pants to match. Now, of course, she was drenched and her clothes stuck to her skin uncomfortably. She wanted nothing but to take them all off and curl up on her mattress and wait for the end of the world to take her away.

She hadn't spoken a single word in a little more than a week. Her lips were sealed shut and her eyes stopped seeing what was in front of her. It was all just moving images now. People came to her room, people took her away, people made her do things. Then she was back in the dark, red room and she would resign to the warmth of the bed and the blissful comfort of the dark red light. They stopped asking her questions after the incident with the spell. It was all experiments now. They asked her to levitate things and make things light up but of course, she didn't know how to do any of that. So then they moved onto sensory deprivation, which was what she'd just experienced. They would wake her at odd times of the day, like when she was asleep, and drag her in her half-sleepy state to the contained lab in the basement where everyone except her wore protective equipment. And then they'd chain her to a metal pole with rungs for her to stand on and cover her eyes and ears before dropping her into a cylindrical tank full of ice-cold water. What any of this was supposed to achieve, she didn't know. But they kept repeating the treatment, so she guessed they must have gotten something out of it.

Zara sat quietly as someone dried her hair and changed her clothes. Her umber eyes stared blankly at the plain grey wall, following the movement of a house fly as it traversed a thin crack in the paint. She tried to think but found that there were no thoughts in her head. She tried to understand how she felt but nothing came to mind. _Emptiness._ She felt empty. No life in her bones. No sense of time. Like a hollow statue she stood, contemplating how much more of this isolation she could take. It almost seemed like the only life left in her was the one growing in her womb. Absent-mindedly, her palms shifted to rest over her tummy. Then they returned her to her room and shut the door, leaving her alone again.

* * *

 _ **Heaven – 10 November 2011**_

It became somewhat of a routine now. Fill a bucket with water from the river, fly to the spot and hurl the water at the fire. The angels got into the flow of things, everyone united despite their allegiances and pitching in to put out the dastardly flame. Though it had been a couple of days, the flame continued to roar like an untamed beast, lashing out with its infernal talons like an animal trapped in a corner. There had been true panic in the beginning when the explosion sounded, with angels cowering and crying and yelling and doing whatever it is the beloved sons and daughters of God did when they were terrified. They were lost, unsure of what to do in the face of something that had no life yet raged like a leviathan come to eat them. They felt powerless. And then Naomi came and ordered everyone to near the fire and use the water from the river to douse it. Raziel came shortly after and it appeared like the two of them had suddenly become best friends overnight. With Naomi telling them to listen to Raziel and Raziel telling them they shouldn't be afraid of the fire, the combined morale boost of the two leaders working hand-in-hand to coordinate relief efforts invigorated the angels and propelled them towards action.

The fire hissed and steam bellowed into the sky as the angels assaulted it with water. Finally, after hours of effort, it finally showed signs of subsiding. Motivated by the sight of its waning strength, the angels increased their pace. With one last united shower of water, the last inkling of fire died and silence fell over the forests once again. Seeing that their long and hard efforts finally bore fruit, the angels collectively threw up their arms and cheered. It was the first time they had all been so happy in a long time. They celebrated like they had won a great battle except the enemy was something inanimate.

"Attention, brothers and sisters," Raziel announced. Everyone was gathered in the open-air hall where they normally had meetings. It was time for a debrief. "We understand that you must have all been frightened by the sudden inexplicable explosion. Investigations will soon be under way, headed by Naomi and I. As for our siblings who were blasted away from the site of the explosion, we seek your help in retrieving them and delivering them to Naomi's care." Raziel eyed Naomi, reminding her of their deal. She was to undo the treatment on the slave angels so that they would not be slaves any longer – they would become their normal angelic selves, not robots.

Nods of understanding and relief could be seen. "And I have an apology to make," Naomi began, her face contorting with reluctant seriousness. "I know that I had called Raziel under investigation prior to this disastrous explosion. It has recently come to light that I was mistaken in assuming the Keeper's culpability in the merciless slaughter of our brethren. After all, he would never be willing to put one of our own in danger." Though her words sounded sincere, Raziel could feel the tense bitterness emanating from her very skin as he stood next to her on the stage in front of everyone. "And for this, I would like to apologise."

"It's alright, Naomi," Raziel 'benevolently' relented. "It is your job and mine to do whatever it takes to keep our kind safe. Mistakes are bound to occur. Let's put this behind us." He extended a hand to her, flashing a wide smile that irked her on the inside considering the asymmetrical concessions that were needed for both of them to stand there that day as friendly leaders of the angels. Their eyes met. Naomi smiled but her eyes glared as though to say 'this isn't over'. She extended her hand in turn and shook his hand in front of the angels. Raziel grinned confidently, beaming rays of hope to all who watched them. All except a certain few. His team. They seemed unconvinced. He had a lot to explain to them and he was well-aware of it.

"Today we have united under Heaven's banner to keep our home safe," Naomi began as they both regarded their brethren. "But we are still angels. Protectors of humanity. And there is a demon King who would threaten our watch. Let us adjourn, my siblings, and return to our duties."

"Hear, hear!" someone shouted. Murmurs of agreement erupted and the assembly disbanded.

Naomi and Raziel faced each other, ready to move in opposite directions. "This doesn't change anything," she whispered so only he could hear her.

"I don't expect it will," Raziel replied as he took off. Another look at the anticipating gazes of his friends told him that they needed to have a nice, long chat in his office. There was something else, though. At the back of his mind, one concern remained. His new friend. Jeremiah, the angel who'd been of paramount help to him, was nowhere to be seen. Raziel didn't remember seeing him in the assembly or the firefighting efforts. Where had he gone? Raziel wanted nothing more than to make sure he was okay and deliver his deepest gratitude. But first things first…

 _ **Raziel's office, New York – 10 November 2011, 2.17pm**_

"Vacation, my arse!" Shemsiel was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. They all stood ominously around a conference table in a room in his lofty apartment. "Taking a break, my arse."

"Please, sit," he beckoned as he placed a tray of glasses and wine on the table. "Drink, anyone?" He poured some wine into a glass and held it out in an inviting gesture. "No? Okay." He swirled the cup once and took a sip as the others merely watched in unspoken bewilderment.

"Wine?" Dinah huffed in annoyance, her several piercings bobbing with her head. "Are we celebrating something?"

"We are celebrating the day Naomi has finally conceded something to us," Raziel stated as he took another gulp. If he could feel their annoyance radiating from them, he made no sign of it.

"Raz…" Pahaliah spoke up with a gentle frown on her face. "We were worried about you. We didn't know if we'd find you alive or dead, with the way things were looking in Heaven."

"I realise that," Raziel averted his eyes. "And I'm deeply sorry for what I must have put all of you through. Truly. But I did what needed to be done. I _will_ tell you all about the details of my mission, not to worry."

"That's not what we're worried about," Shemsiel said. He hid his expression behind sunglasses as he always did. "You went behind our back. You lied to us. You left us in the dark. You-"

"I get it," Raziel cut him off. "I know it was wrong. But I had to do _something._ I had to act quickly. There was no time to explain it all to you."

"Wasn't there?" Shemsiel challenged. "Wasn't there time when you thought of the lie? Wasn't there time to answer a single call from any of us?"

"Shemsiel, I'm sorry-"

"We don't want to hear it," he snapped. "I thought we were a team, Raziel. You said we had to look out for each other and keep each other in the loop so that we could all stay safe. What does it mean if you thought the best way to handle whatever situation you got yourself broiled up in was to isolate yourself from the rest of us?" Raziel said nothing. He knew he brought this on himself and just sat there, taking it. They deserved that much. "And don't say some shit like you were protecting us. We can protect ourselves. Did you not trust us enough to let us know what it is you were after?"

"Of course I trust all of you. I would trust you with my life!" Raziel pleaded. "But Naomi is dangerous. She would stop at no lengths to pull us down."

"Tell us something we don't know," Rahab interjected. He seemed calm – relatively calm, compared to Shemsiel – but still wore a grave expression. "This is a dangerous path, hermano. We need to stick to our principles now more than ever."

"I understand that. Believe me, I do," Raziel gulped, his words weighing heavily on his tongue. "But how much more do we have to endure by sticking to our principles, while Naomi gets ahead with her less-than-ethical methods?" Silence fell over the room. It wasn't that anything he said was convincing them. More like the opposite – they were all dumbfounded that these were the words their leader was saying. "Tell me, my friends, what would Sophia have done? She would have done whatever she thought was right, no matter the methods or consequences. And how many times has she kept us in the dark for our own good?"

"And where has that gotten her?" Shemsiel uttered slowly but sharply. "I'll tell you where – _Hell._ "

Raziel exhaled painfully. _It's going to be a long day._

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 11 November 2011, 11.54am**_

Zara was back in the interrogation room. _It's been… it's been… I don't know how long it's been._ Without so much as a glimpse of sunlight, she'd lost count of the days and the nights. It could have been weeks for all she knew. She only knew when she was awake and when she was not; when she was hungry and when she was not. But it had been a while. She sat again on the same, stiff metallic chair at the cold table, with a camera poised in front of her. "Hello again," Thomas greeted as he entered. Toni followed closely behind him. _That dead-eyed sadistic cunt._ Toni had been present for many of the experiments, overseeing them and instructing her on what to do. All that time spent together with her had been mentally draining for Zara, who felt nothing but hatred burning in her chest for the woman. She didn't even know why she got so angry but something about Toni's whole aura just put her off.

Zara drank from her glass of water as the two of them got settled around the table with their various folders in their hands. How much information could they possibly have to warrant so many files? "Shall we start?" Toni asked.

"I still don't have anything to tell you about Sophia or Lucifer," Zara's voice sounded soft and raspy. Her throat muscles were still unfamiliar with talking.

"Oh we're not going to be talking about them today," Toni said as she crossed her legs and rest her palms on her lap. "Today's all about you, Zara."

Zara huffed. "I'm not that interesting," she dismissed.

"I beg to differ," Toni rebutted, her voice playful in all the wrong ways. "I've always wanted to know what kind of a low-life self-loathing loser a person would have to be to run away with Satan." Zara scowled at that.

"Alright," Tom interjected. He didn't want this interrogation to become a passive-aggressive back-and-forth between the two women. "Zara, let's start with your childhood." _Oh no._ Zara didn't want to go back to that place. She'd spent so long trying to forget. "You were born in Belland, Oklahoma. Your mother is a first-generation immigrant and your father's second-generation. You were the youngest of two children to your parents. You had an older brother named Dev."

"Are you just going to recite facts about my birth?" Zara interjected. "Is there a point to all of this?"

"There is," Tom answered. "You see, these are just words on a paper. They describe who you are in the eyes of the law but they don't give us any clue as to who you really are." He flipped a page, his eyes scanning the lines of information. "The point of this exercise is to get to know things about you that aren't on the record. We're going to run through the information we have little by little and you're going to give us your account of it all."

Zara stayed silent. She didn't like where this was going. Her whole life, laid bare on some pieces of paper. She wondered what gems of information were going to surface. "So tell us," Toni spoke up, wearing that thin polite smile on her face. "What was your childhood like?"

"What do you want me to say?" Zara asked. "It was a long time ago. Nothing interesting to remember."

"What were you like as a child, I wonder?" Toni suddenly asked, leaning forward in her chair. She twisted a fancy ballpoint pen between her fingers as she rested it against her chin. "Did you play well with the other kids in school?"

Zara chuckled a little, though it was more from confusion. "I don't get it… Am I being questioned on everything I've done since I was born?" She huffed, almost laughing. The whole thing sounded ridiculous. "Will I be punished for being a bad child? For not sharing enough candies with the other kids in kindergarten?"

The interrogators didn't seem amused. "According to various teachers' reports here, you were always a withdrawn child," Toni read off a page in her file. "In elementary school, you always sat in the corner while the other kids played. You barely spoke a word."

"So? I was shy. Loads of kids are shy that age," Zara's smile faded away. Such a trivial thing to focus on, she thought. It didn't prove anything.

"Shy…" Toni tilted her head downwards, as if the very word sparked some deep thought in her. "Do all shy kids punch other kids in the playground?"

"What?" Zara frowned. That was not what she expected to hear.

"January 11th, 1994. You punched another kid during snack time," Toni stated in the most serious tone.

"Well…" Zara was dumbfounded. She had no recollection of the memory. "I'm sure I must have had a good reason."

"You were 7. So was the other girl," Toni rebutted.

"Okay, do you want me to say sorry for something I did when I was 7?" Zara shot back. "I was a kid and kids do stupid things."

"But you were no ordinary kid, Zara," Toni said, locking eyes with her. "You were born to be an archangel's vessel."

"How does something I did as a kid have anything to do with why I'm here?" she asked in a flustered tone.

"It has _everything_ to do with why you're here," Toni said sharply. "You were born to say 'yes'. You made the decision to say 'yes'. We just want to know what kind of circumstances had to be there to make someone like you. Someone with no regard for the sanctity of the world. Someone who would make a deal with the Devil."

"So what? You think I'm some kind of crazy? Is that it?" she huffed, shaking her head. She couldn't believe the things she was hearing. "Sorry, but I'm as normal as normal gets. All my bolts are in the right place."

"Then why did your parents take you to a therapist when you were 12, and then again when you were 16?" Toni asked, her index finger finding the words on the page. "They were getting you tested. They wanted to know if there was something wrong with you."

"And they didn't find anything," Zara uttered each word with force. Clearly that wasn't a good memory. "The therapists said I was normal."

"That makes you a good liar, I suppose," Toni mused. "What kind of psychopath could fool even the most experienced psychologists into thinking that they're normal?"

"Now you're just giving me too much credit," Zara challenged. "Psychopath? I couldn't lie to my own mother without getting smacked upside the head if I wanted to."

"Interesting you mention that," Tom chimed in. Zara was mildly relieved to hear him speak. He didn't emanate quite as much of a sinister vibe as Toni. His eyes just seemed more… human. "Let's talk about your parents. What was your relationship with them like?" Still, Zara didn't want to say anything. Why should she give them anything they wanted? "It says here that you ran away from home to go to college. You technically still are a missing person in Belland. I'm guessing that you mustn't have liked them very much if you took off without giving them a clue as to where you were."

"Oh please, they knew where I was," she muttered under her breath and folded her arms. "They were just being overdramatic, as they usually are."

"But why the animosity?" Tom leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "What did they do to you? Did they abuse you?"

At this point, Zara was finding it really difficult to remain expressionless. Try as she might, her eyelids twitched uncomfortably as a string of memories came to mind. All those years of trying to forget were now slowly unravelling, using her mind like a screen at a theatre. _Don't let it show. Don't let it show._ Tom and Toni exchanged a glance during her silence, like they both finally realised that they'd gotten somewhere. "You have the magic file with everything you need to know," Zara spoke in a low voice, almost so softly that they couldn't hear her. "What does it say?"

Toni pulled out a piece of paper from the file and held it up. It was too far for Zara to read the words but she could see the paragraphs on it. She laid the paper down on the table, holding it down with her fingers. "It's an interview. With your mother," Toni explained. She made to push the paper towards Zara but stopped abruptly. "She was so willing to cooperate when we said we could find you. A pious woman, that one."

"Must have been a colourful report," Zara remarked, her voice growing hopeless. She could only imagine the total ire her mother would have by now. More than she must have had before. "I bet she told you all sorts of things."

"And what do you think she told us?" Toni pressed. "It would be best to hear it from you, since you probably wouldn't want people to judge you solely based on your mother's account."

"What's there to say? She's a crazy, Jesus-loving woman," Zara shrugged. "There's all there is to it. Unfortunate that she had to give birth to someone like me, isn't it? It's almost like she knew what I would become from the start…" She suddenly felt self-conscious that she'd said so much at all. This was all too personal. _Must retreat into inner shell._

"I'm very sorry to hear about your unpleasant upbringing," Tom said, to her surprise. She looked at him and he didn't look like he was joking. _Well… okay._ "Do you want to read the interview and help us corroborate the facts?"

She noticed how he gulped nervously as he mentioned the interview. Was it something her mother said? As much as Zara was curious as to what her mother's glowing testimony would say, she feared that she would just crush the paper and yell really loudly and angrily in front of them. This was like reliving a part of her past that she never wanted to remember again. Every phase of her life… marked by the scars on her body and mind that she hid from the world. She already felt the rage surging through her veins, threatening to burst out of her skin in a fit of anger. It's what the thought of her mother did to her. God, she hated that woman. She took a deep breath in and released it slowly. "No thank you," she responded.

"That wasn't a request," Toni stated pointedly. She slid the paper across the table, leaving it in front of Zara.

Zara simply leaned back into the chair. She stared straight at her interrogators. She didn't want to give them any more than they already had. "I don't want to."

Toni narrowed her eyes. Her chin tightened again as a sign of her rising impatience. "Fine," she took back the paper. "I'll read it out for you." She cleared her throat as her eyes roved up to the top of the page.

" _Zara was always a troubled child. I don't know what sin I must have committed for her to turn out this way. There were so many times I tried to make her repent. To make her right in the eyes of God. But she never changed her ways. She must have single-handedly driven the angels away from our home. When she left us, I must admit that I almost wanted to thank God for relieving me of the burden of keeping her in line. Yet, I still can't help but feel… loss right now thinking of her. It is every mother's affliction."_

That stung a little. Zara clenched her jaw and averted her eyes. _An affliction, huh?_ It was totally believable that her mother would say these things, yet it hurt all the same. Just sitting there, listening to her mother's words in someone else's voice was enough to make her feel like her heart was growing thorns and cutting her insides. Toni continued.

" _I remember when she was 8, my husband's brother visited us. That day, I saw the way he looked at her – like she was some piece of meat to be eaten. I told her to stay away from him but she wouldn't listen. She just wanted to play with him, dancing in her dress and running around with toys in her hands. Such a young child and she was already tempting men. I had to lock her up in her room so that she wouldn't lead my brother-in-law astray."_

Zara felt the ache sting her heart. She remembered it. She was excited to see her uncle for the first time, having only heard about him in the stories that her father used to tell her. Having been such a lonely child, all she wanted was someone to play with. It made her so happy that he sat down with her in her room to spend time with her. Until he started touching her. She thought nothing of it first. How could she? She was a child. Then his grip grew stronger on her back, on her shoulder… and then on her thigh. He went slowly, sliding a palm up her thigh and suddenly she didn't feel so comfortable anymore. She wanted to back away but he had another arm rested on her back, keeping her close enough to him. That was when her mother found them. He immediately retreated his intrusive hands and shifted away from her, but her mother knew well enough what was happening. Zara still didn't understand what was going on but she remembered clearly the frustrated look on her mother's face. Her mother stood like a monolith, in that long flowing dress, frowning at her while her uncle simply walked out of there slowly. Her little heart started pounding wildly as her mother entered the room and shut the door behind her. That was always a bad sign.

"What did I tell you? You're not supposed to go around the house talking to men who visit us," her mother whispered angrily.

"But he just wanted to play, mom," she'd justified.

"Did he want to play, or did you ask him?" Her mother knelt down to her level.

"I… I did," Zara's face became sullen, suddenly feeling like she did something wrong though she didn't know why. "I was lonely."

"Then play with your brother," her mother snapped.

"But he's at soccer practice, mom," she answered innocently.

"So you'll invite men into your room?" her mother asked accusatorily. "The Lord doesn't like girls who ask other men to come to them." Zara felt fear spread through her bones. "Do you want to be a whore, Zara?" _Whore._ She didn't know what it meant at that age but she knew it was wrong for some reason.

"No," the little girl shook her head, close to tears.

"Whores go to Hell. Do you want to go to Hell?"

"No, no," she continued to shake her head. Thoughts of eternal damnation and hellfire swirled in her little head. It scared her.

"Then repent. Ask God for forgiveness for what you've done," her mother commanded. "And remember, good girls keep their legs closed."

When her mother left, Zara heard the lock click when the door shut. She'd locked it from the outside. Her heart sank every time her mother did that. She just sat on the ground, hands clasped as she rested them on the bed, and prayed just like her mother told her to. She prayed to God with damp eyes, asking Him to forgive her for being a bad girl. She begged Him not to throw her in Hell, saying that she would be a good person. _God, give me the strength to resist the Devil._

"Shall I continue?" Toni's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "This is just the beginning."

"Well, you're not going to take no for an answer," Zara dejectedly said.

"First, what do you have to say to that?" Tom inquired, pausing Toni with a small gesture.

Zara shrugged, glancing at her fingernails. "Pervy uncle. Who hasn't been there, am I right?" She raised her eyebrows sarcastically.

"I think you might find some comfort in knowing that he's been imprisoned for multiple sex offenses," Tom informed her, voice sympathetic. "Quite serious charges, frankly. Some accounts include physical assault."

"He's fulfilled his destiny," she remarked dryly. _Like I fulfilled mine._

"How did you feel after this incident?" he asked, being as respectful as he possibly could. "Did you experience any trauma?"

Again, she shrugged, but also shaking her head this time. "Not the best time of my life. Hope he gets hurt somehow. That's normal, right?"

"Well, he did," Toni pointed out. "Just a few months into his sentence, he got shivved in the gut. Unknown cause. He was supposedly alone at the time of the attack. But he still lives." Zara made a shocked "ooh"-face. She grimaced a bit, taken aback by the brutality of the situation. "Did you know about that?"

Zara huffed. "How? How could I have known?"

"I don't know," Toni reciprocated her nonchalant shrug. "Maybe you had something to do with it. The incident happened some time after you ran away from home."

Zara wanted to burst out in laughter, but she refrained from it. "Again, how? I hadn't even met Lucifer then."

"You were going to become an esteemed person in Hell – someone favoured by Lucifer himself. Demons could have been falling over each other to do you favours," Toni hypothesised.

"Lady, do you even know demons?" Zara couldn't believe she had to spell this shit out. "They don't _do favours_ for people like me. Because my opinions don't mean shit."

"If you say so," Tom nodded, noting something down. "But you must know, the whole thing is still mysterious. Even your uncle is… _delirious_ about the situation. Claims a shadow with red eyes attacked him." Zara's eyes widened and frowned at the same time. None of that made any sense to her. "Anyway, moving on." Tom gestured for Toni to continue.

" _When she was 12, she began listening to satanic music. All that heavy metal stuff the kids were listening to. I think that's how the Devil indoctrinated her with his ways._ "

Zara smirked despite herself. _You crazy, stupid woman._

" _And she didn't have any friends so my husband and I were worried. Or maybe she had the kind of friends that she couldn't show her parents. So we took her to a doctor to see if anything was wrong with her. She argued with us, saying… Oh I still remember what she said till this day. It was ungodly, the way she was acting. Erratic. She was yelling at us. She said, 'How do you know what_ my _best interest is? I went to your schools, I went to your churches, and_ I'm _crazy?' Now what would possess a girl to say such things? But when the doctor got back to us, he said nothing was wrong with her. She must have used some kind of witchcraft to mind-control the doctor to do her bidding, I don't know."_

"You're not believing any of this, are you?" Zara suddenly asked, purely out of curiosity.

"We don't know what to think," Tom answered, calm as ever. "That's why we need your help."

"My mother's a crazy bitch," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of them. "There's all there is to it."

"That may be, but what does that make you?" Toni rebutted. "We haven't even reached the best part yet."

Toni cleared her throat. " _I went into her room one night and I recited the bible to her. It was my duty as a mother to bring her back to the right path even if she didn't want it. But what happened horrified me. As soon as I started reciting the verses, she kept telling me to stop. And then she started crying and yelling at me to stop and get out of her room. I got scared. Did a demon come to possess my little girl? So I did what I had to do. I…_ disciplined _my child and made her read the verses with me. Then I put up three crucifixes around her room and let her sleep. But I didn't trust anything that night. I went back to see her in the middle of the night and she was… she was gone. She wasn't in her room. And the three crucifixes… Lord help us… they were inverted. That was when I knew… she was beyond redemption."_

Zara rolled her eyes. By this point in her life she had given up on religion. She hated it so much that she couldn't even stand listening to people read from the she hated her mother so much that she just wanted to get out of the house for a while so she snuck out the window. The inverted crucifixes, well, were just a gimmick. She knew it would upset her mother and that's exactly why she did it. She'd heard so much about the Devil controlling her that she decided to play along with it. Not such a great move now that she thought about it.

"And then it goes on and on about the books you read, the music you listened to and the fact that you barely spoke to anyone at all," Toni scanned the rest of the paragraphs. "Oh but wait, here's something."

" _When she was 16, I suspected that she had been sneaking out of the house every night and I didn't know who she was with or what she was doing. Until one night, I saw her coming back and someone was with her. A boy. He was really tall and had long hair. He was probably her boyfriend. Unacceptable. She had probably already become impure by this point."_

Finally, something that made Zara smile. Jack – his name was Jack. And no, he wasn't her boyfriend. Better than that, he was her best friend. She met him when she was 14 and they'd been close ever since. He'd never overstepped his boundaries and always treated her with respect. They used to get up to all kinds of crazy shit – crazy, dangerous shit. But Jack always kept her safe, no matter what. Truth be told, if it wasn't for him, she'd still be a cocaine-addled junkie or she would have broken her neck attempting parkour. They tried as much as possible to keep their friendship on the DL – no one else in her life knew much about him and he didn't even go to her school – so it came as somewhat of a surprise to Zara that her mother found out. But when she did find out…

" _I had to drive nails into her window myself to keep her from sneaking out. But somehow… somehow that didn't stop her. I didn't know what to think. There was no way she could have gotten out the night after. It had to be some kind of demonic, unholy witchcraft, I know it."_

"Do you have anything to say to that?" Tom asked once Toni finished reading the line. He'd been observing Zara this whole time, keeping in mind her noticeable behaviours. When he read her file, he truly did feel sorry for her. Not only was she chosen by birth to become a vessel, but she'd also endured physical and emotional abuse from an overbearing, evangelical parent from a young age. Such an experience was bound to have affected her in some way but she never seemed to show it. He would have never guessed from looking at her that she'd been subject to all of this. Where were child protective services, he wondered.

"Well it wasn't demonic, unholy witchcraft, if that's what you're wondering," Zara smirked. "Just pure persistence."

"What about your father and brother?" Tom inquired. "What were they doing all this time? Did you get along with them?"

Zara exhaled slowly, the answer clear in her mind. _They said nothing. They did nothing. They were complicit and as unforgiving as Mom._ "Whipped into submission by my helicopter mom," she sighed. _Dev would rat on me to her. Cunt._

"Such an interesting account," Toni pondered, her eyes darting around the room as she put the paper back in its folder.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll write best-sellers about me," Zara replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

"Hm." Toni smiled briefly at that, before meeting her gaze again. "It is unfortunate what you went through as a child. No doubt such a… lack of compassion and perspective on your mother's behalf has made you into the person you are today. Impulsive, socially-inept, broken… probably even suicidal. Yet not everyone who comes from an abusive household becomes a servant of Hell. So what was it, then?"

"I know you probably think I'm a bad person," Zara muttered, thumbs fiddling forcefully under the table. Somehow her throat felt drier and raspier than before. Even through Toni's ire, the Brit's description of Zara felt accurate. Painfully accurate. "But I've never hurt anyone but myself." _A half-truth at best._ "Bet that's in your file somewhere. I don't care enough about other people to hurt them. I just want to live and let live."

"How many thousands of people died because you let Sophia into your body?" Toni pressed.

" _I_ didn't kill those people," Zara argued, though one face haunted her blinking eyelids. A woman with a pixie cut in a nightclub somewhere. A woman whose slit throat represented where her loyalties lay.

"But you enabled the archangel who did," Toni grimaced. Her voice grew sharper, like she was getting really fired up by what she was saying.

"I am not her. She is not me," Zara said as if she truly believed those words. "I was captured by Lucifer and forced to release Sophia. I did not choose to kill thousands of people. If I had any choice at all, I would have stopped her."

"So you say," Toni shrugged.

Zara exhaled sharply. "What do you want to hear, Toni? That I'm some kind of monster? Okay, so my childhood wasn't so good. I was chosen for some God-only-knows reason to be a vessel. So shower me in blood and call me _Carrie_ if it makes you feel better. But this is all I have to tell you and you can reject it or shove it up ya ass, I don't give a fuck," she droned on until she had no air left in her lungs.

"This is about more than just you," Toni uttered, frowning. "Maybe you don't realise it, but the Devil's still out there somewhere. He's already killed so many people. You say you don't want people to get hurt but every day you stay here, silent with information that could help us stop him, you put more and more people in danger. Your silence is just as good as murder!" A brief, tense silence fell over the room. "And I will be damned if I just stand here and take your half-wit comments."

Zara glared at her, looking deep into her irises. "Good," she spoke with the most sombre tone she could muster. _Finally, some divine justice._

* * *

A/N:

So I mentioned in passing about Zara's old friend, Jack. Keep him in mind because he'll be important later. I think he's one of my favourite characters (and I haven't even started writing about him yet!). Just to clue y'all in, I didn't _accidentally_ name him Jack /foreshadows aggressively/

This chapter was inspired a little by the song Institutionalised by Suicidal Tendencies, one of my favourite bands. The song is like a monologue by this guy who is ranting about how people think he's crazy and try to stick him in an institution just because they don't think he's normal. I did borrow some lines from the song for dialogue.


	57. It Makes No Difference Who We Are

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 57: It Makes No Difference Who We Are**

The keepers of knowledge. United by wisdom, divided by circumstance.

Nervously, Shemsiel waited by the giant willow tree with the striking blue leaves in the coldest part of Heaven. There was a never-ending debate in his head about whether he was doing the right thing. But with Raziel's shady mission, he realised that he had to do what _he_ thought was right. His job – and his team's job – was to ensure that Heaven's secrets were guarded; that knowledge was safeguarded. It didn't matter who they allied with in Heaven. This wasn't the time for petty rivalry. That much became clear after Raziel came back preaching about winning against Naomi. His boss' head wasn't in the right place. The guy spent a whole hour talking to the Winchesters, telling them about who-knows-what, just for the sake of beating Naomi. This wasn't right. This wasn't their way. Pawning information to curry favours wasn't their way. Least of all for the aid of two humans. The sacrifice would have at least had to be in service of their goal of protecting Heaven's secrets and evidently, it was not. Taking a jab at Crowley was nice and all, but it wasn't so relevant in the grand scheme of things. So Shemsiel found himself here in the _Hiems_ , an icy hinterland in some remote corner of Heaven. He was waiting for someone.

Raziel, on the other hand, was not on any mission. This time, he would _truly_ take a break. Maybe go down to earth and enjoy the sights and smells for a change. It was the only entertaining thing to do for someone like him. But first things first, he went to the infirmary in Heaven. He went down the rows and rows of beds, greeting his brethren who lay supine. Most of them had awakened. Raziel recognised them. They had been the ones to tend the fields of Quartum. His chest swelled with relief to see them alive and talking. They smiled as he walked past. Some were engaging in conversation with their neighbours. They seemed happy, albeit a little confused about what had happened to them. But more than that, they had life in their eyes. Luckily, they wouldn't remember what it was that Naomi had them do. It was part of the deal. Raziel counted all the angels present and mentally checked them against the list that he and Jeremiah had found in the compound. Everyone was there. Except one. Jeremiah.

"Did you come alone?" Shemsiel asked the angel in front of him.

"I assure you, I don't need an army to take _you_ ," Naomi replied. Shemsiel suppressed a groan. The cool colours of the landscape cast a white glow on her face, illuminating her greyish-blue eyes. "But I must say, your people have the strangest choice of locations. Not that it's a bad thing."

"What's truly surprising is that no one ever comes to these places. This is our home, yet we have such little understanding of what it has to offer," Shemsiel lamented. Against the white backdrop of snow and ice, his beige tank top and camo shorts stood out.

"And you? What do you have to offer?" Naomi sauntered over to one of the hanging branches of the willow tree, admiring the bright blue leaves that swooned from them.

"We both want the same thing," Shemsiel began. "We want the tablets safe in Heaven where no one can misuse them."

"That is correct," Naomi blankly agreed.

"It doesn't really matter which one of us gets to the tablets first," Shemsiel elaborated. He scanned the landscape, suddenly caught by its beauty. Nothing moved except the snow-coated plants and trees that lined the frozen lake in the breeze. The sunlight appeared white through the thick blanket of clouds, making the snow glimmer like diamonds scattered on the ground. "This is a good place as any to hide a secret that important," he remarked out of the blue. "But I'm getting distracted. What I mean to say is, I want to help. I want us to find the tablets. I thought if we worked together, progress might be faster."

Naomi's hand paused mid-air as she stroked one of the leaves. "Raziel didn't seem too happy about coming to me for help the last time," she recalled. "And admittedly, he seems to be taking pride in the fact that he's finally gotten what he wanted. So why would he want to cooperate with me now?"

"Well this isn't his idea. It's mine," Shemsiel confessed. Naomi turned to face him. That certainly got her attention. "Give me whatever leads you have. I'll get my team to help investigate them."

"And then what? You find the tablets and Raziel gets the credit?" Naomi huffed.

"It's not about getting credit," Shemsiel argued. "It's about doing the right thing. Let us do our jobs."

"Oh you, naïve, idealist, you," Naomi shook her head in pity. "That's not how anything works." She sighed, taking a few steps away from the tree. "I should have known this would be a waste of time." She spread her wings, preparing to take off.

"Wait!" Shemsiel yelled. Naomi paused, keeping herself at an angle toward him and not facing him completely. "An information exchange, at least. I know about you and Crowley." Naomi rolled her eyes, wondering whether this would be like the last 'exchange' she had with Raziel. If it was anything like that, she vowed she would stab Shemsiel where he stood and no one would be the wiser. "Crowley probably knows about the tablets by now. How would he feel about you getting in his way? He probably already thinks you betrayed him when Raziel blew up your operation, quite literally."

"Crowley's dead," Naomi stated. "He's not a problem anymore."

"Is he now?" His eyes beckoned her to stay.

Back on earth, Raziel retreated to the comfort of his office. Worry for Jeremiah burned in the back of his mind. Thinking back to the events of the past week, he recalled that a single burnt corpse was found at the scene of the fire. It had been charred so badly by the holy fire that it was barely recognisable. Whoever the poor sod was, the angels mourned him and laid him to rest. Raziel just assumed it was one of the workers. Aviel was also missing, yes? But what if… _No._ It couldn't be. It didn't look like Jeremiah. But then again, how could he tell? _What if he's hurt?_ Just as he landed in the apartment, he relished the aerial view of New York City. Bright sunlight spread across the cityscape, highlighting the buildings. The building of his own apartment cast a shadow on the street below and the block in front of it.

 _Drip._ That's when he heard it. _Drip._ His ears perked up. He spun towards the direction of the sound. It was out of place in his office. It came from upstairs. Armed with his blade, Raziel made his way up the black steps, his feet barely making a noise. He came upon the bedroom door. _Drip._ There it was again, but louder. His hand threatened to tremble like a leaf as he reached out to the door knob. In a swift movement, he twisted the knob and pushed, ready to fight off any intruder. But there was no intruder. It had to be a day like this when Raziel wished he wasn't right all the time. Blood dripped slowly, forming a large messy pool on his floor. He froze in his step. His breath was caught in his throat and he felt like ripping his own heart out. "No…" he muttered softly as he felt his knees go weak. On his ceiling, he found his new friend hanging by his wrists from a rope while his wings were pinned to the ceiling. Several brutal cuts lined his body so deeply that it was a wonder that he was still in one piece. His eyes looked like they had been pecked by ravenous scavengers. On his chest, a message that said, 'SOL-VOCH-TAY'. _Obey._

"My sources tell me that the demon King is still alive and well," Shemsiel said. The sun peeked out from beyond the clouds, its brilliant golden rays shimmering off the surface of the frozen lake.

"And pray do tell, who are these sources?" Naomi probed, now curious.

"I can't, but rest assured, your demonic accomplice would want some retribution," Shemsiel reasoned. "And I bet that he wants to get his grubby little hands on the tablets too. So either we both work together and accelerate our pace, or the demon King will come to possess the Words of the Creator Himself."

"He won't," Naomi said confidently. "Where would he even begin to look? At least we have something to go on."

"There is… something," he let out. This was it. This was what he'd been so conflicted over.

"Out with it, then," Naomi urged.

"You have to promise. Resources from both of us have to go into this. A collective effort," Shemsiel bargained.

Naomi locked eyes with him through those aviators. Her eyebrows creased slightly as she realised that she was onto something here. A real opportunity. "Fine," she relented. "I'll offer what I can."

Shemsiel nodded, gulping. "There's a repository on earth somewhere. Sophia left it there before she… disappeared. She said it would have everything she knew, which presumably includes the location of all the tablets," he explained.

Naomi's eyes widened. The muscles around her cheekbones relaxed, though her jaw tightened. "You mean to say that your team has known about this… repository… this whole time, and you've kept it silent?" she uttered sharply. "A lot of time could have been saved!"

"Not exactly," he said, putting up his hands in front of his chest as though to urge patience. "We only know it exists. We don't know where it is."

"Then what's the point? Maybe Sophia has played you for a fool," she huffed.

"That may be, but it is highly unlikely. Trust me," he pleaded.

"So no one knows how to find this repository?" Naomi inquired, looking puzzled.

"There is one person," Shemsiel answered. "The vessel."

Raziel's limbs felt heavy as he pulled out the nails from his ceiling and cut down the ropes. He held the angel in his arms like a baby as he sank to the ground. He didn't care that blood was staining his clothes and making such a huge mess in his room. He simply hugged the angel close to his chest. Unfettered, a tear fell from his eyes. "I'm… I'm so sorry… Jeremiah," he whispered.

Flowers bloomed instantly as Raziel covered the grave with dirt he'd dug up. Sophia's magic still flowed strong in the soil even when she wasn't here. Mentally drained, Raziel sat next to the tombstone he'd erected in the orchard of trees near Sophia's house. He glanced around once, finding the familiar spot where Eve, Mother of All, had been buried. Her grave had become a thriving ecosystem of its own by now. Raziel didn't know why, but this seemed like the right place to bury Jeremiah. Sophia cared about Eve and Eve was buried here. Having taken so much inspiration from the archangel, Raziel only thought it fitting that he lay his own friend to rest here. He hoped it wasn't intrusive of him to do so but honestly, he didn't care about what anyone thought in that moment. As he honoured Jeremiah by devoting his time to remembering their last moments together, he remembered the last thing they said to each other.

" _I have a bad feeling about this," Jeremiah said._ Oh it stung so bad to think about it. But Raziel swallowed his pain and continued with the memory. He deserved this pain. It was all his fault.

" _You'll do just fine, Jeremiah. You've done so well so far and you know what to do," he advised._

" _Thank you for giving me this opportunity to do the right thing," Jeremiah smiled softly._ Raziel remembered the inklings of pride threatening to overflow within his chest.

" _Follow the path to the truth no matter where it takes you and you will not be let down," Raziel said in return._ And look where that got him. Mutilated like he was meat fed to hounds and buried to become fertiliser. Raziel failed his friend. He despaired to think of all the potential Jeremiah had. Of all the great things he could have become. And it was all stolen from him. By Naomi. "I will avenge you," Raziel uttered. The Keeper's bones strengthened with resolve. There will be a reckoning. A day when the scales would be even. But today, Raziel needed some time alone with his fallen friend. Time to reflect and time to make peace. However, unbeknownst to him, he wasn't alone. Not really. He couldn't really expect to be, inviting himself into someone else's home, could he? That was what the silent angel thought as he watched from afar, through the cover of the trees. He'd been quietly reading one of Sophia's books from the house while seated in the tree branches when the fluttering of wings caught his attention. His eyes flashed red briefly and he retreated again, as he always did when he was too close to someone he knew. The man needs time alone, he told himself. And then, just like that, he was gone.

"Where is the vessel now?" Naomi probed. A gentle wind blew from the east, biting their skin like needles and pricks. Being celestial in nature, these were just sensory inputs to them, a detailed report from the human bodies they wore. Still, it was interesting to know that you were somewhere significantly lacking in heat.

"We don't know," Shemsiel answered honestly. "We've tried looking for months. She's hidden herself well. But if she's on earth, she's fair game for Crowley."

"Then we must find her," Naomi agreed. "I guess we're a team, then."

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 15 December 2011, An Ungodly Hour**_

Zara gasped, gulping volumes of air into her lungs. Her hair stuck close to her face, damp and cold, just as her clothes did to her body. That was too close for comfort. You'd think that being plunged into a tank of ice-cold water while effectively blind and deaf would get easier by the day, but that simply was not the case. "I would advise caution, Lady Bevel," Dr Berg said as he stood next to her in the control room, behind fibreglass. "It may not be good for the baby to push her too much."

"But I'm so close," Toni squinted at Zara from where she was. Even from this distance, she could see Zara trembling from the cold. Of everything they had the girl do, this was the only thing that yielded any tangible result at all. Zara was far too stubborn to talk and knew too little about accessing angel magic – or she pretended not to know. Either way, progress was slow and the higher-ups would want to hear something. It was almost two months and if they didn't hear from her soon, they would terminate the project or even worse – get someone to replace her. And she would not let that happen. She wouldn't let someone like Ketch take her promotion away from her. "She's surprisingly strong when she's forced to survive."

"That can be said of a number of things, I'm sure," Dr Berg blankly replied. "I want to examine her. Get her dried and sent to my office."

"Just one more round," Toni said, eyeing the erratic readings on the graph shown on the computer screen in front of her. All that power, it was remarkable.

"Then maybe I should ask Dr Hess to send her to my office," Dr Berg warned. Toni jerked her head towards him, taken by surprise. "Do I need to speak to Dr Hess, Lady Bevel?"

"No," she conceded, albeit half-heartedly.

"Very well then," he gave her a knowing nod. As long as he was there, he wouldn't let Toni hurt Zara. Though he realised the amount of trauma that Zara must already be facing with all these tests, he needed to make sure it wasn't too much that the baby couldn't handle.

Later, Zara sat still in his office, taking a seat right next to the doctor's table as one would in a clinic. He checked her heart rate and blood pressure, noting them down. She simply stared at the ground, unmoving. "All seems good so far," he remarked. "I'm going to need to know about your history and that of the baby's father." Zara felt a stab in the chest. _Nick._ She missed him so much. "I need to know about any drug or alcohol use."

She inhaled sharply. "We both smoke and drink, but evidently not quite as often now," she replied, still refusing to meet his gaze. "And I… I used to do cocaine when I was a teenager." Clearly, she wasn't proud of herself now. "Is it- is it going to hurt the baby?"

Dr Berg maintained a concerned expression though he did not voice his disapproving thoughts. "We can't say yet," he answered honestly. "But I will have to run some blood tests to find out."

Zara nodded meekly. While he drew blood from her arm, she worried about the life growing inside her. She had nothing but love for this child that would be hers. It was the only thing to look forward to here. Every day she endured whatever Toni and Tom had planned for her, she held onto the thought of seeing her child to avoid losing hope. But then she would think about what would happen to her child if she was still their prisoner and suddenly it wasn't such a happy thought anymore. That's when she would try to put the thought as far from her mind as possible. Still, she had a lot to be concerned about. Being emotionally healthy while pregnant was important. Prenatal epigenetic changes could have a lasting impact on a child's psychological well-being. It was one of those things she'd researched when she still had a post-graduate career. But she swore that whoever her child would turn out to be – good or bad – she would love him or her unconditionally. After all, she wasn't one to talk about good and bad anyway. What would Sophia do when she returned and found her vessel with a child in her arms? What would Lucifer do? Zara repressed a shudder. _Stop thinking!_

"Now let's hear that heartbeat, shall we?" Dr Berg offered as he brought out a Doppler from his drawer. He gently pressed the probe against her belly and turned up the volume. And there it was. A steady thumping rhythm. A pleased huff along with a smile escaped Zara's lips. That was the best thing she'd heard in a long time. The doctor himself was pleased by her reaction. Finally, something genuinely good to see in this place. He handed her the speaker and she held it carefully with both her hands while he still held the probe. Waves of warmth spread through her as she held the speaker near her ear. It was the most comforting thing to hear, she thought. "You can keep it."

Zara's eyes softened at that. It was the purest emotion anyone could feel. _Pure love._ "Th-Thanks, doc," she managed to say. "I appreciate it."

"As long as I'm here, Zara, I will make sure that Toni keeps her limits with you," he promised. "I know her tests can be… taxing. But you won't have to endure them for long, I hope. Once again, if I could just advise you to cooperate with them…"

"What's the point of these tests, anyway?" Zara asked. She knew he was probably not allowed to tell her too much but she thought it worth trying at least. "I don't have any ESP. I can't do jack."

"Toni thinks she's onto something," Dr Berg said, to her surprise. "Even if you don't know how to use your… um… _ESP_ , you're definitely capable of something. The results show as much."

"And what exactly are these results?" she probed.

"For one, that tank that Toni loves so much, is meant to induce a highly stressful environment with added sensory deprivation," he began. "And from experience, most people with latent magical abilities or other beastly conditions tend to act out in such an environment. Likewise, the electromagnetic waves you've released show strong signs of magical tendency."

"Alright…" she understood _some_ of that. "But why force it out of me? Why not show me how to access my _latent magical abilities_?" She knew why. They wouldn't want her to get out of hand. Still, they must have several protective mechanisms to make sure that wouldn't happen. "I'm not asking for myself. I-"

"For the baby, I know," he finished her sentence. He sighed dejectedly. The doctor had nothing but sympathy for the woman in his office. He knew just as well as her that these experiments could affect her in adverse ways if not supervised properly. "I understand." He took one long look at her. How she held onto the Doppler, how she looked at him like he was the only hope she had. "I'll try to talk to Lady Bevel about it."

* * *

A distinct lavender perfume filled the air as the witch rushed into the throne room. "My King!" she exclaimed, hurrying towards him as fast as her stilettos could take her on the warm stone floor of Hell. Esther threw her arms around Crowley, pulling him into a sweet embrace. "They told me you were gone!"

Crowley held her close enough to him so that he could see her face. That look she had, one of shock and worry, contorted her eyes so effectively that he could have believed that she actually cared. Maybe she did, he didn't know. As much as he enjoyed the attention, he was careful to maintain a sceptical emotional distance. After all, his past experiences with witches were very telling. "Esther, my sweet. I am a _King._ It won't be so easy to take me out," he reassured her.

She managed a relieved smile at that. Crowley relished how her long black curls hung lusciously on her ample-bosomed chest and how her dark purple dress stuck to her elegant hourglass figure. She wore a little goat-head pendant around her neck – a gift from Crowley – which seemed to lead seductively into the valley of her cleavage hidden so curiously under the neck of her dress. "What happened?" she inquired. "What went wrong?"

"We've been duped," he began. "It seems internal affairs in Heaven may have gotten out of hand and our business partner has lost control. Or maybe this was Naomi's plan all along. The truck was rigged with holy oil. Went up in flames and doused anyone in a 35-foot radius with holy fire."

"Sounds horrible!" she said, still unable to believe how any of this could have happened. "How did you get out of there in time?"

"I almost didn't," he admitted. "But I knew there was something sketchy about the angel that showed up. A deal like this, Naomi would have showed up herself. Anyway, I kept my eyes on him the whole time. And interestingly enough, he disappeared exactly a split second before the explosion. Lucky for me, I reacted quickly. I teleported away just far enough to see the explosion but not far enough to…" He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and pulled away enough to reveal a nasty burn. "To completely avoid damage."

"Oh no," Esther muttered as she reached out a finger to touch the scar. Crowley winced a little and she pulled back quickly. "Sorry." Her heart sank just seeing it but she was still glad that he was alive. "I can work something up to fix that."

"I would appreciate that," Crowley said, maintaining a studious gaze on her. _Such a curious thing._

Suddenly her expression flipped like a switch, growing sombre. A calm fury overlaid her delicate facial features though it burned through her blue eyes. "We need to pay them back for what they did to you," she stated. "We need to fry those winged trotters with holy oil."

"Patience, love," Crowley advised, though he could not deny that her suggestion sparked some enthusiasm in him. "The day for a reckoning will arrive. But our priority now has to be the tablets of God, namely the angel tablet. Just imagine the nuggets of wisdom we could discover about our dear angelic friends. Once we know their weak spots, we'll strike so hard they'll hide in Heaven for the rest of time."

A malicious smile spread across Esther's face. "Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "But where would we start?"

"With our little pet, of course," Crowley smirked. "Little old Meg was part of Lucifer's inner circle back in the end of days. She might know something."

"Sorry but what does Lucifer have to do with any of this?" she asked, slightly confused. Being a young witch, Esther was still not informed on all the intricacies of the history of celestial beings. Crowley was always patient with her, explaining to her things she did not understand. He only bothered so much because she was important. She was a powerful witch – quite a wonder considering her age. And the innocent oblivion in her eyes always made his heart flutter. Like she somehow… adored him. Every moment with her was an aching need to make her a part of him. It both confused and excited him simultaneously.

"Quick history lesson: Lucifer's missus was once God's most trusted. She held all of Heaven's secrets, which includes the tablets and their locations. Chances are, their pillow talk included some juicy gossip and Lucifer might have in turn let some slip with his inner circle," he explained.

"Right, so what? We stick things in Meg and hope she talks?" Esther clarified.

"No, _I'll_ stick things in Meg and hope she talks," Crowley said. "You, on the other hand, are in charge of something far more important. Our… side-project with the vessel. I'm afraid you'll have to pick up the pace on that one. We don't know how long it'll be before Lucifer crawls out of that pit."

Esther nodded solemnly. "I won't let you down," she promised.


	58. Ending Is The Beginning

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

How's it going, y'all? Hope you're well. Just so you know, I always keep writing so I have several chapters already written after this one, waiting to be edited before I finally post them. Can't wait for you guys to see what I have in store. And I have to mention this, just cause, that season 13 feels so fresh compared to season 12 and I hope it goes in a good direction. And when I watched the most recent episode (no significant spoilers, not to worry), I was just freaking out because OHMYGAWD that's exactly how I imagined The Void to look like! (I'm sure you guys know what I'm talking about). And that… _other_ … character has mannerisms similar to what I imagined Khaos to have. That's so cool. At least now I can describe a visual that you guys can envision as well. (thanks spn writers?) Hope you guys didn't miss dear Sophie too much but if you did, this is the chapter for you.

 **Chapter 58: Ending Is The Beginning**

(Sophia POV)

 _ **The Void – Unknown time**_

"You! Man the cannons!" I yelled. Another archangel with my face complied. There was only green light. The green from our eyes. It glinted off the obsidian swords we wielded. "Attack!" I commanded. At once, we flew forward, swinging the swords we held with both hands because one sword per archangel would not be enough. The beings spontaneously spawned from the ground, rising in a gooey form before taking on a more precise figure. They all looked like clones of Zorg, that robotic thing that stood guard outside my house until the day when everything changed for me. _The house._ It was just an image in my head, like a picture in a book. Something that possibly existed but now I wasn't sure. You see, existence means something entirely different in the Void. Thousands of universes lay outside these indistinguishable walls. Thousands of possibilities. What's real for me was not real for another version of me. What I had and what she had and what they had were all different. So what truly belonged to this entity named Sophia? Every day the answer became less and less clear.

Today we fought as one. As one Sophia. All it took was the push of one button. Surprising how something so simple could spark something so catastrophic as a rebellion. But I suppose that was always Khaos' way. That was His charm. And now He would face a demise of His own creation. If He wanted Sophia so bad, He would get it. The doors swung open at once in a rusty choir. "Sisters!" I'd called out as they sauntered out one by one. It was like they couldn't quite believe it themselves. I saw it in their eyes – there was no hope, no life, no making sense of what had happened to them. "Our time is here. Now," I announced. Something changed in all of us in that moment. It didn't matter where we were from, what we were made of. Light or Dark or something in between – we marched forward. For a typically empty, lonely place, the Void seemed to have taken notice of our collective assembly soon enough. Then they came. From the walls, from the ground, from the ceiling – the defenders of the Void, these misshapen things spawned all around us and took form.

They seemed to outnumber us. They growled menacingly as a tense silence fell over the large open area we found ourselves in. "Open" being a loose term because there was only ever a kind of ambiguous darkness in the Void with an inexplicable sense of light illuminating the way even though there was no source of it. It was like the whole place couldn't decide whether it wanted to be seen or not. In any case, the walls were far apart. There we stood, huddling against each other as these things emerged. Some of them seemed to be trembling. It had probably been a while since they'd fought anything. Or maybe they'd been mistreated like I was, or worse. I couldn't imagine what they must have been through. I hoped I could find out from them if we survived this. _If._

They had swords. We didn't. But we weren't programmed robots like them. We had everything they didn't. Anger, Hope, Love, Life. These things we held in our hearts while they simply did as they were made to – resist attack and defend the Void. I pumped my fist up in the air as I yelled and led the charge. My sisters echoed the war cry and followed me. Everything moved so fast I could barely keep up with who was killing what. Whoever we might have been before, none of it mattered now. Here we were all the same – merciless, ruthless, savage killers. No need for decency, no need for moral judgment. If it had shiny goo for skin, it had to die. It swung at me. I dodged and struck as hard as I could. I ripped off its helmet and smashed its head in with it. Something sticky coated my hands.

I took its sword, a long black thing with a hilt indistinguishable from its blade. Looked real pretty in a simple sort of way. Maybe I'd bring it home as a souvenir for Lucifer. Maybe that would ease his anger towards me, which I was sure he had. I felt a piece of me aching just knowing it. _Survival first, Sophia!_ I spun and sliced at another one of them charging at me from behind and grabbed his sword too. A gift for my son, perhaps. My gaze hardened. With a grunt, I blocked a strike. There would be no future, no past, if I died here. There must only be the present. I wasn't Sophia, the archangel of wisdom, nor was I a mother, a lover or a fallen angel. I was the sword on my left hand and the sword on my right hand. Blood was my language and survival my armour.

As the last one of these Defenders fell, I looked around and saw all of my sisters standing with the exact same look in their eyes. I suppose it couldn't be any other way – we all had the same face, a fact that I'd gotten used to by now. Somehow all of their eyes found me. They looked to me for command. But who was I to command them? We were all equals. Archangels of comparable strength and the same desire to destroy the being who put us here. "What's next, Commander?" one of them asked.

And that's how I found myself where I was right now. This was just the beginning. We needed to destroy the various mechanisms Alpha had put in place to protect His realm. Khaos may be an unstoppable force of destruction in the universes but here, in the Void, He couldn't be. It was the one place where He had no choice but to be vulnerable. The Void was like a fortress He'd built to keep Himself warm at night after a day's work in other places. That meant that if the fortress came crumbling down, He would be easier to take down. The first thing we needed to destroy was the mainframe – the apparatus that allowed Him to see within the Void. It was as good as gouging one of His eyes out, assuming they could be gouged out.

Thanks to Omega, I knew where everything was. Where did the cannons come from, you ask? Apparently the internal defence mechanisms included heavy weaponry hidden in the walls. With a little help, we managed to short-wire the walls and take all the weapons we could. And of course, as we marched up to the obsidian wall where the mainframe was built, more Defenders came. This was _war_.

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 25 December 2011, God knows what time it is**_

Zara lay curled up in a ball on the bed, bathing in the red light in her room with her back against the wall. Her body ached from all the experiments, cramping up in odd places. Despite eating all the meals they gave her, she still felt weak. Her body just needed a lot of rest and she wasn't getting enough here. Today she'd actually woken up on her own, without anyone storming into her room and forcefully dragging her away. It felt nice to get enough sleep for once. But what could that mean? Were they planning something? This didn't sit right with her. Nothing ever could in this dark, lonely cell. Being confined in here all day long was a different kind of death. She was left with nothing but her thoughts. It was driving her insane. Sometimes she wanted nothing but to claw her brains out. Sometimes she just yelled into her pillow. Either way, she'd run out of tears to cry. Maybe this was how Lucifer felt in the Cage. She shook her head. There was no way she could understand what Lucifer had been through. All she knew was what she saw when Sophia was in her head. Sophia's memories, floating around in that space that they shared. It was hard to focus on any one of them for too long but Zara was just amazed that she could experience any of them at all. Why did Sophia let her see these things? Why did Sophia let her feel so… included? Like she belonged in the company of a celestial being? What a spoilt little thing she'd been. Never cherishing the freedom and affection she'd had when she still had it. For that, she deserved worse.

 _She's not coming back. And you will live out the rest of your days in this room_ , a voice in the back of her head said. Her mind felt numb. _No._ Her lips pouted in defiance of her own pessimism. She took out the Doppler she'd kept under her pillow. Pressing the probe against her belly like the doctor had shown her, she turned on the device. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she heard the steady heartbeat coming through the speaker. She exhaled contentedly, keeping the speaker close to her face as she closed her eyes again. Comforted by the rhythm of her baby's living heart, she drifted back into sleep.

The door clicked open. Zara stirred awake, conditioned by the sound of the door to become conscious. As the large, bulky men waited by the door, she slowly got up and out of the room. "Sleep well?" Toni greeted her. Zara groaned internally upon seeing her. "Dr Berg talked to me about… your concerns." _Uh oh._ Was that a good or bad thing? "I guess we _could_ take a break from sensory deprivation for now. We're going to be doing something different today. _Merry Christmas, Zara._ "

 _Shit, it's Christmas?_ Zara would never have guessed. As they entered a room, she was immediately cuffed to a wall. Her hands were bound separately to the wall, meaning that they were spread out at a 45-degree angle away from her body on either side. The chains were short so she could move them to only a limited extent. After binding her, one man stood by the door while another opened up an opaque box on a table a few feet away from her. From it, he took out something – the only thing she had to remind her of life outside this concrete hell. Sophia's blade. Even from this distance, it glistened beautifully in the industrial lighting of the room.

"I'm sure you recognise what's in front of you," Toni's voice blared through a speaker in the wall. The Woman of Letters herself was behind a one-way mirror on the other end of the room, behind the table. "Now, various reports indicate that Sophia had telekinetic control over her blade. An ability that no other angel is known to have. The blade seems to only respond to her command. But will it obey yours?"

 _Fuck if I know._ Zara had a bad feeling about this. None of the previous tasks Toni had her do with regards to telekinesis ever ended up well. She couldn't levitate objects; she couldn't shift them. She couldn't even make a dent on them.

"Try to summon it to your hand," Toni commanded.

"Toni…" Tom spoke up next to her. Being in the control room, their conversation would be contained within the four walls unless Toni had the speaker on. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"I'm onto something here, Tom," she argued. "Just give her time. She'll give us something."

Tom nodded passively as he watched from the control room. Zara concentrated really hard. But honestly, she didn't know what she was doing. _I was promised instruction, dammit!_ Without anyone guiding her thoughts, how was she supposed to know what to do? All she could do now was wish really hard that the damn sword would move. And of course, it didn't work.

"Make it move, Zara," Toni ordered her with a slightly sterner voice.

Zara held her breath. Her arms stiffened in effort. A whimpering groan escaped her lips as she concentrated. She envisioned the blade moving and focussed on that image as single-mindedly as she could. She even closed her eyes. She tried so hard that her head was beginning to hurt.

"Do it!" Toni yelled, causing her to flinch. Zara's eyebrows creased deeply. But no matter how hard she thought at the blade, it just wouldn't budge. "I said, do it!"

"I can't!" Zara finally exclaimed, letting out a deep exhale. She panted heavily for breath.

"Try again!" Toni demanded. Zara shook her head, drained by the effort. She had the look of someone who'd given up on everything, someone who saw no hope in trying. Every day she spent here she was driven that much closer to the edge of sanity.

"I don't know what you want from me," she muttered under her breath, sinking to her knees as much as the cuffs binding her wrists would allow. Behind the glass screen, Tom unfolded his arms, unsettled by her state. This whole thing was a little unnerving for him – watching her slowly lose it from Day One till now. She came in strong and ready to fight anything and anyone in her way and now here she was, a withering mess in front of them. He didn't know how long this would have to go on.

"Get up and try harder, Zara," Toni instructed.

"Maybe we should let her rest," Tom suggested.

"She's rested enough," Toni dismissed. "All she does is sleep when she's in her room." Toni clicked a button on her keypad. In an instant, an electric jolt shot through Zara's body and she yelped. Horrified, she stared at the one-way mirror with widened eyes. "I won't ask again," Toni said through the speakers. "Get up and try again."

Zara's calves trembled as she summoned herself to a standing position. She suddenly became so conscious of the cuffs around her wrists. They must be connected to some wiring, she realised. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she stared at the blade. Her fingers tightened in a clawing position as she willed with all she could muster. Still, nothing. She relaxed, exhaling in desperation. Then it came again. Another shock. This time, she yelled louder, caught by surprise. Nothing went through her mind except how anyone could have thought this was okay. It was painful, which was something new about what they were doing to her. Sure, being dumped into a tank of water was highly uncomfortable and traumatising, but this was actual torture. Without a choice, she tried her relentless pursuit of telekinesis again, to yet another null response.

Toni observed silently. Her arm reached out to press the button again but Tom caught her forearm mid-air. "What do you think you're doing?" he inquired, eyes nervously blinking.

"Administering a controlled shock," Toni replied.

"But she's pregnant. This is dangerous," he advised.

She gave him an indignant glare as she pulled her hand away from him. Picking up a folder on the table, she drew out a few articles and passed it to him. "This won't hurt the baby. I did my research."

"There's still a risk of cardiac arrhythmia or even… even abortion!" he argued.

"Only if the voltage is too high," she rebutted. "Thomas, I'm not a monster. I wouldn't do that. Not even to a crazy misanthropic bitch."

"Then stop this," he pleaded. "It's not right. She doesn't know how. Have you considered that maybe your hypothesis is wrong?"

"We can't jump to any conclusions yet," she stood her ground. "So far, she's done well only when pushed to a fight-or-flight state. It's just the same for this."

"You mean it _could_ be the same. You can't even say _that_ for sure," he said, begging her with his gaze to stop. "Toni, I know you want results. But we have to stop and think about whether we are trying to find answers where there aren't. And frankly, I'm concerned about your methods."

Toni narrowed her eyes at him, studying him like she was a shark detecting blood in the water. "I've had more experience than you with these kinds of things. I know what I'm doing here. Do you?" she said. "You're here to learn from me. I am your superior. You will do as I say and keep quiet, you understand? Or I could just have you sent back to the home office."

Tom reluctantly nodded, jaw tensing. He watched as she pressed the button again and Zara whimpered again. Zara was shaking all over. _Please. Please just come to my hand,_ she begged the blade. Another shock came her way and she burst into tears. Then, two came at once. She screamed. But it wasn't from her mouth. Her vocal chords didn't move. It was a scream from her mind, sending a wave of energy outwards. The sword rattled on the table. Silence fell over the room. Zara reached out her hand as much as the cuffs allowed her. She felt it now, like a thread in the air. It was very faint. The feeling dissipated almost as quickly as it arose. She heard a soft zapping sound and again, current ripped through her in a second. Yelling out loud, she latched onto that sensation of a thread and pulled. Her eyes were partially closed from tiredness but there was no mistaking what she saw. In a swift motion, the blade clamoured away from the table and flew into her palm. She felt it solidly in her hand. Power radiated from its hilt, seducing her into its deadly hold. For once, she felt like her old self again – with that strong grip and a give-em-hell attitude.

There was another zapping sound. Zara shrieked and immediately let go of the blade. It fell noisily onto the floor. Then she remembered again where she was – imprisoned and left weak. The man standing near the door came over and picked up the blade carefully while the other one in the room poised a gun to her forehead. Anything to make sure she didn't get out of control, she supposed.

"Good," Toni finally said through the speakers. "Take the sword away, fellas."

Following her instruction, they removed the archangel blade from the room. Soon enough, her escorts came and unbound her wrists. She staggered a few steps forward and then, everything began to get blurry. As much as she tried to stay on her two feet, her head reeled and she watched helplessly as she fell forwards. The next few moments were unclear. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Things changed around her. There were voices talking in fast sentences, some loud, some soft. She could not focus on what they were saying. A man in a white lab coat. Dr Berg. His words seemed… they seemed… angry. What were they fighting about? Zara wondered. And then it all faded to black.


	59. Three Angels, Two Hunters and A Demon

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter contains scenes from Goodbye Stranger.

 **Chapter 59: Three Angels, Two Hunters and A Demon**

 _ **Raziel's office, New York – 7 January 2012, 10.40am**_

"Castiel seems to be on some kind of rampage," Dinah reported. "Loads of demon-killings."

"Doing his Heavenly duties, I see," Raziel sighed as he taped another cardboard box. His apartment was full of them now. A kind of tiredness dragged his muscles as he moved onto the pile of folders on the table and began packing them into a cardboard box. "What does it have to do with anything?" he nonchalantly shrugged.

"Wha- _Raz_!" Dinah fumed. Raziel paused mid-packing and turned to look at her. Her Maybelline-lined eyes frowned deeply and her head tilted in confusion. Her boss simply stared, equally dazed and confused. There were huge bags under his eyes like he'd drunk himself to… well, drunkenness, which had to be a kind of milestone for any angel. It was evident that he wasn't what he normally was that day. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers for God's sake. "You said Naomi's sending him after the tablets. Whatever he's doing now… he's after the tablets! You know, the ones _we're supposed to find_?"

"Alright," he answered, before getting back to packing.

"Alright? _Alright?_ " she exclaimed.

"What else do you want me to say?" he asked, squinting at a label on a folder and flipping through it to remind himself what was inside.

"How about an order? What should we do about it?" she flustered.

"I don't know," he shrugged again. "Leave him be? If he finds it, it'll be good for all of us."

"Not really!" she snapped. "What do you think Naomi is going to do with the tablets? With all of their untold power?" Seeing as what she was saying seemed to make no effect on him, she released a deep sigh. "What's gotten into you Raz? Is something wrong? Why are you sulking? More than usual, I mean. And why are you even moving? You never told us why."

"Because this place has been compromised," he explained, only bothering to answer her last question. Though he probably should have, he didn't tell anyone about Jeremiah's passing. How he'd discovered a bloody, mutilated corpse hanging from his ceiling. How he'd spent hours mopping up the blood and scrubbing away the stains from the floor. How he'd buried a good angel and let nature use his decaying celestial energy to spring new life. It just seemed too much to utter the words from his mouth. And it was his burden to bear. His alone.

"By who?" she probed when he didn't answer.

"You know who," he simply said. "I need a new office. Preferably one where there are no people for miles." _No living things to grieve over when they perish._ Then his head lifted like he got a new idea. "Maybe I should borrow Sophia's place. Do you think she'll mind?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask her?" Dinah droned. "Oh wait, you can't. Because she's gone. Which means she can't answer us, can't help us and she sure as Hell can't keep the tablets away from Naomi!" Impatient, Dinah grabbed the folder away from him, forcing him to look at her. "We need you, Raz."

"Do the others know that?" he lamented. "I don't think they'll want to listen to what I have to say right now."

"What, because of what Shemsiel said?" Dinah argued. "Well, fuck him. If we all stopped working every time he fucked up, the universe would be in shambles. Point is, fuck that guy. He doesn't know what it's like to be you and do what _you_ do. You're the angel of fuckin' mysteries. He'll come around. So will the others. But right now we have a situation that needs dealing with."

Raziel cast her a relenting side-eye. "Fine," he accepted. "Get the others- Wait, give me 5. I should probably get into some proper clothes."

Later, Raziel stood in front of his team, impeccably dressed in a copper-brown coat with a black suit underneath, though the stench of last night's whiskey still hung around him like a thick cloud. "So… tablets," he drawled slightly. "Do we know which one Castiel's after?"

"The angel tablet," Shemsiel answered, a little too quickly. "So my sources tell me. Crowley's after it as well, which means there is a high chance of our dear friend Castiel running into demonic trouble."

"You got all that from your sources?" Pahaliah turned a sceptical gaze towards him.

"Well I've had to get more proactive, since 'proactive' is a thing we're all doing now," he quipped, craning his neck toward her. He still seemed salty about the whole thing with Raziel.

"Alright," Raziel cut off the glares between them. "Where is Castiel headed?"

"The last report placed him in Lincoln Springs, Missouri," Pahaliah reported. "Last night."

"Then time is of the essence," their leader concluded. "Do we know what exactly he's after? What are his leads?"

"Oh get this," Shemsiel began with mock excitement. " _Lucifer's_ crypts. Who woulda thunk it…"

"I guess that makes sense," Dinah said. Everyone slowly turned to her, awaiting her insight. "I mean, nobody would expect Satan of all people to be guarding one of Heaven's most important documents."

"Yeah, but is he really guarding them? If demons can point an angel in their direction, it doesn't sound very much like he cares about what happens to them," Pahaliah inferred. "Why would Sophia allow this?"

"We don't know that she did," Rahab answered.

"Anyway, that's enough of guessing who did what," Raziel ended the discussion. "We have to move in on him. Stop him from reaching the crypt. But if he does reach the crypt, you know what to do." They were all thinking the same thing. "Find out what the hell Lucifer keeps in his crypts. I've always wondered."

"Yeah," Rahab agreed. They all shared a brief chuckle over that one.

"We should definitely get on that, but I would like to introduce one more lead," Shemsiel interjected. "This is about the vessel, Zara Joshi. We may have something."

"Don't keep us waiting," Dinah urged.

"Clarksburg, West Virginia. A few missing people. _Many_ dead people," he succinctly stated. "CCTV footage from a local pub shows our favourite human working the night shift before… things go South."

"South how?" Raziel probed.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Footage cuts out before we get to see what happens. But intel promises death, gore and glory. You guys go on ahead and get that tablet. I'll work this one alone," he suggested.

"This sounds important," Raziel considered. "Why don't we split up? Dinah and Shemsiel, work on getting Zara. Pahaliah and Rahab, you both get to Castiel and try to talk some sense into him. And I'll…" he looked around his apartment, at all the stacked boxes and empty shelves. "I need to get all of this sorted out."

* * *

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 7 January 2012, 11.06am**_

Reluctantly, Shemsiel stepped onto the gravel in broad daylight with his partner, Dinah. He'd hoped Raziel would let him do this on his own, which would have been convenient as Naomi would want updates. Regardless, he probably would work better with Dinah helping him. They'd always been good as partners. Being the quirkier members of the team, they understood each other much better than the others. With Shemsiel being a chronically casual dresser with a contrastingly posh British accent and Dinah knowing the ins and outs of goth-punk fashion, the two made a great pair. It was a great friendship they had. They used to talk to each other about the most personal things – like how Shemsiel felt when the love of his life had gone on to join Sophia in the angelic rebellion and subsequently got killed. Some wounds were difficult to heal but they'd been there for each other when things got tough. Most importantly, they had honesty. Honesty above all else was the cornerstone of their friendship. Which was why Dinah had the sneaking feeling that her best friend was hiding something. She kept a suspicious gaze on Shemsiel as he scanned the buildings around them.

"Hey, Shems, are you… okay?" she asked through cherry lips adorned with a single piercing on her lower lip.

"Yeah… why wouldn't I be?" he gave her a confident grin. "Nice new haircut, by the way. Suits you much better."

"Yeah, Mohawks are so last decade anyway," she smiled, running a hand through her stark black pixie cut. It made her bubbly cheeks stand out more and brought out her dark brown eyes. She followed him as he led them down the street in a direction he seemed sure of. "But I'm really asking. You seemed a little upset over Raziel's solo mission. I mean, we all were but you… you seemed just as pissed when Sophia… you know…"

Shemsiel let out an exhale, shaking his head in a tired disappointment. "It's just what I get for trusting leaders too much…" he grumbled.

"He was doing the right thing," Dinah tried convincing him. "Of course it was wrong for him to go off on his own, but ultimately he stopped something huge. You have to forgive him."

"I know, I know," he relented. The clouds shifted a little and a beam of sunlight showered them in its warm embrace, its light glinting off of Shemsiel's frosted tips. "I know he did more good than he ever did wrong but what he did to us was simply unacceptable. Raz is… going down the wrong path. He's not thinking straight anymore. All that he seems to be caring about is our reputation and image. It probably doesn't seem that bad now because he's winning, but it's only a matter of time before Naomi defeats him again and who knows what'll happen then?"

"Now you're just catastrophizing," Dinah lamented as they came upon an apartment building. "Where are we heading anyway?"

"Here," Shemsiel gestured towards the building. "It's where Zara stayed while she was here."

"How do you even know that?" Dinah shot him a puzzled glare.

"Because," he looked up to a seemingly arbitrary floor. Within a fraction of a second, they were both standing in the hallway outside a single white door. "This is the only apartment that is warded in town. Our girl knows a thing or two about keeping us away, it seems."

"Shocker," Dinah raised her eyebrows sarcastically.

"Hey, it's not an easy conclusion," he rebutted. "Who would've thought that Sophia taught her a few things?"

"If you were one of the most hated archangels, you would want your vessel to be out of anyone's reach too," Dinah explained. "Simple."

"Alright, _smartass_ ," he muttered under his breath. "So how should we do this?"

"Hm." She paused, sensing the warding and their general locations around the apartment. "Warding seems simple enough. We could crack it if we time this right."

With that, they both assumed positions at opposing ends of the apartment. Shemsiel hovered around the North end while Dinah took the South. Undoing the warding was a bit like cracking a code or solving a puzzle. It required intricate knowledge of how sigils worked and skill in directing energy into all the right places. It wasn't an easy task and it grew difficult depending on the complexity of the sigils used. Some sigils were impossible to crack but luckily, Zara had but a rudimentary understanding of sigil-work. There couldn't have been enough time for Sophia to give her a whole course on sigil-making and warding. With a coordinated burst of energy, the two angels managed to break the warding. Victorious, they both appeared in the living room and shared a triumphant chuckle.

"Hey, we still got it," Shemsiel said, standing with his hands on his hips.

"And you complained all those times back in Heaven that sigil-breaking would be useless," Dinah teased.

"Well, yeah," he huffed defiantly. "Sophia just had us breaking sigils for days on end. It got tiring!"

"Oh boo hoo, did you think you were gonna get plenty of rest in the infantry?" she reminded him. Angels were all trained as soldiers first and foremost, under Michael and Lucifer. In fact, that was how Dinah and Shemsiel had met in the first place. They'd been in the same garrison. "Did you think General Grumpy was gonna hold your hand and tell you ' _oh Shemsiel, just a little more. I know you can do it!_ '" she mocked. General Grumpy was what they called their commanding officer, Sabrathan. The guy was uptight and annoyingly strict to these two, especially since they seemed to go against their natural angelic instincts to obey every word of their superiors. It had gotten them in trouble a few times, only when they'd been careless enough to get caught doing whatever it is they did to pass the time in Heaven.

"Only if he wanted me to blow him," Shemsiel quipped, giving her a suggestive raise of the eyebrows. "And you know, maybe he did."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would have done a great job at pulling the stick out of his ass," Dinah replied. "And putting another one in it."

"What can I say, I'm an angel of many talents," he bragged, puffing up his chest.

They both split up and searched the apartment. Everything seemed just as a home should be, which was odd considering its occupant had been missing for at least two months. No huge mess, no broken glass. Perhaps it made sense because demons and angels couldn't have gotten in with the warding in place. Shemsiel pulled open the fridge door and immediately grimaced at the smell. The food had all gone bad by now. Abandoning the fridge, he searched the cabinets. More food, some vodka and more alcohol. All signs of a drinking problem.

"Hey, I got something," Dinah called out from the bedroom. When Shemsiel entered, he found her standing in front of an open closet door. Here, finally, were signs of Zara probably leaving in a hurry. Hangers strewn about on the floor, clothes hanging about in cascades. What was more interesting was the presence of men's clothes and shoes too large for a 5' 6" woman to be wearing. "She was with someone. Huh."

"That is the more charitable explanation for the amount of alcohol in the kitchen," he added. They looked again around the room. Shemsiel pulled open a drawer and held up a pack of tablets. "Contraception. Expected."

"Wonder what Sophia would think of that," Dinah thought out loud. "Hey, do you think Lucifer would get jealous if his girlfriend's vessel was fooling around with other men?"

Shemsiel's face contorted with a confused frown. "That would be absurd," he immediately said, and then paused as if to seriously consider the proposition. Then, shaking his head, he simply said, "Get back to work, Dinah."

Inspecting every inch of the house, it made a lot of sense that Zara was not alone. Suddenly it made the place seem lonelier than it already was. All these signs of cohabitation, of two people who were in an intimate relationship. All the ghosts of memories that haunted this place. Yet it told nothing of the mysterious girl who lived here. Was she happy? Was she sad? Why did she stay here of all places, isolated from the world and presumably her family? What kind of person was she? Who was she here with? As if to answer the last question, Shemsiel's avid gaze found something white sticking out from under the dresser. Kneeling down, he picked it up. It was a polaroid. "I think I know who she was rooming with," he announced, passing the photo to Dinah. In the polaroid was a happy, smiling Zara, her body pressed against Nick's chest. They held each other close and Nick was kissing her forehead.

"Is that…?" Dinah trailed off.

"Yeah," Shemsiel simply said. "Now we know why Lucifer never showed up in this one."

"But how did they even find each other?"

"I don't know. Vessel telepathy? If that's even a thing," Shemsiel speculated.

"So our girl hits town, hooks up with Lucifer's vessel here and then trouble hits so they both pack up and leave," Dinah postulated, trying to put things together. "Two questions: What happened, and where did they go?"

"There was a shooting at the local pub where she worked. Up to 30 dead," Shemsiel informed her.

"God," Dinah muttered. "30 dead? That's kind of a big deal. Where were the news reports on this?"

"There weren't any," he frowned. "That means someone big did this. Someone with the power to control what people can and cannot know. Someone who would want an archangel's vessel. Or two, perhaps."

"Naomi?" Dinah inferred. "Heard she's been moving in on cable TV. Especially the televangelists."

"No, not Naomi," Shemsiel dismissed. "If she had Zara, she'd have all the tablets by now." _And she wouldn't have been so surprised when I mentioned it to her,_ he thought.

"Yeah, but what if the vessel kept her mouth shut like she's supposed to? She's gotta be loyal to Sophia, right? Maybe Naomi's torturing her right now," Dinah reasoned.

"My money's on Crowley, darling," Shemsiel stated. "He's got motive for revenge. And he certainly wouldn't mind massacring a bunch of people just to get what he wants."

"And Naomi would?" Dinah still seemed puzzled. "How can you be so sure?"

"Call it a leap of faith," he shrugged. Then his lips curved into a sly smile. "I'll bet a hundred."

"Make it two hundred for me," she reciprocated the gesture, folding her arms in playful confidence.

"Guess I'll be shaking your hand with a new $300 watch, then."

"So what's next? Head down to the pub?" she suggested.

"I'm not sure what we could possibly expect to find there," he dismissed nonchalantly. "It's obvious that she must have fled from the scene, come back here, packed up her things and skipped town. We need to track her route of escape."

Dinah wasn't so sure about that. "But we should investigate _every_ lead," she argued. "And according to you, it isn't even clear what went down in the pub!"

"Like I said, if Crowley was involved, it was demons," he stated conclusively. "We don't need to waste any more time on this."

"It's not a waste of time. Our job is to be _sure_." Dinah didn't know what he hoped to achieve by being so hasty. It didn't strike her as something he'd normally do. He was generally a meticulous person. "Hey, what's been up with you lately?"

"What?" He jerked his head towards her, earnestly not expecting that response. His heart skipped a beat, anticipating an avalanche of interrogative questions that he wasn't sure he could answer. "What're you talking about?"

"And don't say nothing because I _know_ you're lying," she gave him a definite glare, confirming his worry. "You've been acting weird lately. What are you not telling me?"

"Dinah-" He stuttered a bit, unable to find the words. "I don't know what to tell you. You're misreading this."

"Am I really? Where did you get this lead on Zara, Shems? We've been at it for months without a hit and then you just bring it up out of nowhere," she probed, folding her arms.

"Is that really unusual?" he asked, reciprocating her increasingly cynical tone. "This is what happens in our line of work. Sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don't."

"Then tell me how you found this place," she demanded. When he hesitated, the worst possibilities came to mind. Even then, Dinah realised that if she wanted to get the truth from him, she would have to be more understanding. After all, he was her friend and deserved the benefit of the doubt. "I'm your partner," she began with a gentler tone. "Level with me, alright? I _need_ to know if we're going to work on shady leads."

Shemsiel's gaze softened. He saw in front of him two options: lie to his best friend and concoct a story about interrogating demons, or tell her the truth that he'd struck a deal with Naomi. The first would have been easier – he could corroborate his story with the fact the demons had actually been involved and that he'd followed a hunch. She'd never know the truth. But if she did… he'd never be able to make up for it. Honesty was sacred between them. And he remembered that it was principle that motivated him to do what he did anyway – and spite for Raziel's violation of those principles in pursuit of a short-term success – so there really wasn't any point in starting to lie now. "Alright," he sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Dinah sat next to him, eyeing him warily as he rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. "You're not going to like this."

"Let's hear it," she nervously urged him to continue.

"It's Naomi," he spat out. "She's offered to help."

Dinah froze in her seat. She hadn't expected _that_ of all things. "In exchange for what?"

"She just… she asked me to let her know when we're close to finding the tablet and/or Zara," he said.

"Jesus," Dinah put a hand to her forehead as she contemplated the full implications of what he was saying. "You mean to tell me… that after all we've done, you're just going to hand over the tablet to Naomi? And how did she know about Zara?" Shemsiel's silence was answer enough. "You told her, didn't you? God, Shemsiel, what have you done?"

"It's the only way," he weakly rebutted. "We don't have a lot of time left. If Crowley has Zara, he'll have everything. With Naomi's help we can work faster. It doesn't matter who gets the tablet first, or that she knows about Zara. We have to do what is right for Heaven."

"At what cost?" Dinah shot back. "When Naomi gets her hands on the tablet, she'll put us all in labour camps and wipe our minds, just like she did with the angels in the Quartum fields. We _cannot_ trust her!" Her breaths grew deep as she tried her best not to give into an outburst of anger, though she was failing at it. "And Zara… what do you think Naomi will do to her? Sophia entrusted _us_ to take care of her vessel and now- now you've put her in Naomi's sights."

"I won't let it get to that," Shemsiel vowed. "I'll have it under control." He chanced a peek at her and saw a mixture of fury and concern in his partner's eyes. But so far, she was handling it much better than he'd expected. And he'd expected a sore pain in his upper arm or even a black eye by now. What she said, however, did give him perspective. He was suddenly confronted with the notion that keeping this secret to himself may have led him to eventual failure and possibly death. Perhaps it was foolish to do this all by himself. "But you're right. We can't trust Naomi. I need your help."

"You got a lot of balls asking me to help clean up your mess," Dinah defiantly folded her arms.

"Please, Dinah. I'm trying to do the right thing," he pleaded. "Help me make this right. We have what we need to find Zara. Let's find her and keep her safe from Naomi and Crowley. I can't do this without you."

Silence fell between them. Dinah cursed under her breath. "You owe me one," she sharply uttered.

"Gladly," he sighed in relief. "You can't tell the others."

"Not until we find Zara," she glared at him. His smile quickly faded. He didn't like it, but it was her choice and he respected it. And he probably deserved it too.

* * *

 _ **Lincoln Springs, Missouri – 7 January 2012, 11.26am**_

Pahaliah kept her eyes out for the brown trench-coated angel. Her vision darted around nervously and her long, straight brown hair bobbed around with it. She fiddled her thumbs as she surveyed the suburb before her. She almost gasped loudly as a hand rested against the small of her back. "Relax, _mi amada,_ " Rahab appeared alongside her.

"Oh, it's you," Pahaliah broke out into a smile. The sight of him warmed her heart. Suddenly she felt a lot better.

"So, do we know what we're looking for?" the large, olive-skinned stud asked.

"A trail of demons," she stated. They both took to the sky to get an aerial view of the place. "The demon King must be well-aware of the many dead in this area. He would have sent more to take care of the problem."

They flew around, scanning the houses and roads for anything suspicious. "So uh…" Rahab rubbed the back of his bald but stubbled head. "Are you ready for this?"

"Ready for what?" Pahaliah asked, keeping her gaze on the earth below.

"Seeing him again," he said, a little nervously. "Castiel."

"Huh." Pahaliah huffed. "I'll be alright. But if he tries something, you know I'll be the first to give him what he deserves."

Rahab was slightly unsettled by her demeanour. She wasn't usually like this – stoic with tightened shoulders like she was ready to punch some sense into anyone who upset her. And she wasn't the kind of angel to do that either. It was just… something changed in her ever since the civil war in Heaven. Having moved in together, the both of them had plenty of time together for work and each other. While their relationship was alright – more than alright – there were moments like these when he wondered whether she would truly return to the kind, sweet angel that he once knew. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea for Raziel to put us both on this case," Rahab wondered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, folding her arms. "You think we both can't do our jobs just because we have history with Castiel?"

"Not saying that we can't. I'm just worried that in the heat of the moment, we may not be thinking straight about the things that matter," he concerned.

"We, or just me?" She shot a glare at him. "You think I'll just go off on him, is that it? Do you think I'm out of control?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he defended.

"And even if I did, which I won't, tell me he didn't have it coming," she spat out. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same for what he did to us."

"Pahaliah, stop," he beckoned. When she didn't, he sought her hand and they both landed in an empty street corner somewhere. "Do you see this? You're getting upset. This is what I mean. We need to be clear-headed on this."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said unapologetically. "Am I getting too emotional for you? Maybe you should leave me before you regret ever telling me you love me."

She turned to storm away but Rahab simply grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him. Through her brief protests to push him away, he pulled her into a deep kiss and she relented. With a soft moan, she felt her heart calming down, soothed by his willingness to love her even in her state of volcanic fury. Rahab pulled away, though he still held her close and rested his forehead against hers. "I'll never regret," he whispered.

Pahaliah pulled him into a hug, resting her head against his and closing her eyes. She felt like she had all the peace in the world and simply forgot whatever it was that upset her in the first place. She relished the feel of him – his warmth, his tight hold on her, his hypnotising musk. Briefly, her eyes fluttered open. That was when she spotted it. "Winchesters," she muttered.

"What?" Rahab asked, letting her go and setting her gently on the ground.

"There," she pointed somewhere behind him. As he turned, they both saw what looked to be a '67 Chevy Impala parked outside a house. Sudden flashes of bright light came through the window. Some kind of a skirmish was going on. With no time to waste, the two angels hurried into the house. In front of them, the two Winchesters sat on a couch, impeccably dressed in suits while their favourite angel stood in front of them.

"Castiel," Rahab greeted. The Winchesters shot up to their feet, taken by surprise.

"Rahab. Pahaliah," Castiel acknowledged. His arm poised ready to brandish an angel blade in case anything went wrong. "What are you doing here?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Pahaliah answered, keeping her expression neutral as best as she could. She didn't say anything more, wondering if the Winchesters were up to speed with what they were doing. She looked to the Winchesters, remembering what her boss told her about them. "You have nothing to fear. Raziel sent us."

"Right, why should we believe you?" Dean retorted. Being Winchesters, they weren't generally very trusting of angels. Whatever cooperation they'd offered Raziel before was merely circumstantial and due to necessity. So even though they particularly enjoyed watching demons blow up, they remembered to be cautious. In any case, it was Raziel who had proven his worth, not the two angels standing before them. "Why doesn't Raziel come down here himself?"

"Because he's busy. He is a leader and he has many things to deal with, least of all two humans," she said, though she really didn't intend disrespect. It was the truth. "No offence."

"Hm." Dean took note of that. At least they're self-aware, he wryly thought.

"But you do remember us, don't you? We saved y-"

"Duluth, we know," Sam interjected. "We never properly thanked you for that. Still, we don't trust easy. Considering our past experiences with your kind. _No offence_."

"It's alright, Sam," Castiel reassured. Naomi's voice resounded in his head, telling him to let them help him. After all, the deal with Shemsiel meant that Naomi would allow their two teams to work together, even if either of them had ulterior motives. His gaze hesitantly shifted to meet Pahaliah's. "They're telling the truth. They're good angels. Angels who I've wronged in a horrible way. I hope you can both forgive me."

That certainly took Pahaliah by surprise. Here she'd envisioned this conversation to go down a lot differently, with more outrage and arguing about intentions. She looked to Rahab, who frowned slightly before letting up. "We didn't come here to forgive anyone," he began, keeping his voice calm and steady. "We have a job to do."

"We were sent to aid your efforts," Pahaliah informed him. It wasn't entirely true, but he didn't need to know that.

"Very well," Castiel nodded. He addressed everyone in the room. "The other demon escaped. I bound the one I caught in a devil's trap. I'm gonna interrogate it now."

"Wait a second, Cas," Sam halted him. "How about you answer some questions first? Like, where the hell have you been?"

Pahaliah averted her eyes, sensing discomfort rising in the room. It seemed they had come in during a personal conversation.

"You heard me, didn't you?" Dean asked.

"You prayed to him?" Sam looked to his brother, surprised. Dean returned an affirmative head tilt.

"Yes, I heard you. But that's not why I'm here," Castiel took a seat opposite them, sighing. It was almost touching, seeing that the unbeatable Castiel held himself accountable to two humans, albeit inconsistently. But then again, what did he have to gain from this? "I've been hunting demons."

"So this is you," Sam understood. "Why?"

"I've been tracking Crowley's trail," Castiel explained, keeping his intentions vague. A purposeful tactic, the other angels supposed.

"Wait," Sam straightened up, forehead creasing into a frown. "Crowley's alive? You're sure?"

"We can confirm," Pahaliah interjected. "The demon King is wounded, but he is very much alive."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "I've been trying to undermine another of Crowley's operations. Similar to the one you helped Raziel with"

"Without us?" Dean inquired.

"I've been trying to help, Dean. And in my search, I uncovered that Crowley has sent out demons to find Lucifer's crypts."

"Lucifer had crypts?" Sam and Dean exchanged a puzzled look.

"Dozens of them, apparently," the angel said.

"It's news to us too, _amigos_ ," Rahab chimed in. "But that's where the hype's at, apparently."

"But why the storage wars?" Sam asked. "I mean, what the hell are they all looking for?"

Castiel wryly glanced at Pahaliah and Rahab. Pahaliah gave him a small nod, as though encouraging him to tell them whatever it was he was inclined to tell them. Clearly, they'd anticipated that he wouldn't be fully transparent with the Winchesters. He _was_ working for Naomi, according to what Raziel had recounted to them after his solo mission. Yet, they hadn't quite expected him to be so… accommodating of their presence. Whatever it was that changed Castiel after the encounter with Raziel, they were grateful for it. "They're looking for a parchment that would allow them to decipher the Word of God tablets without a prophet," Castiel lied.

"A Heavenly decoder ring? In Crowley's hands? Awesome," Dean lamented. "It's a miracle that he hasn't found any of the other tablets, huh?" _Yes… a miracle,_ Pahaliah thought. That's one word for Lucifer's involvement in all of this.

"The crypts were, uh, lost over time. Only those closest to Lucifer knew their whereabouts," Castiel recalled. The other two angels felt a tinge of disappointment at that. This lack of security on Lucifer's part, trusting a bunch of demons with his secrets – surely he knew better than that? They couldn't imagine that this would have sat well with Sophia.

"Then how did Crowley find them?" Sam posed.

"His demons have been possessing locals who may have some special knowledge," Castiel reported.

"That would explain the crazy room at Ann's house," Sam inferred. "But how did they know where to start looking in the first place?"

"That is a _great_ question," Pahaliah said, rueing to think about what else Crowley must have done on top of torturing Samandriel to get this far.

"I don't know," Castiel replied honestly. "I'm hoping the strange-haired demon in the kitchen is more knowledgeable than the others I interrogated." With that, he rigidly got up and entered the kitchen. Perking up, Pahaliah gave Rahab a knowing nod and he followed Castiel, wanting to keep an eye on the interrogation while Pahaliah remained with the Winchesters momentarily.

"Raziel told us of your instrumental aid in helping him stop the Quartum delivery," she said to them. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, making demons explode was a rare opportunity that we couldn't pass up," Dean shrugged it off. "Especially if it meant signing Crowley's expiration date."

"The last time we talked with Raziel," Sam began. "He said the angels were hunting him. What happened?"

"He was being framed," Pahaliah replied, though she knew it was only half-true. Raziel _did_ kill those angels and no one was proud of that, least of all Raziel. But the urgency and hostility of the angel-hunt was all perpetuated by Naomi. "But things have been resolved now. Because of what he did, with your help, hundreds of angels were saved that night."

Sam nodded, his throat muscles contorting as he gulped. That was good and all, but there was still one problem. "What about Cas?" he asked with a lowered voice. "Is he…"

Pahaliah beckoned him to stop. "We'll talk about this later," she spoke in a hushed tone. "Away from _him_."

Later, in the kitchen, they all stood ominously around the demon, with the angels closer to her to inspire fear and the Winchesters on the other end of the table, observing. The demon's wrists were bound to the table and she was sat on a chair caught in a devil's trap.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," the demon snarled, displaying her evil black eyes. She suddenly broke out in a controlled chuckle, pretending that she wasn't scared to the bone by the three mighty celestial beings in the room and the two notorious brothers who bested Lucifer. "Oh, the thoughts she had about you two. Mostly you, Sam. What can I say? She has a thing for smutton chops."

Dean leaned forward, beginning, "Alright, you douchebag, listen-"

His interrogation was cut short by Castiel, who promptly drove his blade through the back of the demon's palm, laid out temptingly on the table as a target of torture. The other two angels flinched, taken aback by his swiftness. Though they knew torture was part of the job, they tried to avoid it as much as they could and it still unsettled them, no matter how many times they'd seen it happen. But seeing as Castiel was taking the lead on this one, they remained silent, letting him do his thing.

The demon screamed, pain exploding in her wrist as Castiel pulled out the blade and left the demon's spirit to burn under her wounded wrist.

"Who told you about the crypts?" Castiel pulled back the demon's head by the curlers, demanding his answers.

"I thought angels were supposed to be the good cops!" the demon protested. With no semblance of mercy, Castiel drove the blade through the back of her other palm, sparing the abomination no relief. The demon's cries of agony pierced the air as sparks erupted under her skin. "Wait! Stop! Stop!" she begged. "We have a hostage!" Castiel paused, allowing the demon to catch her breath. "It's one of Crowley's pets. She's at the Murray Hotel, down by the interstate. She knows the towns where all the crypts are buried. She saw them all back in the day."

"And she told you about the parchment?" Sam asked. _Uh oh._ The lie was unravelling.

"What parchment?!" the demon flustered.

"Hey. Hey! Think he's the only bad cop in this room?" Dean angrily yelled. "Stop lying! We know what you're really looking for."

Pahaliah straightened up from her position leaning against the wall, hoping Castiel would do something quickly before the demon spilled the truth. "No. I am telling you, we're looking for-"

Just as she'd hoped, Castiel plunged the blade deep into the demon's chest, killing it.

"Cas! What the hell was that?!" Sam exclaimed.

"It told us what we needed," the angel replied monotonously.

"No, she didn't! You can't just-"

"Yes, he can," Pahaliah cut off his protests. "You boys may not know it, but we're kind of in a time crunch. Crowley's already way ahead of us. We should get to the hotel now."

"Hold on a second-" Sam demanded. Once again, his voice was cut off by the fluttering of wings. The boys flinched. They were standing alone in the kitchen. "Cas!"

"Damn it!" Dean rushed out the door, his brother following suit.

When the boys finally got to their destination, there was nothing but the sound of grunts and stabs as well as bright angelic light coming from the room obviously intended for Crowley's hostage. Before Castiel could have a chance to thank his companions for going along with his lie, the hotel room door swung open with the force of a Winchester's kick, revealing the disenchanted brothers.

"Thanks for waiting," Sam huffed, panting to catch his breath.

"The hostage is in there," Castiel pointed towards an unopened door. Cautiously, Dean made his way to the door and twisted the nod, revealing a familiar face. There she was, cuffed on the floor and sporting a variety of bruises and assaults on her body – Meg.

"Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?" the demon snarked, lips curving into a smile of untold relief. Rahab moved to undo her cuffs and help her to the couch in the living room. "New friends, Cas? Didn't take you to be the social type. Mm, this one's stocky. Can I keep him?" Meg's gaze was caught by Pahaliah's glare as she sat. She looked between the two angels, slightly amused. "You're both steady… Not the typical feather ensemble, are you?"

"They're helping us," Sam informed her.

"Hm." Meg suppressed a smirk. "I've been gone for… how long? And in that time, Crowley's been torturing me, Lucifer is trapped at the bottom of the ocean and you boys are trusting angels other than Cas? Next thing you're gonna tell me is that the sun's setting in the east."

"Evil is a great unifier," Castiel said, while the others settled in comfortably.

"So, I got to ask. Um..." Dean began. He did a vague gesture with his hand. "What's up with the hair?" Sam shot him a bored look. "What?"

"Aww. Thanks for noticing, Dean. But this wasn't my idea. It was Crowley's. And it's just another reason I want to stab him in the face," Meg drawled in her slow, sinister voice.

"Wait a second. You've been telling Crowley the location of Lucifer's crypts," Sam inferred.

"What can I say? I needed a break from the constant torture," she confessed. "And I did visit them all during my time with Yellow Eyes, and then again when our beloved Queen needed something done. But don't worry. I haven't exactly been giving them the Glengarry leads."

"You mean you've been lying to them?" Castiel clarified.

"I just get them in the ballpark. Enough time's passed and enough's changed that they bought it," she elaborated.

"Why lie?" Dean asked.

"Buy myself some time, dummy. Try to find a way to get free."

"Wait," Sam interjected. "So... a bunch of innocent people died so you could... buy yourself some time?"

Meg suppressed rolling her eyes. "Hi. I'm Meg. I'm a demon."

"Hold on a second," Rahab spoke up. "What do you mean… your Queen needed something done? You're talking about Sophia?" He exchanged a concerned look with Pahaliah.

"Yeah… _her_ ," she replied, eyes widening and contracting with an awful reminder of her last experience with the monarch. "She tried to kill me just because I showed up when my _King_ , Lucifer, called us to help _her_. But maybe also because I was hitting on her vessel." Dean raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to make of that. "What? There ain't nothing with an ass like _that_ in Hell!"

"Alright," Pahaliah was visibly impatient. "What did Sophia need help with?"

"Oh this is an interesting story. It's the root of all of… _this_ ," Meg began. "She just storms in one day and asks Lucifer for help. Says she needs to hide something. She wouldn't tell him what. So we all go with him to the crypt and when she finally shows up, there it is…" Castiel seemed to be getting uncomfortable. Meg was going to tell them. But Naomi reassured him that it would be best to go along with it. "… the angel tablet. From what I saw that day, _Mother Dearest_ wasn't too happy about us being there. Then it's all rumours but it's said that she put a hit on every demon who ever came with Lucifer that night, just to protect the location of the tablet. Which is why _yours truly_ has been on the run ever since."

So there it was. The truth was out. The truth behind why they hadn't been successful in retrieving all the tablets. It wasn't that their calculations were wrong. Sophia had been cautious. She'd tried to protect the tablet from discovery, only this sole surviving demon had lived to undermine her decision.

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised looks. "Wait a second. Did you just say 'Angel Tablet'?" Sam pointed out.

"You know, I get why Crowley calls you 'moose' now," Meg retorted, amused by his look of total confusion. "Yes, Angel Tablet. Crowley found out Lucifer had it, figures it's stashed in a crypt."

Castiel averted his gaze. "Well, this is news to me, as well. Demons I interrogated, they must have been lying about their true intentions," he lied again.

"Really?" Dean pressed. "'Cause I saw you Zero Dark Thirty that demon. You were more than persuasive."

"You're both missing the point," Meg interjected. "I lied to them, which means they're digging in the wrong place. But not for long. They'll be back here soon. So, who's up for fleeing?"

"She's right," Sam said, straightening up. "We need to find those crypts before they do. Meg, you're the only one who's been there."

"Help us get there before Crowley," Pahaliah requested.

Meg did a little smirk. "Three angels, two hunters and a demon. Sounds like a grand ol' time."


	60. Breaking The Chains

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter contains scenes from Goodbye Stranger.

* * *

 **Chapter 60: Breaking The Chains**

 _ **Clarksburg, West Virginia – 7 January 2012, 11.06am**_

"Yes, ma'am, I understand your grievances- I really do," Shemsiel nodded his head in passive assent. He stood outside the door to another apartment next to Zara's, dressed impeccably in a formal suit. After much debate, he and Dinah had decided to split up. He would interview the neighbours while Dinah checked out the pub. With all her facial piercings, Dinah would never pass for a government official so naturally, the role had fallen to Shemsiel.

"These young people… they don't even take a break!" An elderly woman wagged a finger at him. "They did it in the morning, they did it in the evening and sometimes even in the middle of the night! Tell me sonny, is it something in the water?"

"I- I don't know," the angel shrugged, somewhat uncomfortably. "Mrs Zimmerman, did you happen to notice anything weird on the night of the first of November at around midnight?"

"Oh I always go to bed by 8, sweetie," the petite lady answered. She squinted at him through her thick-rimmed glasses, trying to get a better look at him. "Unless of course those two in the next apartment are fucking like rabbits in the night!"

Shemsiel flinched, admittedly made nervous by her sharp tone. He cleared his throat. "So you didn't… _hear_ anything that night?"

"Hey," a deep masculine tone called out from his right. Shemsiel turned to find a rather large man approaching him with a frown-riddled expression. "Who are you and what do you want with my Nana?"

"Oh it's nothing, darling," the elderly woman dismissed with the wave of her hand. "This young fella here is with the cops."

"The Feds, actually. Special Agent Drakos," Shemsiel held up a fake badge.

"The Bureau allow you to have fancy hair like that?" the young man probed, still sceptically scanning his badge. Shemsiel became self-conscious about his frosted tips but more importantly, he noticed that the man had an alluringly square jaw with a well-kept stubble which just begged his attention. So much so that he almost didn't respond to the man's question.

"It's all part of the civilian disguise… uh-"

"David," the young man introduced himself and they shook hands. Their gazes met and persisted perhaps for a while longer than necessary.

"I'm here to investigate the disappearance of your missing neighbours who lived in the flat next to your lovely grandmother," he gestured with his head towards the apartment.

"What do the feds want with them? Are they like mafia or something?" David asked, still wearing a concerned expression.

"Or something," Shemsiel said.

"I always knew something was up with that guy," David grumbled.

"Do you- do you happen to know them? Do you live here?"

"No, and no. I visit Nana twice a week. I'm just speaking from what I've seen of the guy. First time I saw him I didn't even notice him standing in the elevator next to me. He was just standing there all quiet like some kind of creep and when he walked he barely made any noise. Guy gave out serious American Psycho vibes," David recalled, face grimacing. His gaze grew distant as he tried to remember as much as he could about Nick. "His eyes always stared straight ahead when he walked, like some kind of robot." He gasped. "Was it- Was it some kind of MK Ultra thing?" he whispered, eyebrows wildly contorting in what appeared to be genuine curiosity.

"What? No," Shemsiel denied. His gaze flickered between grandmother and grandson, wondering where they got their shared interest in conspiracies from. "What about the girl? What can you tell me about her?"

"She moved in with him like a few months ago. And poor Nana hasn't been able to enjoy morning cable ever since," he released a deep sigh, staring affectionately at the old woman.

"I keep telling him to woo the girl and steal her from that man. Maybe then we'd have a solution for the noise problem," Mrs Zimmerman eyed her grandson expectantly. "I mean look at him. David here could get any girl he wants," she proudly boasted.

"Nana, please," he awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his dark curly hair with a hand. "I'm too busy with work to be dating girls." He locked eyes with Shemsiel again and the angel's lips curved up into a little smile. He knew that look. _Too busy for girls, eh?_ Such an odd place to find an… _opportunity_ like this, he thought.

"Yet you always have time for this old girl," the elderly woman grumbled, albeit giving in to a smile herself.

"I saw the girl once in the pub. The one that closed down recently because… you know," David suddenly remembered. "She was a singer. And a really good one too." His expression grew solemn. "It's so sad to think that such a lively place just turned to nothing overnight."

Shemsiel's eyes softened. "And all those people…" He let a silent moment pass as a sign of courtesy. "Anyway, thank you both for your time. If there is anything else at all you can remember, please call me." He took out a business card and used a pen to scribble something on the back.

"What's that?" David asked.

"My personal number," Shemsiel handed him the card and gave him a wink before putting his aviators on. "In case, you know… you're too busy for girls."

Thanking them, he took his leave and dialled his partner. "Just interrogated the neighbours. They don't know anything," he admitted disappointedly. "On the bright side, I think I'm gonna learn more about government conspiracies in my spare time."

" _What?"_ Dinah was evidently confused. _"Okay, whatever. Anyway, you should be glad I talked you into letting me investigate the pub. Unlike you, I actually got something."_

Within a heartbeat, Shemsiel flew to the pub, joining her as she stood in front of a floral shrine set up on the street outside the building. Messages of condolences were slotted in with the assortment of flowers arranged neatly around the picture of a heavily-bearded man. "Ugh," Dinah scoffed as soon as she saw him, standing in his well-fitting suit. She wasn't used to seeing him in anything other than tank tops and beach shorts. "You look like a douchebag."

"Gee thanks, but it's human protocol or whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I feel like a dressed-up whore." He studied the shrine, taking a moment to observe its array of messages. "So what d'you got?"

"It's a shrine for the owner of the pub, Cecil Langerman. But take a look at the messages. One of these is not like the other," she gestured towards the cards slotted in among the flowers.

Shemsiel knelt down to get a closer look. His keen eyes scanned the writings and eventually rested on one very peculiar card. He picked it up and stood up to read it with Dinah. "This… it's written in code," he read the scribbles of Enochian decorated along the border of a card in black ink while the central message in English read 'Remembered fondly'. To the ordinary eye, it just looked like someone invested effort in making a fancy card. But it was a note for angels, hidden in plain sight. "How is this possible? Only we use Trimarchian code. The five of us. And Sophia, of course."

"We can figure out who wrote it later. Decipher it," Dinah urged. Uncanny though it was, it revealed an important clue.

"11-02-11," Shemsiel decoded one line with a blue ballpoint pen. "37.3662, 81.1026," was the next line. "W-V 20, 1020."

"Just a bunch of numbers," he stared at them, deeply intrigued. "Well _these_ are obviously coordinates," he said, pointing at the second line.

"And that's a date," Dinah inferred about the first line. "The day after Zara went missing."

"What about the last one? W-V 20, 1020? What could that mean?" Shemsiel pondered.

"I'm not sure. But whoever left this here wanted _us_ to find it," an eerie feeling of being watched crept up her back and she looked around them, just in case. Nothing out of ordinary, just some humans walking about as she surveyed the street and buildings.

Of course, she didn't check the rooftop where the young archangel watched them patiently. He'd followed Raziel from Illinois, when the Keeper had come to bury his dead friend. He didn't mean Raziel any harm – he was just curious. After all, remaining hidden away from the world tended to get boring after a while and stalking seemed like a good use of his time. And he was right. If he hadn't followed Raziel and found places to stay hidden in his office, he wouldn't have found out that they were looking for Zara. This was exactly the opportunity he needed. He'd berated himself constantly for not checking in enough to see if she was alright. Just the one night he hadn't… and she was gone. He busied himself, obsessively searching every town near Clarksburg until he found out exactly what happened. Problem was, he couldn't do anything about it.

The British Men of Letters kept her in a highly-warded building and any attempt to rescue her would draw too much attention and God knew he wasn't allowed to do that. The crimson-eyed son had no choice but to longingly stare at the building with a horrible feeling floating around in his chest, not knowing what she was going through in there. He felt lost and helpless, unable to deal with the fact that he couldn't help her. Until that day, when he eavesdropped on the _Nalkam_ and found out that they were getting on Zara's case. He rushed home and flipped open one of Sophia's books that he'd read. It talked about encoding messages and listed many different ways of hiding a message. For once, his nostalgic impulse to connect with her through her writings paid off. He got to work immediately, penning down the message in Trimarchian code, which had several asterisks punctuating the line where the heading was written – it must be important, he'd thought.

The sound of a gecko clicking softly caught his attention. "They're friends, Ser Adler," the archangel told the lizard. More lizard noises ensued. "If only. But I have to stay strong. I have to believe that they'll save her. I have to." The reptile clicked again in assent and crawled from the ledge of the rooftop back onto his shoulder, it's long, thin tail dangling down the archangel's back. His heart beginning to rest easy, though not as much as he would have wanted, he vanished.

"This is… this is so _convenient_ ," Shemsiel frowned. "It seems too good to be true. It could be a trap."

"I don't think we have any other choice but to go with it," Dinah said. "But if it's in Trimarchian… maybe it's Sophia. Maybe she left it here for us to tell us that her vessel is in danger and she needs our help to save her."

"Then why wouldn't she go help her herself? Why leave a note here where we could have only stumbled upon it by chance?" he wondered.

"Maybe she can't. I don't know," she answered. Shemsiel and Dinah exchanged a grave look, unsure of what to make of this oddly-situated clue.

* * *

 _ **Lincoln Springs, Missouri – 7 January 2012, 1.03pm**_

Rahab watched curiously as Castiel helped the demon wrap her bodily wounds. Strange, for an angel to be so gentle with a demon. But it got them distance between Castiel and the hunters.

"So…" Dean began in a hushed tone, beckoning with his eyes towards Castiel.

"From what we can tell, Castiel has been working for Naomi and doing her footwork," Pahaliah spoke in a whisper, sitting next to him on the couch.

"Yeah we- we already knew that," Dean said. "Raziel told us."

"It's some kind of mind-control. Castiel isn't exactly… Castiel. It'll be difficult to undo and unfortunately, no one is as knowledgeable on this as Naomi," she explained. "What else did Raziel tell you?"

"That this Naomi is basically Raphael 2.0."

"Basically," she agreed. "And if Castiel finds that angel tablet, it's hers. And we can't let that happen. You can't imagine the power that tablet holds. Especially now that Naomi has the prophet."

"She what?" Dean jerked his head toward her. "But the angel… he said he was taking Kevin back home!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Pahaliah apologised. "You trusted this angel because…?"

"Cas said he was cool," he recalled, and then sighed as if he should have seen this coming. He berated himself for not checking in with Kevin. "We gotta find Kevin."

"We will," she promised. "But as long as Naomi has him, she won't hurt him. She needs him to get what she wants from the tablets. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"So what now?"

"We need Castiel's help to find the angel tablet. But you can't let him take it," Pahaliah suggested. "Raziel will know how to keep it safe."

Dean studied the angel's expression. After all that had happened, he wasn't so sure who to trust and who not to anymore. He couldn't trust Cas, he couldn't trust any angel Cas told him to trust and Raziel… well he wanted to trust the guy but if he'd learnt anything from this conversation it was that he needed to be more careful. He nodded passively as if to agree to what Pahaliah was saying.

Sam approached, busily working on something on his laptop. "Alright, here goes," he clicked a few icons and did his magic with a map. "According to this, Lucifer's crypt has to be underneath an abandoned building."

"Great. We'll have to keep an eye on uh- _Meg-stiel_ over there," Dean told his brother.

From the bedroom, where Castiel was with Meg, the doe-eyed angel looked over Meg's shoulder into the living room, watching with keen suspicion as Dean spoke in whispers to Pahaliah. It couldn't be anything good, he thought. He needed some way to get the other two angels out of the picture. At least that's what Naomi told him. _As soon as you have eyes on the tablet, banish them and bring it to me. Or better yet, kill them._

 _ **A few hours later…**_

"I think we should split up," Rahab suggested. The six of them stood imposingly in front of the shabby building which taunted them with mysteries in the darkness of the night. "Castiel, Dean and I will search the inside. The three of you keep watch in case Crowley sends more of his mooks."

"I think I should come with," Sam protested. It didn't feel right to send his brother in with two angels, one of whom he was sure they couldn't trust.

"Sam, it's alright," Dean insisted. He eyed Pahaliah, giving her a short nod to acknowledge their plan. "Stay here and ward the place."

He wasn't sure why, but Sam had a sinking feeling in his chest like something was going to go horribly wrong. Without a choice, he waited outside with the ladies as his brother disappeared into the building.

"There's a draft," Castiel noticed as he placed his palms against a wall. "There's something behind there but it's… it's encrypted somehow."

"Sophia's sigil-work," Rahab identified. "Stand back." The other two obliged as the angel traced the borders of the wall where the encryption was woven in. It would take him just a little while to crack it. Rahab's eyes glowed a celestial blue as he went hard at work, interpreting the patterns and manipulating them in the right manner. It was a difficult puzzle, considering that Sophia must have been trying to hide it from even her former apprentices. Thunder roared. Dean and Castiel looked skyward, taking notice of the sky's protest.

"What kind of sigil-work is this?" Castiel asked. It seemed strange to him that it would be so powerful as to command the skies when touched.

"The tricky kind," Rahab simply said. With a great exhale, he let back his arms. "It's too difficult. There's no way we can crack this open properly without some kind of passcode."

"Can't we just blast it down?" Castiel suggested, though it sounded more like an order. "Between the two of us, I think we can manage it."

"Did you not hear the thunder? We blast the door down and who knows what'll happen?" Rahab concerned. "The door's rigged. There's no telling what'll be hit if we force it open."

"If we don't do it, Crowley will," Castiel rebutted, getting impatient.

"Woah, cool it! Both of you," Dean interjected. "We'll figure something out." He turned to Rahab. "What about this passcode?"

"It appears to be the answer to a riddle," Rahab surveyed the invisible etchings on the wall. " _It sees without light but knows it well, it shrouds all but is cast away, it is defeated but never dead. What is it?"_

"Great, just great," Dean sighed, pulling a hand down his face.

Meanwhile, outside, Pahaliah stood in silence and stared at the starry sky while Sam and Meg got on with the warding. "Wait," Meg faced Sam as he shook a can of spray paint. "I took… how many bullets for you guys? And you didn't even look for me?" Sam said nothing, simply too weary to actually answer her question. They'd been through so much the past year and a demon was their last concern. He didn't even think she needed an explanation. It had to be obvious. "Like, even once?" When the hunter said nothing, Meg simply scoffed. "My hero. Anyway what's up with Mrs Uppity over there and Mexican Joe Rogan?"

Sam snuck a glance at Pahaliah, noticing that the angel was on her phone now, talking to someone. "Look, no disrespect, but you haven't exactly been the most, uh, trustworthy person in our lives, Meg," Sam said emotionlessly.

"You're not gonna tell me? Seriously? How am I not team Sam?" Meg argued. "You don't want to say, fine. But remember, I spent time in that walking corpse of yours. I know your sad, little thoughts and feelings."

Sam paused and managed a little frown at her. "That's creepy."

"Here's what I remember. Deep down, in parts you never let see the light of day, you want to live a long, normal life away from creepy old things like me."

"I do." Sam shook the can again before starting on another line. He'd thought about it a lot – how he could finally rest and think about things that didn't involve killing other things. And to be honest, he was just drained from everything. The apocalypse, the cage, getting kidnapped. "But Crowley's still alive and Lucifer's…" Sam stopped. It dawned on him that he probably shouldn't be revealing much about Lucifer's impending freedom from whatever fate Crowley had abandoned him to, especially to someone who used to be an ardent supporter of the archangel.

"Lucifer's what?" Meg stared blankly at Sam.

"It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Sam… tell me," her tone grew serious.

"There's nothing _to_ tell. Crowley handled it. Everyone knows that."

"Well I've been a little 'off the grid', if you didn't know." Meg tilted her head. "What happened?"

Sam was still reluctant to tell her anything. "You know, how about we just wait quietly?"

Pahaliah observed the sky studiously. She could tell something was brewing but she wasn't sure what. "We found the crypt," she told Raziel over the phone.

" _Good. How's our friend Castiel doing?"_

"Suspicious as ever."

" _How can you tell by just looking at him?"_

"Call it intuition. But I just know that he isn't right. I mean, he wasn't the last time I saw him either but that's besides the point."

" _Is it really?"_

"Raz…"

" _Alright, I believe you. Naomi just couldn't let go of all her chess pieces, it seems."_

"We have a plan. It might involve a bit of a scuffle but I'm sure we'll be able to keep the tablet away from him. And once we do that, we need to step up our search for the prophet. The Winchesters weren't even aware that Naomi has him. They appear… concerned."

" _Getting sympathy for the hunters, are we? Well, I don't blame you. They sure know how to get a job done."_

"They don't have bureaucratic hurdles like we do which probably makes them more efficient."

" _Copy that. So what's your plan?"_

Inside, Rahab thought he might have figured out the riddle. "Sophia normally uses passcodes that she would have taught us, in case we needed to access resources that she wasn't around to hand over to us. But if she were to hide something from us… it might be something personal," he reasoned.

"Bottom-line it, Sherlock," Dean implored.

"What is the one part of her that we don't normally see?" Rahab wondered out loud. "It is defeated but never dead…" he repeated under his breath. "The Darkness."

"That has to be it," Castiel agreed. "It is coherent with the riddle."

Dean didn't understand what that really meant or what it had to do with Sophia but he went along with it. He watched as Rahab placed his palms flat against the wall again and did his mojo. And just like that, the door clicked open. The three of them barged in, eager to get their hands on the tablet.

"Dean," Castiel called out, pointing a finger at a lone box with intricate engravings and carvings. "That's it."

"How do you know?" Dean shone a flashlight at the strange box which was clothed in loose spider webs and layers of dust.

"It's the only thing in here that's warded," Rahab explained, returning his gaze to the box after a brief look around the room. There were a lot of interesting things here that he wished he could spend time examining. _Maybe later._

Dean hefted a small dagger in his palm, slotting it under the lid of the box and prying it open. Whispers from the box condemned the action in a sudden crescendo before disappearing all at once, though this could only be picked up by a keen angelic listener. From inside the box he lifted a dusty rock, one he recognised to bear resemblance to the Leviathan tablet he'd seen before. "Winner, winner, chicken dinner," he proclaimed.

"Good. Hand it to me, and I'll take it to heaven," Castiel ordered, extending a hand.

Dean hesitated. "No, we're going to stow it away somewhere safe where Crowley can't get his grubby paws on it," he proposed, eyes flickering to Rahab for support.

"Right, of course. I know a safe location," Castiel nodded in agreement but his voice was less than comforting. Whatever went on in Castiel's head, Dean found it deeply unsettling how he could find nothing that reminded him of his best friend in those blue eyes. They just appeared like uncaring, distant pupils that weren't really present with him.

Meanwhile Rahab moved quietly, lifting each foot cautiously so as to make minimal noise. He was close to Castiel now, approaching him from behind. "You know, uh, why don't you let Sam and I take care of it?" Dean suggested, voice becoming uncertain as his friend neared him slowly.

"I can't let you take that, Dean," Castiel warned. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was a little nervous about the way this conversation was going. Him against a warrior like Castiel, the odds were stacked against him. But he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Can't or won't?" Dean snarled, taking a gamble with his brave tone.

"Both," Castiel responded. He took another step forward and Dean inched backwards. The moment was tense. They both simply stared at each other, wondering what was next. It took only a second. A second for Castiel's legs to tense up and shoot forward, making towards Dean and the tablet. It took the same second for Rahab to leap forward and wrap his arms around Castiel, holding him back.

"Run! Go!" Rahab exclaimed.

Dean froze in his step, taken by surprise as his own friend's willingness to hurt him. As he watched the struggle between the two angels, a voice in his head yelled at him to run. But for a moment longer, his gaze persisted. It was a moment when everything changed. There was a bright flash of light. A loud ringing sound. And then the air grew still. Dean, who'd instinctively shielded his vision from the blinding light, looked around himself to find himself standing alone. _Banishing sigil._

 _ **20 seconds earlier…**_

Pahaliah spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She still held the phone to her ear, listening as Raziel went on about the new loft he'd bought. It was a little comforting, hearing him talk about mundane things like moving from one apartment to another. But her relief was short-lived.

"We've got company," Meg announced, drawing the angel's attention. Pahaliah's eyes narrowed, seeking out the source of the fluctuation in electromagnetic energy.

"Raz, something's up," she said into the phone.

" _What's going on?"_

"It's-" Her voice was cut short by the sound of a hand slapping against the wall, activating the angel-banishing sigil. Celestial force flung her away, leaving the phone to drop onto the ground.

" _Pahaliah? Are you there? What's going on?"_

"Sorry, darling," Crowley said from where he stood, palm still attached to the sigil. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signalling the incoming storm. "I believe they're playing my song."

Without a moment to spare, Crowley's henchmen attacked Meg and Sam. The two reacted instinctively, brandishing angel blades and engaging in combat. It didn't take long for the pair of them to oust the demons, given the combat skills shared between them.

"Love what you've done with the place. You really think all that was gonna keep me out forever?" Crowley taunted, suave as ever.

"You gonna talk us to death or get down to it already?" Meg shot back.

"There's my whore," Crowley scoffed. "But I'm not here for you. I'm here for the stone with the funny scribbles on it."

"That's not gonna happen," Sam growled, muscles tensing for a face-off.

"Love it when you get all tough. Touches me right where my bathing suit goes," Crowley remarked as he pulled out his own angel blade. Footsteps thudded and the door swung open. Dean emerged from the building, shocked and confused with the chunk of rock in his hands. Dust lightly matted his hair and the top of his shoulders on his jacket. "Ah, Dean, ever the vision of clarity."

"Go," Meg spurred them, positioning herself between Crowley and the two brothers. "Get out of here, both of you!"

It wasn't up for questioning. The boys simply obliged, rushing towards the Impala. "Timon and Pumbaa… did they ever tell you about Lucifer? How your beloved Prince walked free while you were playing 'hot nurse' with ol' Cassie? Did they share that little chestnut with you?" Meg and Crowley circled each other ominously, biding their time while the Winchesters drove off in a frenzy. "So all… _this…_ " he did a single wave with his arms. "Hunting the tablet, trying to kill me – it's all done nothing for _you_. It means nothing to them. They'll still see you dead once they've gotten what they've wanted."

"You had me at 'kill you', Crowley," Meg smirked. With a single leap, she lunged forward. To her eventual death.

* * *

 _ **Princeton, West Virginia – 7 January 2012, 2.30pm**_

"This is where it leads us?" Dinah held up a map in the sweltering sun. The bright rays of sunlight glinting off the glossy surface of the map would have blinded anyone, making it difficult to read, unless you were an angel. "The dull, brick landscape of Princeton, West Virginia? This place puts Hell to shame."

"There's only so much you could do for a small town," Shemsiel reasoned, surveying the street in front of them. He felt free again, having changed out of that suit for his typical ensemble. "Now that we've considered the possibility that the third line refers to street number and then possibly a time of day, one has to wonder, what relevance will the date and time have to our search? Why not just give us the coordinates to where Zara is?"

"2nd November, 1020," Dinah repeated under her breath. "What happened on 2nd November at 1020?"

"You don't suppose any of the people here would remember what happened at this specific date and time?"

"Maybe not people," Dinah got an idea. Her attention seemed to be captured by something above them and she spun around a few times before finally fixing her gaze on something. "There," she pointed. On the outside of a quaint little DVD store, just above the door, there was a single camera fixed to the wall facing the street. "Bingo."

The two angels entered the store, their entrance signalled by the jingling of a bell. Some old Dokken song played through the speakers, giving the place an 80s feel it didn't ask for, though not much else could be expected of a store that sold movies almost as old as the missing girl they were looking for. An old 2000s monitor hung on a scaffold nailed to the ceiling, playing CCTV footage from all the cameras fixed inside and outside the store. "Welcome to Duncan's DVDs, how may I help you?" a man looking to be in his thirties with a thin stature greeted them at the counter.

"You Duncan?" Dinah asked.

"Raymond…" the man answered awkwardly. "I own the place."

"Well, Raymond, we happened to notice that you have a camera fixed outside your lovely store," Shemsiel said courteously.

"Yeah," Raymond huffed. "We used to have a robbery problem. Those damn kids…" he shook his head. "After I put up the camera, they finally figured they didn't want to get arrested or else they'll face actual consequences. We haven't had a single robbery since."

"That's great," Shemsiel smiled. "But we'd like to ask you if you have any footage from the morning of 2nd November." When Raymond's eyebrows crinkled a little in curiosity, he elaborated, "We're looking for someone – a close friend who's been missing for days – and we think your footage could help us a great deal."

Raymond glanced at the two of them, frowning still slightly, and placed both his palms on the counter apprehensively. He sighed in what seemed to be resignation. "You shouldn't be asking about that," he said somewhat disappointedly. "Sorry, I can't help you."

Dinah and Shemsiel exchanged confused looks. "What do you mean, 'we shouldn't be asking'?" Dinah probed.

"Maybe you could look at another date?" Raymond pleaded. "Any other day. Just not 2nd November."

"What happened on 2nd November?" Shemsiel asked, tone growing serious. "You have to tell us."

Raymond's eyes seemed to beg them not to ask too much. But the man knew that if he didn't give the strangers something convincing, they would only dig deeper and that wouldn't end up well for anyone. They had the vibes. "Some people came that day. And by some, I mean a lot. It was so sudden. I mean, who would expect such fancy-looking folks to come to such a small shithole town like this one?" he droned on, visibly exasperated. "I still don't know if it all actually happened or not. It feels like a strange dream."

"Who are you talking about?" Dinah pressed.

"Don't know who they were, but they were all wearing suits and carrying briefcases," he recalled. "Even had accents. Like yours," he looked at Shemsiel. "Came in here, saying that I had to hand over the tapes to them or else… it would be a federal case."

"Those men, what were they doing here? Did you see any of it?" Shemsiel inquired. When Raymond hesitated, visibly nervous, the angel half wanted to grab him by the collar and slam his head onto the counter. But he refrained from doing that, knowing that the man was probably afraid of the things he might have seen. Instead, he resorted to another strategy, having noticed the American flag displayed proudly above the counter. "Do you love your country, sir?"

Another look of bewilderment overlay Raymond's face. This had to be one of the strangest encounters yet, with the exception of the Second of November, of course. "Uh… yeah…" he answered, unsure if it was a trick question.

"You Yanks fought the Brits to kick them back across the ocean. Are you seriously going to let them tell you what to do now?" Shemsiel ranted, charging his voice up with spirit so as to get the man riled up.

"Uh _no_ \- no sir," he stammered.

"This is your country, Raymond, and those people are coming here and telling your government what to do!" Shemsiel spoke animatedly. "Resist them!"

Raymond nodded eagerly, the spirit of his founding fathers imbuing him with more courage than he had ten seconds before. "I remember what I saw," he confided. "There were three vehicles. One of them was a black van. There were so many of those men and they went inside the clinic across the street. I couldn't get a clear look but it looked like… like they were dragging an unconscious girl out." He looked away, straining to recall the image clearly in his mind. "What was weird was that… they sent _all those men_ – those big, scary looking men – for one 5-foot-something girl? I mean, what's going on?"

"This girl," Dinah brandished her phone, furiously scrolling through images. "Was it her?" she showed him an old photo she'd taken when Sophia had invited all of them over to her house. It was the last time they'd all been together in the same room. And it was the first time they'd met Luciel. One last happy memory. In that photo, she posed with baby Luc and stood next to the archangel, who conducted herself like a goddess even in modestly simple clothing.

"Yeah, that's her," Raymond affirmed, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "Who is she?"

"A victim," Shemsiel responded. "So these men… did they tell you who they worked for?"

"No, now that I think about it. I just assumed that they were some government agency, I mean, the way they carried themselves. Quick and emotionless. Either that, or they were the mafia or something. It looked like bad news either way," Raymond remarked.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about them? Anything at all that you remember?" Dinah asked, eyes begging to fate that they could get a workable answer. They were so close to getting something. They just needed to ask the right questions.

"I don't know if it'll help but… when I was getting them the footage, I overheard one of them talking on the phone," Raymond remembered. "He was talking about someone called… uhm… Dr Tess? Dr Hess? I don't know. It's been a while. For some reason, that name stuck with me. I don't know if that's useful."

Shemsiel exhaled, partly in relief and partly in… something else. "It is. Thank you so very much, Raymond," he shook the man's hand, steadying Raymond's nervous grip with his own firm one.

"Hey, is that _Funhouse Paranormal Horror_?" Dinah suddenly spoke, enamoured by a single DVD set stood on display behind the counter.

"Oh uh- yeah, it is," Raymond turned to get it and placed it before her.

"How much?" she excitedly dug into her pocket to get out her wallet.

"Dinah, of all the times-" Shemsiel lamented.

"Shush," she cut him off, eagerly checking how much cash she had on her.

"Since it's a classic, I'm putting it up for $30," the store owner managed a small smile.

"Thirty bucks! For an old Eighties flick that overplays the whole teenagers-in-trouble trope and has sock-puppet monsters?" Shemsiel scoffed.

"Hey, it's a horror classic that delves into themes of conformity and social identity with a subtle exploration of the Reagan-era ideas of war and peace!" Dinah defended. " _And_ it's a must-watch in the genre of Post-Modern Cold War Dadaist Horror!"

"Oh my, I see that you are a woman of culture," Raymond chuckled shyly, suddenly finding himself eyeing her with awe. Dinah herself reciprocated the flirtatious gaze, enjoying the attention. "If you'd like, I'll sell you the whole set of _Funhouse Paranormal Horror_ for 80."

"All three movies?" Dinah gaped, holding onto Shemsiel's arm as if the offer would have shocked her enough to knock her off her feet. "I'll take it!"

Dinah watched like a kid in a candy store as Raymond packed the DVDs neatly into a bag and handed it to her. "Good luck on finding your friend," he said sincerely as they both turned to leave.

Outside, the two of them briskly walked across the street and stopped outside the clinic for a moment. "Okay so… Dr Hess," Dinah brought up the ominous name.

"Men of Letters," Shemsiel grimaced like he tasted something bad in his mouth. "This is bad news."

"And here we thought we lived in the one place where we could be free of them," Dinah sighed.

"As long as they have Zara, our secrets are not safe from them," Shemsiel said somewhat hopelessly. It had been two months since they'd gotten a hold of the vessel. Who knows what they could have found out by now? "At least now we know what we're looking for."

"And what we're doing next Friday night," she held up the bag of DVDs.

Within the blink of an eye, both angels vanished, leaving the street as empty as they'd found it. Unbeknownst to them, someone had been watching from the receptionist's counter in the clinic. Someone with black eyes.

* * *

 _ **Some abandoned apartment, Bellevue, Nebraska – 8 January 2012, 2.21am**_

Dean still held the chunk of rock close to his chest, emotionlessly taking note of the peeling paint from the walls. Sam, on the other hand, busied himself with spraying sigils on the walls. Only a small work lamp provided some light. This wasn't the best place to shack up when hiding from angels, but it was late at night and it was at least another six-hour drive back home to Sioux Falls. Even then, neither of them were in any particular hurry to get back to Bobby's house. The place felt empty without the old man there and sometimes it still hurt to turn towards the table in the living room and not find him sitting there, reading about God-knows-what. But more importantly, there was a well-warded box in the panic room – the kind that John Winchester used to hide dangerous things like the Rabbit's Foot they'd been after once. The boys figured that was their safest bet for storing the tablet away from the likes of angels. At least until they found Kevin. _Kevin._ Dean felt his fists clench involuntarily. He felt like such an idiot for just letting the angels take him. Sure, it had all seemed fine and dandy that night, with Castiel catching up with his old garrison buddies – how could either of them have known that they were just handing an evil angel overlord what she wanted on a silver platter?

"Dean," a familiar gravelly voice said out of nowhere. The boys flinched, turning to find Castiel standing between them, his eyes determined yet somehow lifeless.

"Cas," Sam made to approach him.

"No, Sammy, don't!" Dean warned, causing his brother to freeze in his step.

"You don't understand, Dean," the angel took a step forward and again, Dean backed away. "I _need_ to return the tablet home. You cannot have it."

"Cas, we can talk about this," Sam posited, striding towards the angel despite his brother's warning. He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder but soon lived to regret it. With an effortless push, Castiel flung him back against the wall, knocking him unconscious. Dean winced, any remainder of sleepiness tugging at his eyelids disappearing. It was time to end this.

"Cas, if you're in there and you can hear me, you don't have to do this," Dean pleaded. The angel simply marched forward like he couldn't hear anything and struck at Dean, who rushed to protect himself with the rock. That was perhaps not the best move but the gap between them had closed too quickly for Dean's comfort and it was the only thing he had to defend himself with. The solid mass fell ceremoniously to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and revealing the divine tablet. Thunder chorused in welcome of the Word's arrival. "Cas, fight this! This is not you! Fight it!" Dean yelled, scrambling to grab the tablet just in time to avoid the stab of Castiel's blade.

That seemed to have made an effect on him. Castiel paused where he stood, muscles on his arms and neck growing taut as his eyes wildly searched the air for a sense of stability. "What have you done to me, Naomi?" he muttered under his breath.

A small glimmer of hope lit up within Dean. Something was changing inside his best friend. He just had to push harder and get the angel back. "You want it?" he tauntingly held out the tablet in a gamble. "Take it! But you're gonna have to kill me first." Castiel straightened up, suddenly back to his unreachable self. Before Dean could even blink, he grabbed the Winchester by the collar and threw him onto the ground. "Come on, you coward. Do it!" Admittedly, this approach seemed more and more hopeless as the seconds ticked by. But Dean had to try. Castiel rained punches on him, not sparing an inch on the left side of his face. It was all bruises and blood now. "Cas... This isn't you…" Dean whimpered through the pain exploding on his face. "This isn't you."

Blood was all Dean Winchester could taste, smell or see. From where he knelt on the ground, supported solely by the collar, blood dripped down his forehead in front of his right eye – the eye not swollen shut by the repeated battering he'd just endured. A sudden sense of absurdism came over him and he just wondered, _how did we end up here?_ It suddenly dawned on him that it was a real possibility that he wasn't going to make it through the night and his little brother would wake up to a corpse. But no, he had to survive. He had to save himself, save Sammy, and save Cas. His vision began to blur but he tried really hard to focus on the image of Castiel – those blue eyes staring down at him like he was some stranger and an arm held up with the angel blade. _For me? To kill… me?_ His fatigued thoughts barely took on structure as his brain fought to perceive with clarity. All that pain from the broken bones on his face, some of which he was sure were piercing his left eye, were a tad bit distracting to say the least.

"Cas… Cas…" Dean's voice was barely short of a whisper. "I know you're in there…" he weakly grabbed at the angel's sleeve, finding the crisp cloth but not grasping it proper. "I know you can hear me, Cas… It's me… Come back to us…" he mumbled through the pooling blood in his mouth. Still, the angel did nothing but stare into that lone visible apple-green iris. Dean pushed his luck again, seeking the kind and merciful brother in the servant of Heaven. "We're family… we need you… _I need you_."

Dean saw the blade move and for a moment he thought it would pierce him. But that was just the blaring pain causing him to catastrophize every movement he noticed. The blade dropped and rang loudly as it hit the floor. Castiel's arm was free. He slowly brought it down, seeking the dropped tablet. The writings glowed fiercely upon Castiel's touch, enveloping the whole room in its cosmic light. His pupils contracted and suddenly, he felt like he'd been awakened – like he'd been in an inescapable fog and now the wind had cleared it to show him his true path. He looked down at the tablet and then at the wounded Winchester. _What have I done…_

"Cas?" Dean's voice sounded frail, almost ready to give up and leave him to collapse on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Castiel felt a sudden rush of emotions, like Naomi's programming had cut them all off with a large dam that was decimated when he touched the tablet. But mostly it was sympathy and regret. He reached out his fingers towards Dean's wounded head. "No, Cas," Dean protested, expecting nothing but the worst at this point. As he awaited death's embrace, he was surprised beyond measure to find the exact opposite. The first thing he felt most clearly was Castiel's two fingers on his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel apologised. For the first time in a long time, he sounded like himself.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked.

Before his question could be answered, there was a rush of wings fluttering in front of them. "Castiel!" Naomi exclaimed, eyes widened in horror. She was shocked that after all that practice – making Castiel kill literally thousands of Dean clones – Castiel still deferred and even missed the opportunity to kill the most annoying hunter of all time. But the question of her treatment's effectiveness would have to wait. Now her eyes were fixed on the prize. "You have the tablet," she said, more calmly this time. She extended her hand. "Give it to me."

"Not so fast," another fluttering of wings sounded behind Castiel. "You don't have to do this," Raziel pleaded. In his pocket, he had Pahaliah's phone – he'd found it on the ground near Lucifer's crypt after the call was abruptly cut. Though he was still in the midst of unpacking, he couldn't just ignore a warning sign like that. And to his dismay, he found her phone without its owner anywhere to be found. To be honest, however, he was just relieved he didn't find her dead body at the scene. For that much, he was grateful.

"I…" Castiel looked between him and Naomi.

"Come on, Castiel, that tablet belongs with me and you know it," Naomi stated, as if it should have been so obvious to him.

"I am the Keeper of Knowledge, the guardian of Heaven's secrets," Raziel said in turn. "It is my job to protect the Word of God."

"No…" Castiel muttered under his breath. He frowned deeply, eyes darting between arbitrary points on the ground as he tried to figure it all out. Maybe it was a shot in the dark, but things seemed to be falling into place now. Why he was resurrected, why he had to forget himself and experience a normal human life as Emmanuel until Dean found him… it was all there. He needed to know what was at stake. God wanted him to know what was at stake – humanity, angels, demons, all of it. All of _life_ hung in the balance. And it was all on him to defend it.

"Castiel," Naomi called out again.

"I have to protect it," Castiel said.

"And we will," Naomi reassured him.

"No, I have to protect it from you." Castiel caught her glare but ignored it, looking to Raziel instead. The Keeper had kinder eyes anyway. And he seemed to understand. "All of you."

With that, Castiel stretched his wings and took off promptly. Naomi flinched, ready to charge after him but Raziel simply stood in her way, holding a blade aimed at her chest as if to guard Castiel's exit.

"What are you doing?" she inquired, bewildered. "He's getting away with the tablet."

"He's doing exactly what he's supposed to do," Raziel answered. He wasn't too happy about it, but he'd envisioned worse endings. "He's protecting the tablet."

"It'll only be a matter of time," Naomi threatened, before taking her own leave. The shabby apartment was silent again.

"Are you alright?" Raziel asked, only then noticing the sullen expression on the hunter's face. Dean looked like someone kicked his dog, his facial muscles tensing and relaxing.

"Yeah, I'll… I'll be okay," Dean answered.

"Your brother," Raziel noticed just as Dean was about to say something. The angel stormed towards the younger Winchester, checking for any injuries and waking him up with a finger to the forehead.

"What was that, Raz?" Dean asked. Right now, he just needed some clarity. Some peace of mind before the day could end and the night could receive its payment in sleep.

"He went against his programming," Raziel inferred, backing away as Sam slowly began to rouse. "He defied a direct order from Naomi. That means the treatment is being undone."

"But what broke the connection?" Dean probed. It all seemed too good to be true. He needed to be sure.

"I don't know," Raziel shrugged. "But it doesn't really matter, I suppose. You should be relieved, Winchester. You have your friend back."

"Yeah…" Dean still maintained a rigid frown, though his gaze softened as Sam's eyes fluttered open and then squinted at the sudden rush of light filling his irises.

"Dean?" Sam called out. Dean went to his brother's side, kneeling and checking to make sure he was okay. "Who're you talking to?"

Dean looked back at the room and found himself alone with his brother in the dingy apartment again.

* * *

 _ **The Vault**_

 _Rise, my angel, rise._ Out from the deep dark abyss a hand reached skyward. His fingers were rigid and claw-like, still struggling to stay above the pit of life-sucking creatures. Though muffled by the things that drowned him at first, his furious yelling finally materialised into the dense seawater as his head emerged above the pitch-black hole in the seabed. His red eyes glowed so bright with effort that they could have burnt holes in the ceiling of the vault, were it not for the fortifications Khaos had put in place. Vince Vincente's face was a rotting mass of flesh by now, the decaying process accelerated both by the power of the archangel he contained and the energy-siphoning mass of tentacled creatures in the vault. Skin peeled away from the bones, leaving jagged edges where withering old skin used to be. Somehow in the struggle with the creatures he'd lost an eye. It would have been easy for an archangel to recover from a mortal injury but evidently, Lucifer was too busy trying to escape eternal torment and being dragged downwards to a point of no return. Now there was only a crusty reddish-brown layer separating the inside of his eye socket and keeping the seawater from entering his head. A single red orb of light shone where his eyeball would have been as a reminder that the archangel was still in that body.

His teeth clenched in effort as he attempted to remain afloat in the pool of death. You could see the gums of his lower jaw tightening as his bony teeth clammed together because he only had half a chin left. There was no escaping these snake-like things that had the teeth of piranhas – when they bit, they bit hard. It didn't matter where you were human, demon or angel. It all hurt the same. Also missing from his face was an ear, some parts of his forehead and chunks of his cheek. It might have been easier to recount what facial structures remained. And if this was what his face looked like, one might take a gander in imagining what happened to the rest of him. In any case, Vince Vincente was long dead.

Lucifer arched his back, pulling away from whatever encircled his waist and shoulders, buying him some much-needed space. For the past several months, it had been nothing but a constant thrashing about and struggle against these relentless creatures. In the beginning, he'd only tried to escape their clutches, pulling and pushing in vain as they dragged him further and further down with them. But then he heard a loud shrieking sound. As he jerked his head, wondering where this sudden, unusual sound came from, he saw it. It's teeth – small but sharp like needles – glistened from the light he emitted but that also meant he could see its mouth wide open. It was shrieking and if Lucifer wasn't so alarmed, he might have thought those things looked at him like he was dinner – in impatient delight. His eyes barely widened in surprise before one of them leapt forward and sunk its teeth into his right eye and gouged it out. He yelled despite himself, suddenly in unimaginable agony. Then a chorus of shrieking noises sounded around him and the others did the same and soon, he just couldn't shout loud enough to convey all the pain he was feeling. It was overwhelming, total and absolute. There was no space for any other thought than a sense of impending death and a longing for it all to end.

Yet a single image permeated him with a strength like no other. Sophia. She survived this. She made it through this custom Hell. If he ever saw her again, he swore he would shake her shoulders until she told him why she never talked about this. But most importantly, if she emerged out of this pit, he could too. Though she did have help – her vessel was the only one capable of pulling her out of this. And he didn't have the vessel. He didn't have Zara. It would just have to be him. He extended his wings as far back as he could at the expense of the creatures finding new spots to feast on him. A questionable decision, sure, but he was at the end of the line. He had to try everything. Luckily, it did enough. It gave him enough momentum to push upwards and swim to the surface, despite the overwhelming resistance. He felt relief like no other when his left arm finally punched through the surface, drenching in cold water.

All he had to do was reach for the ceiling. _Just… a little… more…_ He pushed with all he could muster and for an archangel, that was a lot of energy. A strained groan burst from his throat. He was so close. He felt himself floating above, though he was only back in the saltwater from mid-torso upwards. But the creatures didn't give up. They began slithering up his torso, around his neck, and plunged themselves into the gaping mouth of his vessel, eating it out from the inside. Then more followed up his body. _No, no, no. I will not let them get me again!_ With a final push, he managed to smoke out of his vessel, forming a luminescent cloud above the pit just in time to see Vince Vincente's lost, dead eyes – or eye, rather – as the human meatsuit was gobbled up by the carnivorous pit. Lucifer's back hugged the ceiling as he simply stared down into the pit of doom, panting heavily.

 _Move!_ Once he snapped out of his daze, he descended onto the floor of the vault gently, still unaccustomed to feeling solid ground beneath his celestial feet. His body and mind felt numb. If nothingness was a feeling, that was what he felt then. Bite marks peppered his body in a trypophobic fashion and he still felt sore all over. It was going to take time to recover from this. If only there was something he could consume to accelerate the healing process. _I could eat a hundred thousand souls right now…_ Oh that would be so good. Or maybe an angel. He played with the idea in his mind. Cannibalising one of his own kind, ripping them apart and licking his fingers coated with angel grace. _Can't say I've never done that before._ Sure, it horrified Sophia, but it didn't matter to him what anyone thought. Having been gripped by depravity, there was no low he hadn't sunk to. Yet somehow the love of his life stuck by him as if it hadn't terrified her to the core. _Is this… guilt?_ _That's new._

His head slowly craned and he studied the sigil that brought him here. It reminded him of Crowley. _That… that little backbiting pretentious imp of a demon._ Lucifer yelled with all of himself, arms and chest tensing as he released all that tension building up inside of him. The sigil broke apart, shattering with a weak flash of light. He wanted nothing more than to storm into Hell, grab that thorny little munchkin by the collar and toss him bloody around the room until nothing was left. The universe knew no rage like the one he had right now. He felt unstoppable. If he wanted, he could manifest a dozen hurricanes as large as the state of Texas and wipe out every human in every corner of the world while expending all of himself – sounded like something his beloved would not condone. Maybe he should. But none of that would mean anything if the blathering idiot Crowley was alive. Lucifer couldn't rest easy without first crushing the life out of the usurper. The one who laid claim to what was _his_ – his kingdom, his right, his creation. Onward to Hell he flew.

As soon as he arrived, the torches flared to life, shooting flames high into the ceiling. Such was his energy – strong and a force to be reckoned with. But as he found, no one stood in his way. The hallways were empty. No demons in sight. This was absurd. The doors to the throne room slammed open. To his surprise, it was dark inside and again, no one was present. No one but one man. A man he recognised. Blond hair, blue eyes, rough stubble – how could he forget? Nick seemed to know that he was there. Lucifer barely had time to process what he was seeing. He felt nothing but relief in that moment.

"Will you-"

"Yes," Nick said, a disturbing lack of emotion on his face. A bright light enveloped the room as Lucifer took his vessel. Though he realised this could be temporary, just like the other vessels he'd burnt through since being free from the Cage, he couldn't help but feel a sense of being welcomed as he entered Nick. It was like being reunited with an old friend. Especially after hearing that sweet word that gave him power to do as he wished. But his relief would be short-lived.

* * *

A/N:

As you should be able to tell by now, I've been teasing the return of a certain prodigal son. I'm not even mentioning his name explicitly in the story for reasons that will be clear eventually but I just wanted to let you guys know that yes, Luciel is on Earth right now and if you didn't already get that, uhm, get a clue (lol). Poor boy's trying his best to make things right but sometimes it just isn't enough.

After seeing season 13, I'm kinda hopeful for Jack's character and I find him to be a little similar to the character of Luciel I have in mind (though there are important differences, I must say). Maybe in the future there is a possibility of a universe cross-over where the two sons of Lucifer would meet, if you guys are interested ;)


	61. Keep The Faith

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 61: Keep The Faith**

 _ **Shemsiel's Beach Club, Miami, Florida – 8 January 2012, 12.13pm**_

It was high noon when Shemsiel and Dinah were sipping on two ice-cold margaritas, sat across each other at a round table free of the normal clutter in Shemsiel's office. Raziel would be expecting them both to come to his new office soon to discuss their mission. Now that would be tricky, considering that Shemsiel had intelligently signed himself up to be answerable to not just one but two angels who happened to hate each other. He was loyal to Raziel, of course – forever and always. But the Naomi situation was somewhat complex. While he realised that he _should_ be feeling guilty for ever even summoning Naomi, he couldn't help but feel some satisfaction in actually having gotten somewhere with finding Zara. If it wasn't for Naomi, they wouldn't even have known where to start. Herein lay the problem – Naomi would want to hear about what he'd discovered. On top of that, Shemsiel was fairly certain that she would expect him to lie to Raziel just so that she can get ahead.

"We have to tell her _something_ ," Shemsiel put forth. Worry eclipsed his face as he anticipated a response from Dinah, who so far seemed to be more quiet than usual. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes closed in some kind of meditation. Millennia of practice made her eyeliner just perfect, its wings almost as shapely as her actual wings. Shemsiel felt somewhat unsettled to see her in relative calm whereas he himself felt like his heart would jump out of his chest if he didn't take action right then and there.

She had her knees pulled up, her shins pressing against the table. Then her eyes fluttered open. "Hmm…" she rolled her tongue over her upper teeth. "We need to tell the others."

"Tell them what? That Naomi thinks I'm working for her now?" Shemsiel huffed.

"Yes. Tell them everything," Dinah advised. When he rolled his eyes, she just straightened up, becoming impatient. "You did this, Shems. Own up to it."

"Are you… are you sure about this?" he pressed. "What if it's a bad time?"

"Look, you did something regrettable. Now, you have that in common with Raziel," she reasoned. "But the both of you, no matter how much you are going to disagree about methods, wanted the same thing – to get somewhere. Once he sees what we've gotten, I'm sure Raz will ease up on you. He's not a short-tempered butthead like you."

Shemsiel chose to ignore that jibe. "Alright, then what? Naomi's still waiting."

"Raziel will know what to do," she answered. "You know, this could actually work in our favour. If she thinks that you'll snitch on us, then we can throw her off."

"That's assuming that Raz won't finally decide to kick me off the team," he grumbled.

"Oh come on," Dinah began to feel sorry for him. "He's not going to kick you off the team, Shems."

"How do you know that? I've been throwing punches at him since Day One," Shemsiel reminded her.

"Are you just going to sit there and be an insecure teenage girl?" she snapped at him. "Raziel's your friend, _dumbass._ He's better than you give him credit for."

"Hmph. Alright," Shemsiel relented.

 _ **Raziel's New Office, Los Angeles – 8 January 2012, 12.44pm**_

"Oh come on," Raziel threw his hands up. The five of them sat around a conference table. The new loft had a relaxed aesthetic, similar to the warm shades of the wooden scheme the New York office had. This one too was situated on a high floor of a skyscraper, overlooking the cityscape of Los Angeles. "Seriously?"

He seemed more exasperated than furious, which was supposedly a good sign. Dinah gave Shemsiel a thumbs up under the table to provide support. "I know. I fucked up," Shemsiel gave his sorriest expression.

"Of all the things you could do for revenge…" Pahaliah had a palm fixated on her forehead, supported by an elbow that rested on the table. She shook her head in disappointed.

"It's not revenge, I swear!" Shemsiel defended. "I mean, do you guys actually think I'm that petty?" There was a collective hesitation in answering that question. "Wow. Now _that's_ the true tragedy here."

"You know what, whatever," Raziel dismissed, maybe a little too soon for comfort. Shemsiel expected at least half an hour of having his ear chewed off. "Let's just end it at this, okay? I know I did a bad thing, and you did a bad thing in response. So let's just call it even. No one do any more bad things!"

"Is this what we've come to?" Rahab chimed in, disappointed himself.

"Unfortunately so. But I'm drawing the line here," Raziel declared. "From now on, we return to what we are supposed to be. Full transparency among us. No one do anything behind anyone's back. And no, Shemsiel, it doesn't mean you're forgiven – you still have to see this through and produce something good out of what you've done."

"I understand," Shemsiel solemnly nodded. "So what do we do now? What do I tell Naomi?"

"The truth," Raziel answered. He let out an exhale, running through the rationale in his head. "If this is really the Men of Letters, then we're going to need all the help we can get. They're a tricky bunch."

"Wait, wait," Rahab held up a finger. "How sure are we that this is actually what it is? How did you guys say that you ended up in Princeton again?"

"An eerily-placed clue," Shemsiel answered, taking off his aviators for once in a lifetime. Through his vessel's pale bluish-grey eyes, he turned to face his fellow wearer of tank tops. "Someone wanted us to find out what happened to Zara. And this someone happens to know Trimarchian code. And presumably they knew what happened, which was how they gave us the exact coordinates and even the date and time of Zara's kidnapping."

"But why not just come and tell us? Why go through the trouble of leaving an encoded message?" Pahaliah pondered.

"Maybe they couldn't," Dinah suggested. "It could be Sophia. It could be someone else. But whoever they are, they must have known that we were actually looking for Zara in the first place. Which then begs the question: how?"

"One of Naomi's?" Pahaliah speculated. She tsked, shaking her head in denial. "No, that doesn't sound right."

"I know this sounds like a long shot but…" Dinah trailed off, her eyes frozen in their trajectory from a sudden realisation. "What if someone's been listening in on us?"

That certainly got everyone's attention. They'd all grown silent, straightening up in their chairs. "Let's find out," Raziel posited. "Everyone, take a different corner. Search the apartment."

 _Took them long enough to catch on,_ the stealthy archangel's lips curved up one side. He watched in mild amusement as the angels slowly crept around the apartment in search of anything dubious. But they wouldn't find anything. Not that day. As quietly as he had entered, the scarlet-eyed son left.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 8 January 2012, Time doesn't matter in Hell**_

"Oh, you'll resist, at first. But the humiliation will eat at you. Until, finally, you're worn down by your utter helplessness. And you call me... Master," Crowley suavely dictated, standing in front of his new prisoner. He had to consciously repress an outburst of laughter at the situation. Even in a moment like this – of certain and utmost victory – he couldn't believe that he'd made it this far. That his plan had worked so wonderfully. "You brag of your superior power. Well, genius trumps brute force. I've had a dozen of my most loyal studying the cage where you were held at the molecular level. They managed to replicate the material. They made those chains. Getting you here... well, that was a different matter."

None of it would have been possible without the witch, Esther. Her intelligent weaving of power and innovation had given him all he could have ever wanted. The fires of passion surged through his veins and he vowed to himself that he would make sweet, sweet love to her once he was done taunting the Devil. Her help was instrumental with the technical bits. But the plan? The creativity? All that was his. Breaking down the old vessel's sanity – not that there was much to begin with – giving him the false hope of getting free and maybe seeing his lover again was all Crowley's to own. Seeing the torment and anguish on Nick's face was like a sweet prelude to what he would put Lucifer through. With enough prodding and sweet-talking, Nick's identity broke down just enough that he would do whatever Crowley said but not too much that he couldn't say a certain three-lettered word. The word that served as the lock to Lucifer's new prison.

Lucifer smirked, almost impressed. "Thanks? I mean, all that effort," he studied that shit-eating grin on Crowley's face closely. "So you could've had me back in the cage, but _no_ , you needed your sad, little uh- whatever this is. How do you think this is going to end? Nice new digs, by the way. _Cozy_."

"Keep laughing, Satan," Crowley taunted. "You'll want to be entertained until I eventually end you."

Lucifer obliged. It just all seemed so silly to him. _Does this demon really think…?_ "Ah. Oh, sorry, it's just that..." he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with what restricted movement the cuffs around his wrists allowed him. "You actually... you seriously think this is gonna work? It's just, uh... It's so sad."

Crowley pursed his lips. Perhaps it would take a while longer before the world's least favourite angel actually understood what dire situation he was in. Or the demon King would just have to show him. He slowly walked over and with a swift swipe of the hand, he yanked the chain connected to the brace around Lucifer's neck, forcing him down onto the ground. "Hope you like the taste of the floor," he sneered.

"Ow," Lucifer uttered. _Oh, you shouldn't have done_ that.

"There's a spot there that needs scrubbing," Crowley quipped, feeling some satisfaction at watching the archangel turn his head tensely towards him from the ground.

"And worse, you're not even gonna see it comin' when you get taken down," Lucifer threatened as he got himself back onto the chair.

"By you?" Crowley huffed.

"And my beautiful family," Lucifer vowed. "We'll probably take turns kicking you around. Hey, maybe junior will use your head as soccer practice."

"Your… family," Crowley pondered over those words, forming a steeple with his fingers as he slowly paced behind the chair. "Oh, you mean Sophie and little Satan? Well, where are they now, then?" He was now in Lucifer's right peripheral field of vision, using his hand to make a gesture like he was looking somewhere far away. "Are they… over there?" He then looked in a different direction, maintaining the gesture. "Or… or are they over there?" Crowley dropped his hand and made a disappointed expression. "I'm sorry, I just- I just don't see them here, there or even anywhere, as a matter of fact." Now he was really pushing it, pouting like a sad little duckling. "What happened? Did your girlfriend take the kid and leave you? Did she finally realise that you weren't worth sticking around for? That you weren't uh… how do you say… _father material_?" Lucifer snarled at him, pulling at his own chains in desperate hunger for blood. "The old seed-and-secede? Or the- the switch-and-ditch?" Crowley burst out into laughter, amused by his own verbal assault. "Maybe she found someone else? I mean, all those years you spent away from each other… Are you sure the child is yours?"

"She did _not_ leave me," Lucifer muttered, almost like a growl. He refused to believe it, no matter how much his better instincts told him so. He felt like he should hate her. That she deserved nothing but his contempt after what she'd done. But still, he wanted so much to trust her. Maybe she had a reason. Maybe when she came back it would all make sense. 14 billion years of knowing someone had to mean something. Then again, something she had said a while back came to mind. _I've accepted that we're not the same as we used to be. Maybe you should too._

"It is a little touching, you know. That you have so much faith in someone who pulled a 'God' on you. One would think that someone like you wouldn't fall for it again. No pun intended," Crowley remarked. As if to rub salt on the wound, he continued, "But really, I've had my men scouring the globe for the sweet thing and I'm sorry to say that Sophia just… isn't even on this planet. But her vessel on the other hand…"

 _Her vessel. Zara._ There was some hope after all. "Let me guess… you have her here somewhere just waiting for Sophia to come back so that you can pull the same schtick on her," Lucifer wondered.

"That would be… really entertaining. I mean, I'm gonna have to cut my cable subscription," Crowley jibed. "But _no._ Zara is going through an entirely different hell of her own. And if she isn't, it just means she's ratted on you and your beloved for the sake of self-preservation. Either way, you get a washed up vessel who probably wants nothing to do with you." Lucifer looked away, spiteful. Crowley simply exhaled and checked the time on his watch. "Oh would you look at the time. Kingly things await me."

With that, he left Lucifer alone with his thoughts. Sighing, Lucifer reached into that mental link he had with Sophia – the one afforded to him by the vial of essence she'd given him before the apocalypse. _I'm in Hell again. Wish you were here._

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 15 January 2012, Fuck if I know the time**_

 _Brains. Worms. Insects. Crawling up the wall. Ants. Ants. ANTS._ Zara felt giddy. She'd been staring at the red light in the corner of the room for at least an hour straight. It was the most interesting thing to do in there. She'd look at the light bouncing off the walls and there'd be faint images appearing in the darkness. They're called closed-eye hallucinations and it's perfectly normal for anyone to purportedly see things in darkened places or when they close their eyes. And for Zara, it was the only kind of entertainment. She'd weave stories in her head out of the things she saw, like she was telling a crazy bed-time story to the child she would be having. Maybe she was preparing her arsenal of stories in advance. _Would it be a boy or a girl?_ _Ah, who cares._ Most people would probably be frightened of having children out of wedlock. But right now, it was the only thing that made Zara happy. Just her and this little one against the world. No angels, no demons. What about Nick? _He's probably dead anyway._ Crowley had him – not much to imagine after that.

"Zara? _Zara._ " The doctor's voice snapped her out of her daze. She looked around herself, surprised by the sudden intensity of light. She was sitting in the doctor's office. She didn't even know how this happened. "How are you feeling?"

 _Absolutely void of emotion._ "I'm alright," she answered, nodding.

"Are you experiencing any discomfort? Anything out of the ordinary?" Dr Berg maintained a frown-riddled expression.

"My feet are swelling, I guess. I feel kinda sick every now and then. That's normal, right?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," he said, now ruffling through a drawer for some papers.

"Good, 'cause I haven't had a normal human pregnancy before," she smirked sardonically.

Dr Berg raised an eyebrow at that before lifting a document into view. "I have the results of the test we ran on you in the week after… uhm, Christmas." Unless the doc had a phobia of reindeers or Santa, Zara could have sworn saying the word 'Christmas' made him uncomfortable. Maybe it had something to do with all the arguing she heard right before she passed out. She couldn't recall what he and Toni must have been arguing about, but it sounded bad. "So far, so good. Everything seems normal. But I'm gonna need you to take it easy from now on."

"That's not exactly in my hands, you know," Zara quipped. "What's the matter, doc? You seem tense."

"Zara, if I'm being completely honest…" he gulped. Zara herself felt a shiver arising from seeing his nervousness. She was used to seeing him as a somewhat comforting presence but if he was anxious… "Toni is venturing beyond our ethical boundaries. I'm trying my best to keep her under control, but there's only so much I can do. The only thing that's keeping her from using all her tools on you is that baby in your womb."

Those words resounded in the vacuous space in her head. _The only thing… is that baby in your womb._ Zara averted her eyes, her naturally shapely eyebrows creasing slightly. "What can I actually do? I can't give her what she wants… I don't know how…" her voice trembled a little.

"Tell her something. Give her _some_ information," Dr Berg advised. He was the only one in this whole facility who had human eyes. Eyes that looked like they cared. Maybe Tom showed it from time to time, but that was a hard bet. So when Dr Berg gave her the look like he was begging her to do what was right by her child and not the archangel, she couldn't help but rethink her choices.

"I've already betrayed Sophia too many times," she spoke through an impending sob. "And I paid a huge price for it. I'm paying for it now." Dr Berg felt sympathy tugging at his heart strings. He had no idea what she was talking about but he knew, if anything, that this was a girl who'd lost hope a long time ago. A psych-eval based on her history would confirm as much. She wasn't a bad person; she was just… lost. He wished to God so bad that she would just choose the light and do right by herself. "Sophia always told me I should have faith in her. And if I had, I wouldn't be here right now. I won't make the same mistake again. I'll keep my faith. I know she'll save me. I just know she will. And then I'll apologise and everything will be right in the world again."

"But what if it's too late?" he asked her. "God, angels – they're all the same. You don't know when they'll do anything. Are you really going to take the chance? Is your child's life worth the chance?"

Zara felt her facial muscles tense up, ready to contort into a weep. Her gaze scanned upwards cursorily, fixing on the crucifix hanging from the wall. Jesus hung from it in agony, palms and feet spilling blood where faith had driven nails into him. "Faith isn't supposed to be easy. I see that now," she reasoned. "I just have to trust that she'll keep me and my baby safe."

"For your sake, I hope you're right," Dr Berg responded.

* * *

 _ **A Crossroad, Somewhere – 8 January 2012, 1.24pm**_

"You're late," Naomi glared at the demon. She stood on a crossroad among green pastures, illuminated by the blaring sun.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart," Crowley greeted. "I had to tend to an important guest."

"You have to know that I won't hesitate to smite you. Especially after what you've done," Naomi threatened. "Why did you summon me?"

"To talk terms, of course," he answered. "We've both been bamboozled, presumably by the same angel."

"Raziel," Naomi spat out his name bitterly.

"Ah, finally a name to the face," he remarked. "Angel of secrets, huh? We're all suckers for tall, mysterious types, aren't we?" he sighed. Naomi rolled her eyes. "You should be glad that I've actually considered the possibility that our delivery mishap was not fully intentional on your part. And I understand, having received the short end of the stick by certain hero types."

"Is there a point to this?" Naomi pressed, her shark-like eyes studying his every move in case he tried to pull something.

"If you remember our time in Mesopotamia the way I do, you know I'm a lover, not a fighter," Crowley flirted.

"What do you want, you cockroach?" Naomi scoffed.

"I'm fully aware that your pet angel – my ex-pet angel- _our_ pet angel?" he paused to wonder. "Castiel is in the wind with the tablet."

"Have you seen him?" Naomi asked. "Where is he?"

"Easy, love. I do have _some_ eyes on him," he reassured her. "Sure, it is possible for me to point you in the right direction. But that's not why I'm here."

"No?"

"We had a plan, you and I. A rather wonderful plan, I might add. A plan that's on the verge of falling into total ruin-"

"Plan's off," Naomi stated. "Raziel saw to that. Which means we're back to square one." A blade fell from her right sleeve into her grip.

"Don't be so quick to give up," he urged. "Maybe we can make another deal before this gets truly bollocksed. I mean, I must have something that you want."

"We've been down this road before," she spoke, pointing the blade at him. "The last time we made a deal, I lost three angels and our plan went up in flames. I've learnt my lesson."

"Well maybe you should've done a better job at keeping your subordinates in line! I know I have," he argued. "And you know what, this time we can include your little angel fiend in the plan too." Naomi raised an eyebrow, curious. "I'm guessing you haven't killed him yet because of some kind of ethical code or whatever nonsense you angels tell each other to sleep at night. But what if I did? No one's gonna bat an eye if the King of Hell and All Things Evil takes out one little angel."

That truly did sound tempting. But what was the point? Get in bed with Crowley again, for what exactly? To kill a competitor? It sounded disproportionate. "You know I actually feel sorry for you. Such a lowly thing like you, trying to strike so high. Be careful, you might hurt yourself." She took a step closer to him, armed with the angel blade.

"Your angels aren't dead," Crowley suddenly added. "I mean, the third one is and I presume that's your doing. But the first two are alive and well." Naomi froze in her step. "Do you want them back?"

"What did you do to them?" she growled.

"Oh, nothing much… just sold them off to an interested party," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"You sold angels of the Lord like common whores?" Naomi exclaimed. "To whom?"

"Ah, here's the thing. You haven't asked me what I want in return," he pointed out.

Naomi crossed her arms and waited. "Well?"

"What I want is very simple. I realise that the bedrock of our once-blooming cooperation has been compromised. And frankly, I enjoyed our relationship. All that mutual understanding and potential for peace and freedom for both our sides…"

"Crowley. Point."

"I want us to rebuild that relationship. Because it matters. Because it works. And to start again, we must both come to a truce. Castiel may have the angel tablet, but it's your problem. Let me tell you what's mine: the demon tablet."

"The demon tablet," she repeated. "You want the demon tablet, is that it?"

"It is. If the angel tablet allowed Castiel to break your hold on him, I must wonder what the demon tablet could do. I have to do what it takes to protect my own kind, you see," he explained. "My proposition is this: I'll tell you where you can find the rugged renegade, and you help me get my hands on the demon tablet." Naomi seemed unconvinced. "And on top of that, as a sign of good faith, I'll tell you where you can find your two missing children."

 _Hm._ This was a tough one. What was the alternative? Crowley beating her to getting to Castiel? That would be a non-problem, considering Castiel was well-equipped to handle demonic disturbances, especially now that he was determined to protect the tablet. But it would be nice to get his location before Raziel. And considering that Sarah and Marcus were still alive, it was entirely possible that they were being used to extract information about Heaven, just like Crowley did with Samandriel. And so it would be her duty to find them and put an end to it.

"Hello? Earth to Naomi? Can we make it official or not?" Crowley snapped her out of her thoughts.

"When I look at your face, Crowley, all I see is target practice," Naomi said firmly. "But, I'll admit, you do make an interesting offer. So what the hell."

She drew out a pen from inside her coat. Taking his cue, Crowley himself brandished a scroll, letting the parchment drop and roll on the ground. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 20 January 2012, Time? Idk her**_

Zara sat in the corner of the red light, thinking about nothing in particular. She held a lock of her hair, bringing down a comb to untangle it. The comb was one little luxury they allowed her, on top of the Doppler that the doc gave her. Sometimes she wondered whether it was actually okay that she was becoming cozy in this dark cell. Sure, there was nothing here, but what was _out there_? In the real world? Demons and angels and monsters that wanted to kill her? And if she ever got out of here, what would she do? Get a job? Sounded like too much effort for something that couldn't last very long. The image of Cecil, her former boss, flashed before her eyes and a stabbing pain radiated through her chest. How many people had she condemned… just by knowing them? At least until this pregnancy ended and her little baby popped out, this padded room was probably the safest place for her anyway. Even with a sadistic bitch like Toni in charge.

She adjusted her position on the ground, leaning back more against the wall as she bathed in the deep red light. She moved herself forward a bit, feeling some mild discomfort. Expecting the discomfort in her lower back to go away, she relaxed her shoulders, waiting for it to pass. That's when she felt it. Something between her legs. She held her knees apart and looked down, but seeing as she was in a really dark room wearing black pants, there was nothing she could see. Thinking nothing of it first, she went back to hugging her knees. Then she felt it again. Like something flowing. It was a familiar feeling, like something a woman would only feel when…

She gasped. Desperately hoping that it wasn't what she thought it was, she put a hand down there. Her heart raced and she panted heavily as she pulled away, feeling something sticky coat her fingers. She held her hand up to the light and she swore her heart stopped beating in that moment. It looked black on her hand – thick and shiny, black liquid. Zara screamed, jolting to her feet immediately. She looked at where she had been sitting and there, the carpeted floor was stained with something dark. Jabs of pain radiated from below her tummy. Zara ran to the door, feeling sick with every drop that ran down her legs and stained the floor with a bloody footprint. She pounded the door with a fist aggressively, over and over again until it hurt. It took a while for her to verbalise what she needed but she managed a shout. "HELP!" The world spun around her. Her fingers trembled. Her fists clenched in denial. And in all this time, her insides screamed out for… for something to save her. There was no time, no thought to waste on what was actually going on. Only this terrible, burning feeling in her soul that life was over. The muscles in her throat tightened, releasing a long, pained bawl from the depths of her very being.

 _No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. NO!_ A raw shriek escaped her throat as she felt all life drain from her bones. She felt herself going weak. Her mind swirled with the despair that threatened to take her over. When the guards finally opened the door to her cell, they found her curled up on the floor and a weeping, trembling mess. They had to lift her up by the arms and drag her out of that cell. At some point, one of the guards resorted to simply carrying her because she had given up on walking. What began as a trail of crimson footprints had become a dragged path of smudged blood, and then eventually mere drops on the ground. Her breathing grew raspy, her head felt light and her uterus… well…

Dr Berg had the bed ready for her as the door slammed open. Her screaming was audible throughout the whole floor and naturally, he'd assumed his medical expertise was needed. He wasn't quite sure, however, of what to expect until he saw her a sobbing, bloody heap in one of the men's arms. The moment he saw the dried, crusty line of blood going down her ankle from the pants, his heart sank. He knew what was coming. He approached her on the bed. Her eyes were open and moist, but they seemed to be somewhere else. "Zara," he called out her name gently.

"It's alright. I'm alright. I'm alright," she droned on repeatedly with a weak voice that he could barely hear. "Everything's fine. I'm fine. We're fine."

She lay eerily still on the bed, continuing to mumble to herself, as he rummaged through his drawers and got out a syringe and a bottle with some liquid. He carefully drew the liquid into the syringe and administered it to her by the upper arm. And just like that, her rambling grew fainter and fainter until her eyelids fluttered to a close and but a single teardrop fell from the side of her face.

The world was dead quiet when Zara regained consciousness. She'd been in such a deep slumber that she'd almost forgotten where she was. Her vision was still blurry so she rubbed her eyes, struggling to adjust to the darkness. Her whole body felt a little numb, well-pampered by the mattress she lay on. For a moment, the world didn't make any sense even though the room she was in was too familiar – she was back in her cell. She sat upright, letting her feet dangle off the edge of the bed. A feeling of disorientation washed over her and she found it difficult to remember what had happened before she went to sleep. Something just didn't feel right. It wasn't supposed to be a calm moment, something inside her said. She frowned. Her body felt weaker than it did before, effort tugging at her muscles for even the smallest movements.

Sensations gripped her all in an instant. Something foreboding. Her cheeks felt cold, like she'd been crying. Quivering, she put a finger to her eye and felt her eyelashes – damp. That's when she saw it. The dark patches on the ground. She inhaled sharply. Her chest heaved with deep breaths. _What happened?_ She put a hand to her tummy, as if that should glean anything. But she needed to know. She had to know somehow. All this uncertainty was killing her. Suddenly remembering something, her hands fumbled beneath the pillow, pulling out the instrument that had been her only comfort in this dark cell. She put the receiver of the Doppler to her tummy and the speaker to her ear. She flipped the switch. There was that familiar eruption of static. But on top of that, _nothing._ Absolutely nothing.

A choked cry escaped her lips. Her eyes stung and her vision grew blurry again. With a sudden spout of energy, she hurled the instrument against the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces as she let out a hoarse wail. Through all the tears and whimpering, her body shook with grief for the life that she lost, for the part of her soul that was never coming back. It felt like a piece of her had been chipped away and vanished in the annals of space and time. Over and over again, she asked herself how this could have happened. But she knew the answer. It was this God-forsaken place. It was all the stress they'd put her through. It had to be. Her body felt cold, so cold, without even a shred of reassurance. She needed so bad for someone to tell her that it was going to be okay, even when she knew there was no coming back from this. To have loved someone before they even properly existed. To want to give them the world. To find in them the hope and happiness that she couldn't find in herself no matter how hard she tried. All of it, taken from her in one moment. It was like reliving the loss of her beloved archangel child all over again. And it still fucking hurt.

Her mind felt so weak, like it was ready to shatter to a million pieces. Maybe she should just let it. She should just resign to whatever end awaited her in this torture facility. And now that she was no longer pregnant, that was probably exactly what was going to happen. Maybe she was okay with it.

"The doctor will see you now," someone called out from outside the door. Zara feebly tried to cover her eyes, uncomfortable from the sudden introduction of light into her dark sanctuary. Summoning whatever strength she had left, she pulled herself onto her feet and quietly followed where they led her. She didn't know if she dreaded seeing Dr Berg or felt relieved – he would put a name to her new Hell but he would also offer emotional comfort. Whatever it was, she just wanted to be done with it. Anything to get back to sulking in her cell.

As she took a seat, she immediately noticed the leaner man with a fuller head of hair sitting opposite her. Who was he? What was he doing here? He wore a lab coat and stethoscope too. Maybe he was here to assist Dr Berg. He was definitely younger, but not too young – more like a youthful fifty-year old. "Hello, Zara," he greeted her.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked with a brittle voice.

"I'm Dr Williams," the man introduced himself, looking at her through button-like brown eyes. Just a quick glance, it seemed, before returning his gaze to something on a computer screen.

"Where's Dr Berg?" she asked. By now, all her crying had made her face red, especially the tip of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were puffy too and threatened to leak tears again.

"I'm afraid he's a little… indisposed," the doctor answered, his eyes still scanning something on the screen. "He's been granted permission to return home to Britain."

"Why?" Zara wondered, eyebrows creasing. He was the only person here who cared about what happened to her. It didn't seem right that he would just up and leave all of a sudden.

Dr Williams sighed. "He… he said that he couldn't take being a part of this operation anymore. After what just happened to you." So quickly? Wouldn't it only have been a few hours? Or a day at maximum? "The man had a lot of heart. Being old as well, I believe it was best for his physical well-being to call in when he felt like he couldn't handle it anymore."

Zara looked away. This all stank of something horrible. Now even the one person with some semblance of a soul had left her. She looked at the bookshelf, reading briskly the various titles on the book spines to keep her mind occupied. She had an uncomfortable feeling at the pit of her stomach. Then her eyes roved over something. Something small and would have inconspicuous if not for the random chance that she would spot something out of the ordinary. Right there, near her foot, at the leg of the table was a small speck of… blood. Everything else looked so pristine and then that. A spot they missed. Zara's breathing grew erratic. _Oh my God…_ Her heart wanted to give out so bad. Maybe her chest would implode first. Dr Berg didn't leave…

"Shall we begin?" The new doctor typed in a few words and then paused, turning to look at her. "I think, by now, you must be aware of what has happened." If he noticed her visible look of distress, he said nothing. Maybe she'd hidden it too well. Maybe he didn't care. "I deeply regret to inform you that you've lost the baby. Dr Berg tried all that he could but… it was simply too late. Now I've looked at his tests and it is my obligation to tell you what I see. And I must warn you, the truth can be painful." He gave barely a single moment for Zara to process what he'd said before continuing, "In all honesty, the sonograms done show major structural abnormalities associated with sustained drug use. I am aware, after having read past medical reports during your stay here, that you used to smoke and drink. Sadly, I think the nicotine and alcohol that you might have consumed during the early stages of your pregnancy, during which you may not have been aware of it, has led to this."

Even if that were true, it didn't explain why Dr Berg was killed over it. It seemed more likely that Dr Berg got upset and challenged whoever was in charge of this place, which then possibly led to them killing him to cover their tracks. Perhaps he threatened to report this – he did say they had a certain ethical code – to someone who could have done something about it. _Now I'm truly alone…_

"We understand if you're feeling… scarred by this. It's perfectly normal. But your psychological well-being matters…" Zara tuned out the sound of his voice. She didn't believe him for one second. Him and his mannequin eyes. It was all gone. Hope was all gone. Zara was… gone. Her tired eyes glanced up towards the crucifix again. Was this her crucifixion? Jesus bled from his palms and feet. But she… she bled from her womb. And it wasn't even her own blood to shed. This was a faux crucifixion. A laugh in her face from the Almighty God. Maybe God was telling her that she was an idiot for having faith in a fallen angel. Maybe this was God's revenge. Perhaps she was evil after all. An abominable thing, trying to reach for the sky only to stumble off the stool she was standing on and break her neck from the fall.


	62. The Wise King

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter is supposed to take place over a number of days, so I'll not bother with actually providing dates. All the events are interposed with a dialogue and are roughly in chronological order, though we first see one half of each event and then the other half later.

 **Chapter 62: The Wise King**

The air was still. There was only the distant chorus of souls crying out in agony from where Lucifer sat. _Ah… ambience._ It would have been absolutely perfect, were it not for the chains around his limbs and neck, as well as the brace around his head that gagged him too. At least he didn't have Crowley rambling on in front of him like a mosquito in his ear that you couldn't quite get rid of. In this dank and lonely cell, he devoted his thoughts to fantasizing about the best ways to get rid of Crowley. Sure, he could have him killed in an instant, but where was the fun in that? Lucifer craved for something more, something that lasted. Maybe he would crush the demon with his bare hands. Maybe he would remove his fingers, his toes and then work his way up Crowley's limbs until the idiot stopped moving. Maybe he would chain the guy to one of his Hellhounds and play fetch with them. _Oh, all the possibilities!_

Yet, Lucifer couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. What then? After Crowley was dead? He would have lost his only source of entertainment. It sure would be nice to have some company down here… like the warm, comforting presence of… _Snap out of it, Lucifer! She betrayed you._ Lucifer sighed. _At least I have you, don't I, Nick?_ No response from the vessel. Whatever Crowley did to Nick, it made him closed off, like he was trying to hide in a shell. _Come on, dude, we're all we have. Talk to me._

 _L-leave… me… alone…_ Nick's weak voice sounded in his head. Lucifer could almost see the guy cowering in a corner somewhere in his head, rocking back and forth and quivering like a leaf. Normally, the archangel wouldn't care much. After all, it sufficed that the vessel let him in – 'let the human have what he wants in his mind so long as his body is mine to use'. But seeing as his human didn't seem to be getting his end of the bargain, the archangel grew concerned. It was bad etiquette, he thought, to not pay for a service you needed.

 _You know what, buddy? Let me have a look. Let me see what's gotten you so upset,_ Lucifer said to him. Without even waiting for further consent, the archangel plunged into his vessel's mind. _What have you been up to while I was away?_ Layer by layer, he peeled away Nick's mind, permeating every inch, every memory. He saw everything – the depression, the loneliness, the depravity of killing. Admittedly, Lucifer was impressed. And then he stumbled upon a stunning vision of familiarity. _Zara._ He saw how they'd met – with Sophia apparently sending her to find Nick and unite him with his vessel. He also saw how things had turned out… differently. Lucifer narrowed his eyes, evidently irked by what he saw. _You mean… I could have avoided all of this… if not for the both of you?!_ He clenched his fists, ready to tear into any life-form that dared approach him. Sensing this, Nick only cowered more in his own head.

 _I… I tried to warn her…_ Nick interjected. _But it's my fault, really… I should have stopped her…_

 _Oh look at you, trying to defend her. She won't be able to get your dick wet when I find her, you know,_ Lucifer sighed and rolled his eyes. _Can't say I don't understand the impulse, though. But that doesn't get the both of you off the hook._ He thought fondly of all the times he pined for Sophia's attention back in Heaven. All those times they both snuck away when no one was looking, just to get another taste of each other. How they'd found the most obscure of places to do it. How they'd done it longer than they were supposed to, often making up excuses about why they were late for one thing or another. How they'd savoured every inch of each other, how they'd become one with every moment of love-making, how they thought they would just die if they were apart a moment too long… _Stop it! You're torturing yourself._ _Damn you, woman, for making me like this._ Lucifer hurriedly distracted himself with the continued narration of Nick's memories until he reached the finale – the moment they were caught by demons.

He saw the hiccup in their escape. The moment it all went wrong. The moment Crowley found them. Lucifer saw through Nick's eyes, feeling the anxiety and tension as the human knelt on the floor with a knife to his throat, anticipating Zara to appear before him with… a pregnancy test?

Somehow, Nick was convinced from the look on her face that he was going to be a father. _Oh, you tiger, you,_ Lucifer congratulated his vessel. But soon his voice grew grave, resembling nothing of the voice before. The archangel only cared about how it all fit together, having seen what had occurred in some small corner of the world. _Something was taken from me, Nick. Something you and Zara were supposed to have given me. A price will be paid._

 _Don't you hurt her!_ Nick shouted, though his voice was but a tremble to the archangel. _Don't touch her, or the baby or I'll-_

 _You'll what?_ Lucifer smirked. _You'll kick me out? If you haven't noticed…_ Lucifer rattled his chains a little. _We're kind of in this together. And I never said I'd hurt the baby… unless it comes to that. So you better hope it doesn't._ It almost gave him hope, thinking about what he could do with this baby. A child of unmoulded potential, coming from Zara's bloodline – it had to be useful to him somehow. Cutting off Nick's protests, the archangel studied the memory more closely. So a bunch of humans enter, grab Zara and leave. Who were these people? Where did they take her? None of the answers were clear. But there was one thing. One of the men was carrying a briefcase. It was almost unnoticeable to the ordinary eye. Unless, of course, you were one of the most powerful beings in existence. Good thing it was picked up in Nick's memory too. The human mind was capable of storing all sorts of information, only sieving out and bringing to consciousness what it thought was immediately necessary. Lucifer zoomed in on the image. There it was – an Aquarian star enclosed in a circle. He didn't know what to make of it yet, but it seemed important enough to be noticed. Further investigation was needed.

* * *

"It must really burn you, knowing I'm the one who put you in this prison. Me," Crowley preened. He'd graced the cell with his uninvited presence, right on schedule. "I own you, and I have big plans for us."

"Ooh. I'm flattered." Lucifer did a little shoulder shake, mimicking a shiver. "All this hard work, all that...grr! You get 'em, slugger!" He shook a fist, his other hand following passively due to the chains that bound them together. Then he dropped all emotion, staring the demon straight in the eyes. "I'm still gonna peel off your skin and eat your soul."

Crowley huffed, amused. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I mean, it will be… a little bit messy, but…" Lucifer shrugged. "You know, gotta protect the rep. You understand."

"I do. But you, in- in those chains? I mean, forgive me if I'm not quaking in my Testonis." Crowley sauntered over to behind the chair so both of them were facing opposite directions.

"Oh, I think both you and I understand that this…" Lucifer jingled the chains. "It's just a temporary situation."

"Oh, do we?" The demon turned his head slightly towards the angel. "See, I understand that whatever sad little scheme that you're brewing up, I'm already 10 steps ahead."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "And I thought pride was _my_ sin."

"It's not pride. It's fact," Crowley scoffed. "You cross me, I crush you. You hit me, I hit you back twice as hard. And when your Lady Love comes back – or rather _if_ she comes back – she'll get the lovely surprise of seeing you become my bitch."

"Ah, so that's what this is really about," Lucifer stroked his stubbled chin. "What, you're trying to win her over by showing your dominance? Hate to break it to ya, pal, but she's a harder catch than that. Take it from a guy who spent millions of years courting her."

"Hm. As much as I'd like to become her new baby daddy to spite you, I have an entirely different plan for her," Crowley mused. "And don't worry. You're still the centre of my attention."

"Oh you do know how to sweet-talk a man, Mr Crowley," Lucifer exhaled flirtatiously, fanning himself with a hand. "You know, clarify one thing for me. What actually makes you think you're fit for _my_ throne?"

"Because, I'm clearly a better King than you will ever be. And I'm certainly better than Queen Sophia," Crowley stated.

"Queen Sophia…" Lucifer repeated under his breath. "Has such a great ring to it, don't ya think?"

Ignoring that, Crowley continued, "First of all, I'm innovative. None of that fire-and-brimstone crap is effective anymore. A good King has to get with the times. I can say with a fair bit of certainty that Hell has become that much more intolerable after I changed the whole format."

"If I can't make her a queen, I could at least make my son a prince," Lucifer continued to mutter softly, thinking about all the things he wished to impart to his young one.

"Secondly, I'm just. And by that I mean I crush my enemies. Other than the shining example of you, I've been proactive… taking action to destroy anyone who's ever stood in the way of my greatness," he said, delightfully remembering one of his recent orders.

 _The sun had been blaring down on the metal junkyard of the Singer Salvage Yard. It was quiet without a soul in sight. That being the difference between life and death. Sam and Dean crept between two lines of rusty, beat-down cars, keeping as silent as they could. Cautiously, Dean risked a peek through the windowless gap of a car door. There were too many of them. Too many demons. If it wasn't for the persistent feeling at the back of his chest that something just wasn't right that day, he and his brother could have been sitting ducks while the demons surrounded the house on all sides. Luckily, they'd gotten out through the back door just in time to avoid being spotted by the black-eyed suckers. There looked to be at least a dozen of them, heavily-armed. Within no time, they'd all switched to search mode and panned out to look for the boys. There was no way two Winchesters could take on that many demons, especially in a close-range distance without any of their weapons. The Impala was their best bet. Unfortunately, some of the demons thought so too. Some of them patrolled the yard, keeping an eye on the car._

" _I know how we can weed them out," one demon maliciously posited. Sinister smiles exchanged, the demon disappeared and reappeared with something large strapped to his back. While the boys took the opportunity to inch away further from the house and closer to the car, the demon pointed something connected to a large cylinder on his back towards the house as he went inside. Then the air fell still again. Sam didn't know what to expect. But he only knew that whatever happened next, he'd have to get revenge on Crowley. For what he did to their home. Smoke filled the air, piling out of every window, every hole in the building. The flames glinted off Dean's emerald eyes as he watched in horror. Had they been a moment too late… Out of the fire emerged the demon with the flamethrower, now surveying the yard with an infernal carpet. As they watched the house erupt in fire, they couldn't help but feel a stab of loss at everything that was being taken from them right before their eyes. Bobby's possessions which they consulted in times of need, their memories of what they called a family, their home… All that was left was a strange sense of disambiguation._

 _But there was no time to grieve. The troop of demons fanned out, sparing no inch of the yard. Time to move. The boys kept low, looking about themselves every now and then to keep out of sight. Once they neared the garage where the Impala was, they needed a new plan. It had to be a rather simple one, considering they didn't have a lot of options. Hefting a spare metal piece from a nearby car, Sam swung his arm, hurling the object at another car far away. A loud clank sounded, distracting the demons. They approached the noise, eager to investigate the possibility of curtailing the two Winchesters before they could escape. Seizing the chance, the boys made a break for the car, practically jumping into their seats. That certainly drew the demons' attention and they started hissing and yelling at the car. Amidst all the ruckus, Dean managed to start the car and jam the pedal, taking off against all odds. As soon as they were on the open road, far from the frenzy of the Hell mooks, they finally heaved a sigh of relief. Yet they were both rightly shaken, the future seeming more uncertain than ever. They had both been so, so wrong in underestimating the danger that they were in. Something had to be done about it._

"Thirdly, I know how to secure allies in the right places," Crowley carried on, listing out his successes as King. "After all, you can only make peace with your enemies and war isn't always the most profitable way to deal with them. Throw 'em a little bait from time to time and they'll give you the world."

"So you say…" Lucifer mildly disagreed, becoming disenchanted with the conversation already. He thought it a good way to get his bearings; see what Crowley had been up to in case any opportunities. But all this gloating and self-praise was still bile-inducing.

 _Castiel sipped on a cup of coffee, studying the red and white aesthetic of this Biggerson's with a bored curiosity. This was his current safe haven. He'd been successful so far, staying out of radar. He just had to avoid them long enough. But for how long? Until what? What was he supposed to do with the tablet? Castiel shook his head as though to snap himself out of it._ We can worry about that later, _he thought to himself._ First things first.

" _Sorry, mister, but you're gonna have to order more than just coffee if you wanna keep the table," a bubbly young lady told him. Castiel regarded her for a moment – this innocent young human. It reminded him of why he did what he did. To protect them. This infant species that was just beginning to live up to its true potential now that it didn't have its fate sealed by a death-match between two archangels. For all of humanity, and indeed for this dutiful young woman, Castiel would stay strong. Do whatever needed to be done to protect the tablet._

" _Of- Of course," he glanced at the menu, picking out the first option that his eyes laid rest on. "I'll have the smart-heart beer-battered tempura tempters."_

" _Of course, coming right up," she smiled positively at him again before heading off into the kitchen._

 _Castiel glanced at the clock. It was time. He flew away, teleporting to another branch of Biggerson's. By now he'd memorised the location of every single one of them, switching his position among them in such a periodic manner that his teleportation was practically instantaneous and required little focus. The faster he moved, the more he appeared to be in the same position. It was almost like a flipbook with drawings on each page that moved like a small movie when you flipped the pages fast from front to back. For an angel of his calibre, achieving quantum superposition was easy enough. What must have been challenging was actually coming up with the idea. But ever since he'd touched the tablet, breaking Naomi's spell over him, Castiel felt reinvigorated. He felt feelings he didn't quite recall feeling before. All this creativity, this wealth of perspective flowing through him – it seemed so unheard of for the typical angel. Was it the tablet feeding information to him? Or was it simply that he had been reset to factory settings? So this… this is what being an angel truly felt like…_

" _You… you have to stop…" a female voice begged him, drained of energy. Castiel stopped abruptly, retaining his seat. His eyes, fixed on the table, were captured by the smear of blood on his cup of coffee. That's when the smell of burnt human flesh and spilt blood reached his keen senses. Horrified, he looked away, coming face to face with his former waitress who was hanging onto dear life on the floor. She was one among several decimated human corpses. She was the only one still breathing. She quivered in fear, helplessly moaning in pain, though it had to be some relief that her eyes were so badly charred that she couldn't witness the sheer brutality of the scene before her. "They said you have to stop…"_

" _No…" Castiel sighed, filled with remorse. His anguished eyes welled up with sympathy for her._

" _Just stop… you have to stop…" she kept repeating it like a mantra._

 _Castiel reached out two fingers, desiring to heal her and put her out of her pain. The feeling of cold metal rested against his throat. He froze, a sense of impending doom washing over him._

" _You have to stop… they said you have to stop-" A snap of fingers sounded. Just like that, the woman's head twisted at an odd angle and she just fell limp on the floor, dead and silent._

" _Can't hear myself think," the unmistakable voice of Naomi could be heard._

"Making your allies happy means they'll make you happy," Crowley explained to the bored archangel, who simply yawned and took an interest in his nails. "Last but certainly not the least, I know how to be opportunistic. And opportunism is a strange thing – you may have to let down some people to give someone else what they want. It's all about knowing which allies are more important – which ones can give you what you truly desire. A tough decision for most, I'm sure, but I know I have my priorities straight."

 _It was a cloudy day in Britain. One moment, the sky was white and the next, visible dots appeared and grew larger. A sniper sat on the roof, aiming his rifle upwards to take a closer look at the disturbance. His breath grew rapid. It looked like… people were descending from the sky. If it hadn't been for his training with the Men of Letters, he would have done something stupid like shoot bullets at the angels. Instead, he ran into the building and used the emergency telephone. "This is Muller, reporting a code 15. Hostiles approaching. About twenty of them. Angels!" he desperately yelled into the receiver. Cutting the call, he smashed the glass of the alarm, casting the whole building into a state of alert._

 _The angels took their time, so self-assured that nothing could be done to stop them. With the bond of temporary cooperation towards a shared goal, Naomi and Raziel rallied their supporters. Taking position, the small army of angels – consisting of a trusted few on both their sides to make up a force of about two dozen strong – channelled the power of Heaven, harnessing it into a ball of light in their hands. Inside the building, the Men of Letters rushed about, preparing for the incoming attack. They armed themselves with all they could find. Though they were somewhat prepared to take on angels, none of them had actually fought one. In fact, they only had a rudimentary understanding offered to them by the two angels they had bound and trapped within the facility, courtesy of the King of Hell. Their research had gone so well, revealing so much insight about the ways angels worked and what happened to their vessels. The same enthusiasm could not be shared by Sarah and Marcus, the two missing angels who were chained on all their limbs, left hanging in the centre of laboratories designed to contain them._

 _Anxiously, a blond woman looked out of a window at the sky. The angels were still, ominously maintaining a circular formation and still far enough away that they could not be hit by anything or even banished by a sigil. The woman, trembling, reached for her phone and composed a goodbye text to her husband, a man who she'd only known through the organisation she worked for. He, just like her, worked on an important operation except he was stationed in the US – he was helping out with the investigation of the archangel vessel. "I love you, Tom," the message ended and she hit send._

 _Meanwhile, the head of the facility – an aged man with a fit physique but salt-and-pepper hair – hastily composed a distress message to the home office in London. He requested everything they had – armies, weapons, anything. They were desperate. All their machines were going crazy in lieu of the crazy electromagnetic field being generated. The earth shook, knocking the humans off their feet. They could barely hold their balance and in all the rumble, anything could happen. Glass broke and instruments short-wired, sending sparks flying. These moments were short. No peace lasted long enough for thought. And then, thunder chorused in one deafening wave. Up in the sky, the angels united their efforts and sent it all down in one protracted blast. A mighty smiting. They sent it straight down the centre of the building, annihilating any magical protection that might have been afforded to it by the work of the Men of Letters. Every single living thing in the immediate radius burned to a crisp. There was no mercy for violating the servants of Heaven in such a manner, no matter the reason – especially so if it was to steal the secrets of angels and Heaven. Secrets that were not for any human to learn._

* * *

"So you see," Crowley had a triumphant glint in his deep brown eyes. "With the right insight and control over the right people, I've become practically invincible. Don't need wings, don't need Daddy Issues. Just little old me to rule the world."

"Hm. I'll give you props, kid. You got ambition. That's more than what most have," Lucifer's lips curved up into a sympathetic smile, the kind you give a toddler who drew something utterly hideous but still sort of resembled what they were aiming for anyway. "And innovation? Fine, creativity does make things interesting. After all, you can't spend an eternity just churning out the same old…" He waved a hand dismissively. "But I can't say I agree with you on all that. See, here's the fundamental difference between you and me: ruling… it comes naturally to me. I don't need all these compromises, all these… _uncontrolled variables_ to get me to where I want. I just take it! Or rather, the world bends over for me." He laughed despite himself. "Who cares about war and peace? It's all about enjoying myself. I mean, now that Michael's in the cage, Raphael and Gabriel are dead… the world is my canvas!"

Crowley smirked. "And as long as you believe that wholeheartedly, I'll always be ahead of you. My plans… they're all set in motion, turning like cogs in a machine. So maybe I should thank you… for being the embodiment of pride as you are," he said self-assuredly.

"It's not pride, Crowley, it's a fact. Let me tell you what I know," Lucifer laced his fingers together. "There is only one force in the world that matters – power. Might. _Majesty_. Power is currency. And being the most powerful player on the board right now, I am destined to reap the fruits of this world. Which I fully intend to do, especially now that I'm a family man. Gotta bring in the bread, if you know what I mean."

"You still don't get it do you?" Crowley's eyebrows crinkled in a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. "You've already lost. You've lost support as King, you've lost your family and most importantly, you've lost freedom. Maybe you're still in denial, Lucifer, but let me be the one to assure you: _You've lost!_ "

"And you don't seem to be getting what _I'm_ saying," Lucifer rolled his eyes and pulled a hand down his face. "I don't know how to make it clearer to you, you poor, doomed little thing. Maybe I should use simpler words. Ah, think about the stars." The archangel used a more dramatic voice, impersonating a new-age spiritualist. " _The stars are aligning in my favour._ I can feel it. And sadly, that only brings in bad luck for you. I mean, whatever plans you have, from what you've been telling me, it sounds like you're putting a little too much faith in other people. These people you call your… _allies…_ "

 _Scouring through the wreckage, the angels found their missing brethren lying under a pile of rubble. Sarah and Marcus were barely breathing, having been also struck by the smiting. But they persisted, the shallow up-and-down of their chests indicating that they'd held on long enough to be found alive. Naomi gave Raziel a knowing look and they both exchanged a nod._

" _Shemsiel, take the others and go look for their hard drives," Raziel ordered his team._

" _But-" Shemsiel meant to protest, not trusting at all the fate of these two angels at Naomi's hands after learning what happened to Samandriel._

" _Now, go," Raziel insisted, shooting a non-negotiable glare at the angel. Seeing them go off, Raziel cursorily glanced at Naomi, who was in turn expecting Raziel to leave too. This was part of the agreement. When Naomi came in with news that she knew where the missing angels had been held, they'd struck a deal that they'd embark on the operation together, with Naomi 'taking care' of the angels while Raziel destroyed the information the Men of Letters had collected. A proper division of labour, like they were always meant to have with each of them doing what they were supposed to do. With another nod, Raziel went off to join his team. Just as Naomi fully intended to do what Raziel wouldn't approve of behind his back, Raziel had the same intention._

 _As soon as Raziel was out of sight, Naomi performed her justice, executing the two angels like she had Samandriel. And as soon as Raziel was far enough away from Naomi, he gathered all the hard drives and instead of destroying them like he was supposed to, he stowed them away in his office for later investigation. That night, the five knowledge keepers combed through the hard drives, taking note of what was revealed to the Men of Letters in their investigation. And that was when they hit jackpot. There were a few references to something taking place in the US. Something you would only notice if you knew what you were looking for. One thread of memos, dated from December of the previous year to January of the current year, read:_

 _"Being an angel-specific vessel, the subject shows a greater resonance than the vessels that are currently being studied in Britain – we may be able to isolate the specific frequency of the archangel Sophia, which has implications for location devices… Subject appears to be susceptible to rationalising pressures though she still suffers from delirium induced by the long-term occupation of an archangel… A permanent mark in the psychology and electromagnetic output of the subject inflicted by the archangel appears to be making her resistant to rehabilitation… Initiate high-stress treatment but consult with laboratories in Britain as to what standard measurements are to be taken."_

 _As the angels read on, various expressions of horror filled their faces as they found small little details of experiments they did. But really, it was the last update that chilled them to the bone: "We no longer require the 'safe' tests. Subject is no longer pregnant. Requesting new medical consultant since the last one decided the life of an unstable prisoner was more important than the fate of the whole world."_

 _To that, the reply was: "Finally. We thought you lot would never get on with it. Will forward your request to the higher-ups."_

" _Oh my God," Pahaliah gasped from her position among the others behind Raziel as they read from his laptop screen. "This is vile."_

" _It is," Raziel agreed, eyes glued to the screen. "We can't ever let Naomi get close to her. Not in this state."_

" _Allies…_ they always have their own agenda," Lucifer remarked. "It really is a fine line that separates your allies and your enemies, don't ya think?" For a moment, Crowley thought of the botched Quartum operation with Naomi and then immediately dismissed the thought from his head, as if considering that as evidence would mean he assented to what the archangel said. "And sometimes… sometimes they're just careless. You give them an opportunity, and they find some way to muck that up. Even worse, their mistakes could affect another part of your plan! Your perfect web of influence in the world, controlling every part of it… just torn apart because someone wasn't paying attention. You know what they say: if you want something done, do it yourself."

 _Naomi stood impatiently in front of Castiel, arms crossed as her henchman Ion searched all the Biggerson's. When he came back with nothing, she stared daggers at the guilty angel sitting before her. "Why? Why are you doing this?" she asked, somewhat flustered. "Let us put the tablet where it should be."_

" _I need to protect it," Castiel muttered, jaw clenched as he returned the iron gaze._

" _From the angels?"_

" _From all of us," he answered truthfully._

" _I'm just going to have to pull you apart, aren't I?" Naomi wondered._

 _As she made to approach him, Castiel panicked, his defensive instincts flaring up. In that moment, he felt a fire burning within him, fed by the very blaze of fear and panic that overwhelmed him. A bright flash of light erupted, blinding even the angels. Disoriented, Naomi covered her eyes and stumbled backwards. The next moment, everything was silent again. And Castiel – gone. It was the tablet, responding to his need to get away. He felt himself being pulled away, launched through space until he finally landed on solid ground. He'd escaped. For now._

"And my point on power is more important than you think," Lucifer continued, holding Crowley's cynical attention. "There are things in this world… things of unimaginable power that can stand in your way. The only way to deal with them is by being more powerful than they are and making them yours to possess and use. Same thing with allies. The only way that works out is if they're your slaves. Following your orders unquestioningly and in fear of you. Without that… it's only a matter of time."

"I think I've got the enslaving part down," Crowley eyed Lucifer's chains up and down.

"Oh I'm not your slave," Lucifer clarified, narrowing his killer gaze on the demon. "I'm a storm waiting to be unleashed."

"I'll make you watch, you know. As I conquer the world. I'll prove you wrong. Remember the last time all of Hell saw you? On that bridge in Duluth? How none of them stepped forward to help you? That's just a prelude of what's to come," Crowley warned.

"About that," Lucifer raised a finger. "I've been thinking about that a lot. I mean, there's no way all those demons were going to listen to you but they did anyway. How'd you do it?" He was genuinely curious. But on top of that, if he could get Crowley talking about it, he could find a way to break his hold over the demons. "It can't have been your charisma because… you were standing next to me… I mean… self-explanatory," he shrugged. "Ooh, was it that broad you had with you? The witch? Did she help you put them under a spell?" Lucifer slowly nodded, the pieces falling into place. "But for a spell to work on demons, it would need something to give it that extra _push_ … like a potion or a drug. Which is it?"

The longer Crowley hesitated, the longer he realised he was confirming Lucifer's suspicions. Better to be out with it, then. Not like it mattered now, with everything that had transpired since then. "Quartum," he answered.

"Ah, the opiate of the masses," Lucifer recognised. "Can't say I haven't tried my fair share of… substances. Sophia and I just couldn't help ourselves, especially with the old green stuff. You know, the uh- the catnip… mary jane…" Crowley rolled his eyes. " _Weed._ I'm talking about weed. Don't tell my Dad." He giggled at the memory. "But _Quartum?_ Wow. That stuff was strong. And you got it from Heaven? The angels mustn't have been too happy about that."

"No, they weren't. But that's why having _allies_ helps," Crowley rebutted.

"And how'd that work for you, huh? I'm surprised you haven't tried giving me some. Could knock me right out of this plane of existence," Lucifer smirked. "Unless, of course, you don't have any. What happened? Did something go wrong?"

"Like I'd reveal details of my operations to you," Crowley shot back.

"Tsk tsk," Lucifer shook his head once. "See, I told you, it's only a matter of time. And time…" He drummed two fingers against his jaw. "Time is such a strange thing. Time irons out all the wrinkles. Time… favours those who've been patient. And me… I've been waiting a long time."

 _In a motel room, the Winchesters were getting ready to start the day. Sam was fixing his hair. Dean was tying his shoelaces. The week had been slow, without a case in sight. Considering they'd been so focussed on staying out of sight of demons and keeping their heads on their shoulders, a case would have been a fine distraction. Finally tired of waiting, they decided to take a much-needed break. But the universe had different plans for them._ Thud! _A men fell out of a closet, snapping them both into defensive positions. "Which of you is John Winchester?" the stranger demanded._

"As if that entitles you to anything," Crowley mocked. "Last time I heard, the universe doesn't give out freebies."

"Who said anything about free?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Nothing is ever free. I'll only reap what I've sown." Crowley scrutinised the self-possessed angel. What was it that made him so confident? Ultimately, however, it didn't matter. Crowley had planned for all sorts of contingencies. There was no way Lucifer would escape. And then his phone rang. "Phone," Lucifer pointed out.

Walking over to the back of the cell, Crowley answered the phone. Some desperate rambling sounded from the other end of the line. "Wait, wait, _what?_ Come again?" Crowley looked positively befuddled.

" _Sir, it's Abaddon. Knight of Hell. She's been spotted,"_ the informant told him. A small smile crept across Lucifer's face.

"Get the others. I'll be there," Crowley ended the call.

"Trouble in paradise?" Lucifer asked, wiping away that malicious smile in favour of feigned concern.

"As much as I'd love to carry on this fascinating conversation, I have business to attend to." Crowley picked up the bridle and held it open to get it on the archangel.

"Don't be long now," Lucifer managed to say before Crowley locked the brace around his head, muffling his speech with the metal gag. _Abaddon, huh?_

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 12 February 2012, Some time…**_

This was far worse. Far, far worse. There was nothing but blackness. It felt like the nothingness was moving. But how could that be? It's… nothing. Weird amorphous forms seemed to spawn from the walls – again, what walls? First it was fingertips. Then a palm. Then a hand jutting out. Zara breathed rapidly. What the hell was she seeing? There was no one here. Her skin felt warm, like there was a burning sensation just underneath. She herself felt light, floating in space. This was the furthest she'd gone. The most vivid of her experiences in the tank. It was almost like she was in another realm, another universe, altogether. Though she couldn't quite place where she was, she felt like she should know it.

An arm emerged from the hand. A shoulder emerged from the arm. Then a torso, legs and a head. Zara gasped. There were things she wanted to say – an exclamation, maybe. Or just a simple "What the actual fuck is going on?". But her mind was eerily blank. And her mouth… it felt sealed shut. Just like every other sense. No sound, no sensation – just this astral hallucination. The person-thing took notice of her. It had no eyes – or any other facial features, for that matter – but Zara just _knew_ that it was looking at her. If she could feel something, she knew the appropriate sensation would be the hairs standing on ends all over her body. Her chest felt tight. She backed away. But the thing only moved closer. It took small, measured steps, stopping whenever she did. An incision of sorts opened on its face and a weird static noise came out. As Zara concentrated, frozen in her step, she realised that the thing was speaking to her.

"You're…" the thing began. Its voice drawled, sounding sharp yet smooth like some sort of snake. "… a… long…" Zara squinted, focusing really hard. This thing was giving her a message? "…way… from… home…" She frowned. Where the hell was she? "… Zara…"

Zara screamed but she couldn't hear her own voice. She thought she felt air being expelled from her lungs but why was there no sound? Try as she might, the stretch in her vocal chords produced no communication of panic. And that was an even greater source of panic. A sudden jolt pulled her away. Things were pulled off of her. She gasped, gulping large volumes of fresh air. Her eyes widened so much they worried her eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. Her voice was raspy as she uttered noises, surprised that she could say or hear anything at all. Even sight was confusing. Her sense of self was confusing. This realm had a completely different feel to it. The other one… felt easy. Wait, no, that sounded weird. _Easy? What did I mean, easy?_ Self-awareness returned to her like a spirit possessing her. Zara's head swivelled and she recognised the long cylindrical tank below the metal-grated floor. _Sensory deprivation, right._ That must have been the longest she'd ever been in there.

"What did you see in there?" Toni stood over her. For a moment, Zara almost didn't recognise her. It took her a few seconds for everything to come back to her. Someone wrapped a towel around her.

"I-" She was cut off before she could finish her sentence. Every muscle in her body tensed up at once. Like being rudely ejected from the driver's seat, her muscles had a life of their own, relaxing all of a sudden in an instantaneous cool wave. Then they tensed again, clenching so tightly she feared that she might implode if she could string a coherent thought in her head. They cooled again. This went on for what felt like forever – this cycle of tensing and relaxing. Zara couldn't feel herself anymore – not just her body but her _self._ _Can't. Control. Anything._ There were no words to describe the panic of feeling imprisoned in your own body. It was a strange feeling to say the least – knowing that there are all these subjective experiences but having no way of connecting all of them to yourself as the experiencer. The research staff backed away, allowing her body to convulse freely. After all, it was dangerous to get in the way of someone experiencing a seizure.

Toni watched in a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Things had escalated so quickly. There had been little time for her to think. Really think about what she was doing. She wasn't a cold-hearted monster, that much she knew. Or so she kept telling herself. She had a son waiting for her back home. A son she hadn't spoke to in nearly two weeks. A son she missed dearly. But work had to come first. Now everyone back at Headquarters was more eager than before, waiting for more "serious" results. How could they be so… cold? She'd just witnessed a woman miscarry under her own supervision. Guilt gnawed at her. But it wasn't her fault. Again, something she kept telling herself to sleep at night. It wasn't just her tests. Someone up high wanted this to happen. It wasn't an official order – no, that was unethical – but it had been implied in some way or another that this abortion was desired and necessary. It was also why it was so easy to cover up Dr Berg's death – someone didn't mind losing an esteemed member of the Men of Letters, so long as it got them unimpeded access to the knowledge minefield that was Zara Joshi's mind.

 _Unfortunate things happen. It's part of the job,_ she told herself as she waited for the new medical consultant to come in with the seizure meds. Zara's face was pale, pigment lost from months without sunlight. But there was something about her in that moment. Toni looked more closely, daring to approach her side. Her eyes… the brown was fading. Little by little, the colour seemed to be lost. Until it suddenly transitioned to a bright green. No ordinary green too – a glowing, celestial green. Her irises pulsed between this colour and her normal brown like some kind of alarm. _That's weird…_ Toni was captivated. She'd never seen anything like it before. Something strange was going on. Something strange and new. It felt weird to be on the cusp of a great discovery yet fear for its eventual coming. What frightening secrets of the universe lay beyond Zara's foreign eyes?

Watching all of this from afar was Tom. He stood, unmoving, behind a glass window of the control room. His jaw clenched and he gulped. Things were getting… difficult for him as well. He tried to put the thought out of his mind. The sadness was becoming too much. But everyone knows that the more you try not think of something, the more you actually do. His fingers trembled, hesitating as they paused mid-way to his pocket. Then, relenting to the pressure, he fished out his phone. The muscles on his face twitched, threatening to make him sob like he had been for several nights now. A few button clicks later, he was back on the screen, reading the same text again for the hundredth time. A goodbye text from Laura. A final farewell before she was slaughtered. Mercilessly burnt to a crisp. His wife, wiped off the planet like dust swept away by the wind.

All that was left for him to do was think. Think and work and cry. There was no respite for him other than this. And in all his contemplation, the one thought that kept returning to him was contagion. Sadness, ill-luck, loss of sensation, what have you – it seemed to spread like a disease. Zara's fate – her desperate, pained aura – was affecting all of them. Like some kind of Butterfly Effect, her experiences had made this happen. An angel's vessel crying out in pain. Did the universe hear her? Through all this warding? Tom almost huffed. Now it seemed almost ridiculous to him that a bunch of man-made drawings on cement could actually keep cosmic order from operating. Yet he had believed it for so long, just like his colleagues. That they, as humans, could learn something from the divine. That they could interact with it. That they could _control_ it.

That girl right there – the one who stopped moving when Dr Williams jabbed a syringe into her neck – was somehow tied to it all. And it wasn't her fault. He could see that much. Doing all these things to her, pushing her to the limits of human sanity… the universe didn't like that. The universe was fighting back. His wife died because the universe fought back. This wasn't right. But what could he do about it? Tom clenched his fist. The Men of Letters took a massive gamble with Zara and _he_ paid for it. What he felt right then was an ambiguous amalgamation of anger and helplessness. Heaving a deep, dense breath, Tom left the room, preparing to go on a Chupacabra hunt to clear his head.

* * *

An uncertain 'click' sounded. Lucifer perked up, awaiting the entrance of his soon-to-be demon punching bag. But the slow, cautious opening of the door indicated otherwise. The door was now fully open, revealing two gaping demons who were most definitely not Crowley. Their eyes widened, their jaw permanently dropped as they beheld the sight before them. _Bingo, opportunity._ "Hi guys," Lucifer waved, though his voice was muffled by the gag.

"My Lord," the demon named Tommy greeted, falling to his knees immediately. "I'm not worthy."

"Hm." Lucifer was unamused. He was expecting more of uhm… getting out of these chains as quickly as possible.

"We knew it," Lionel, the darker demon, proclaimed proudly. "We knew Crowley was up to something!"

"Mmvhmmvv," Lucifer nodded, eager to get on with it.

"I mean, the way he was acting?" Lionel elaborated with a confidence that Lucifer already found annoying. "And how he snuffed out everyone who was part of the Cage project? Except for his little porcelain doll witch, of course."

"Uhvvff-huungghh," Lucifer continued to nod and garble, gesturing for them to get his cuffs off.

"And a lot of us really don't like Crowley. It used to be that we could agree with him on everything, which… felt kinda weird to be honest," Lionel continued. Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. "Then it just felt like our support for him wore off. Like cheap perfume. Now we know we don't like Crowley. He's very prancy."

"Uh-huh," Lucifer widened his eyes in demanding anticipation. _Worthless minions of my making…_

"And then someone spotted Abaddon," Tommy reported enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up with hope. "A Knight of Hell, here, in our time? It was the perfect distraction for us to see what he was hiding."

Lucifer nodded in assent. _Yes, yes, that's good and all. Moving on…_

"We hoped… We knew it could only be you," Tommy said, opal eyes almost sparkling, if that was possible.

"And we brought this," Lionel brandished a ring of keys from his pocket.

Lucifer's expression lit up upon seeing the jingling metal. "Gvvff vveee auvvff hergghe," he continued his garbled attempt at speech, again holding out his wrists for them to do as they were bid.

"But before we uh- before we let you out, we have a few… well, I wouldn't call them demands exactly," Lionel half-tilted his head.

"Hmmvvff?" Lucifer frowned.

"I want jurisdiction over an American city of my choosing," Lionel began, straightening his tie. "To do as I please, of course. Then I want a troop of bodyguards and servants. After all, holding my presence as demon-in-charge of a whole city will have its challenges. Oh, and lastly, you will grant me a thousand souls per year and you will anoint me…" the demon snickered in excitement. "… the new King of the Crossroads."

Lucifer nodded passively, his bored eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head.

"Great," the demon gave him a toothy grin. He then turned to his friend. "Hey, Tommy, you want anything?"

"The only thing I care about is making Hell great again," Tommy said with as sincere a tone as possible. He even maintained a respectful stance, keeping one palm over the back of his other hand as he stood.

Lucifer chuckled through his gag, pointing and showing support for the demon's sentiment.

A momentary confusion eclipsed Lionel's face but soon dispelled. "Alright, let's do this," he announced. With a nimble work of the fingers, the shackles soon came off. "There we go, my Lord."

With a relieved grin, Lucifer got up and stretched his limbs. "Oh- Ohh, that feels so good," he moaned as a cool wave of energy spread through him. _Finally._ Then, he did what had to be done. His hand seized Lionel's neck, pulling him so close that the demon could feel the frustration seeping off the archangel.

"We- we had a deal!" Lionel protested, eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Did we?" Lucifer mocked a sympathetic expression. With a snap of his fingers, there was a _poof_ and that was it. The demon was gone in a cloud of dissolving black smoke. Dropping all emotion, he turned to the other demon. "Sorry, kid, you understand, right? No witnesses or anything?"

The demon bowed his head and approached the archangel, zealously awaiting his sentence. "Yes, take me. Oh Fallen One, my life is yours to devour!"

Lucifer paused, almost grimacing. "See, now you just made it weird." But the demon didn't seem to pick up on his discomfort. "But wait." A new thought occurred to him. "I may have a job for you."

* * *

Crowley's shoulders were light as a feather as he made his way back to the throne room. All that worrying was for nothing. The Winchesters had taken care of it, as usual. For all their flaws, he had to hand it to the Hardy Boys for taking care of a mutual problem. And this wasn't the first time Crowley had them doing his bidding either. They always seemed to fall for it from time to time. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that his idiot goons missed their first and best opportunity to get rid of the Winchesters. Still, they were a recurring problem and had to go. Smirking, the demon King pushed open the doors, awaiting a moment of peace on his throne. He froze in his step, narrowing his eyes at the lone intruder. There, casually sitting with a leg slung over an armrest was none other than the Dark Prince himself. Cautiously, Crowley dared approach the archangel with small steps.

A satisfied grin on his face, Lucifer promptly sprung to his feet and stepped forward to face his adversary with a self-assured bounce in his step. "Now, what was that you were saying about always being two steps ahead?" he challenged. His eyes regarded the demon briefly before he swung an arm at Crowley, sending him reeling backwards. Lucifer let out a deep, bellowing laugh as he displayed his large, magnificent wings. His arms extended outwards majestically as he felt the power rising within him and emitting a powerful glow that lit up the whole room. "Buh-bye, Crowley."

From his submissive position on the stone floor, Crowley's face contorted with fear, only feeding into Lucifer's enjoyment of the moment. But just then, like a flip of the switch, he dropped all emotion with nothing but a crooked smile curling his lips up on one side. "That's not what I said," he spat out through a bleeding lip. His face radiated with pain where he'd been struck but the mere anticipation of what was to come made him savour it. After all, it would be the last real show of power this arrogant prick would have for himself. Crowley snapped his fingers. Lucifer's glow cut off abruptly, hurling darkness back into the room.

"Huh? What the-" Lucifer reached at his back, suddenly conscious of the loss of his wings. _Where'd they go?_ Try as he might, he couldn't summon them back out of his body. A small tingle of concern arose at the back of his mind. His wings… they were a part of him that he was supposed to be able to control.

Crowley pulled himself onto his feet, dusting off his coat. "I'm glad you had a little taste of freedom. What I said was, I'm always _10_ steps ahead," he clarified. "I said you cross me, I crush you. You hit me…" Crowley snapped his fingers again. A 'crack' was audible and Lucifer doubled over, groaning in agony. _What the hell is this?_ "… I hit you back twice as hard." Again, with another snap of Crowley's fingers, Lucifer was thrown into another fit of pain, coming from his ribs this time. Seething, the archangel glared at the demon through fury. _Oh this is too much. I'm coming for you, bastard. I'll make you feel pain in every way I know how to inflict it. And that is a lot._ "That chain around your neck?" Crowley continued, walking around the archangel towards the throne. "That was nothing. A stylish accessory. This vessel… That's your true prison. It's been warded with runes and spellwork from the Cage, carved into every molecule. In there? _I own you._ " The demon sighed, chest relaxing with satisfaction. "I'm just getting started. So… I'm gonna put you back in your hole, and then I'm gonna destroy your mind inch by inch until you're nothing but a drooling mess. A shadow of your former self. And then? I'm still just getting started."

* * *

A/N:

Whew, I hope that was easy to follow. Episodes featured: As Time Goes By, The Great Escapist, Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell. This may seem like a lot of repetition, but it's an important set up for the next major arc to come. Hope you'll bear with me until all Hell breaks loose!


	63. Under Pressure

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 63: Under Pressure**

 _ **British Men of Letters, London Headquarters – 14 February 2012, 10.40am**_

Dr Hess sat uncomfortably on her lavish, cushioned chair at her large wooden desk. She'd been like this for a good part of an hour, elbows on the armrests and fingers held together in a steeple. All that filled her mind was the gruesome massacre that had occurred just over a week ago. A smiting from Heaven. How many people had been lost that day? The incident had shaken the organisation to the core, drawing doubt and grief from members of all ranks. There was no way to consolidate all the losses from the incident. Nearly a hundred people unrecognisably burnt, the two prized angels lost and all the experimental data mysteriously vanished. Sure, they had a copy of the data in their main office building, but it didn't include everything – the most recent data from January had not yet been sent. And considering that the angels now knew what the Men of Letters had been doing, Dr Hess could not help but wonder if the US operation was in danger.

She had considered sending more personnel over in the case of another attack but then paused. Would it really be worth it to go to battle with angels? Beings who were mighty and powerful and barely understood by humanity? Sure, the Men of Letters had their tools, but could they really stand a chance against a whole troop of angels? The recent massacre seemed to show otherwise. But little other options remained. She could not let them get their hands on Zara. Zara was theirs to study. A wealth of information still remained to be uncovered from her. Dr Hess would not let the angels get her. But what was next? She fiddled with her phone in her hand, unsure of whether this was the right thing to do. She straightened up in her chair, mustering willpower and dialling a three-digit number on the keypad. A few rings passed. "Do you have a moment?" she said into the phone.

"For you, darling, always," the demon promptly appeared before her in her office, phone still held to his ear. He put it away now that he was here, though he kept the suggestive smile. "Why, I'd love to be your valentine."

Dr Hess suppressed a grimace. "I need to discuss an important matter."

"Don't you always," Crowley sighed, walking over to a side-table to help himself to a glass of scotch. "It's never to just talk or have a heart-to-heart over tea."

"Last week, one of our facilities was under attack. By angels," she stated, her grey eyes studying his body language.

"Yes, I heard. Tragic," Crowley swirled the glass in his hand. "My condolences."

"Ever since, I've been… puzzled by the whole debacle. You see, this attack seems to have come… out of the blue. I don't quite understand it," she said, getting up and walking over to the side of her table to stand closer to him. "I mean, why would they attack us? Why now? We've had two of theirs for over a year and nothing's happened to indicate that this was coming."

"That's the Heavenly Host for you. You can never tell when they'll be all harps and halos and when they'll give you the old smite-up-your-arse," Crowley remarked. "My advice? Don't take it personally."

"And then I kept wondering: How could they have known at all where we were holding them? Only a select few within the Men of Letters knew about this operation," Dr Hess admitted. "And of course, you."

"What are you suggesting, Julia? That _I_ had something to do with it?" Crowley gave her a disappointed head-tilt. "I deeply value our non-confrontational arrangement."

"It has also come to my attention that you have been acquiring several businesses discreetly," Dr Hess pointed out. "Considering that that includes a direct influence on human affairs, I'd say that counts as a violation of our arrangement that you value so _deeply_."

"Is it a sin now to own a business?" Crowley huffed. "I just want to have a hobby on Earth. Staying in Hell for all eternity isn't as fun as it sounds, you know."

Dr Hess crossed her arms, taking one step towards him. "I don't know what game you're playing. But let me make something clear for you: This betrayal will not be forgotten," she declared pointedly.

The demon King smirked, placing his finished glass back on the small table. "Oh? And what will you do, pray do tell?"

He stepped toward her and she backed away reciprocally. "You underestimate the Men of Letters," she threatened. "We'll fight back."

"And you underestimate me, darling," he shot her a playful grin. "I'm Crowley. The Devil is my pet dog. That's not a figure of speech, by the way." Dr Hess was stunned, frozen in her step. This was worse than she'd imagined. "You're probably wondering what you should do next. But I assure you, Dr Hess, that you are not my enemy. I don't want you as my enemy. So here's what you _can_ do: just keep things the way they've always been between us."

"And let you carry on this crusade of conquering the world?"

"It's not as bad as you think. Earth will be shared between Heaven and Hell, the way it should be."

Dr Hess folded her arms in disapproval. "So you and the angels just decided the fate of humanity was yours to control in a secret meeting?"

"It's the kind of meeting that only the big boys attend, no offence," he confessed. "So you don't have to worry your little head about it. Of course, I'm a generous ruler. I can give you gifts every now and then. Like how I gave you the two angels and your most precious resource to date, Sophia's vessel."

" _You_ took the angels from us. And a lot of innocent lives in the process," Dr Hess shot back. "How am I supposed to believe that you wouldn't do the same with Zara?"

"That is an excellent question and I'm glad you brought it up," Crowley stepped forward, forcing her back again. Now she was pressed against the front of her table, with nowhere left to move in case he tried something. Yet, her hands inched backwards to reach for a solid metal statue that was given to her once as a gift. "You see, my… _associate_ in Heaven knows nothing of Zara or her location. She is, at best, of use to you and by association, me. So it is in my best interest to keep the angels from getting to Zara. Of that, you have my word."

"Your word means nothing now," she snarled, her hands slowly gripping the statue behind her back.

"Hm," Crowley exhaled. "But you have no other choice, do you? What are you gonna do? Relocate the operation? Turn around, Dr Hess." That caught her off-guard. She stared blankly at him for a moment before obliging cautiously. Heart racing, she fully anticipated another hostile intruder to be standing at the other side of the desk. But she was wrong. There was no one there. "Look at the file on your desk."

Her eyes roved down onto the table. Surely enough, there was a khaki folder that definitely wasn't there before. Hesitant, her hands reached for it and she flipped it open. In it were several pages of information. Information about the operation. Pages and pages of profiles of everyone working on it. Pictures of the personnel inside and outside the headquarters as recent as a few days ago. There were even pictures of them working on normal cases in the immediate vicinity of the state they were located in. Crowley had been keeping a close eye on them.

"You try to move them, I'll know. If you do that, well, I don't think I'll have to spell out the consequences for you," he stroked his stubble. "Good talk."

With that, Dr Hess was left alone in her office again. She simply stood, befuddled as she stared again at the folder in her hands. She sat back down behind her desk, contemplating what her next email to the board of directors should entail. As she opened her inbox, there was one email that immediately grabbed her attention. It was from the US operation team. The old bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, had been opened. By the Winchesters. The email inquired about what the next step should be, proposing sending a force there to secure the bunker and take care of the intruders. On any normal day, that would be the approved course of action. But that day was special. It was the day Dr Hess learnt that Crowley had a close eye on her operatives. A close eye that could come to know of the bunker and its vast resources if they did as protocol dictated. In response to the email, Dr Hess wrote, " _Do not engage. Your mandate is limited to the research on the archangel vessel."_

* * *

 _ **Old Processing Plant, Normal, Illinois – 20 February 2012, 8.20pm**_

Incomprehensible whispers rumbled in the air. The demon Tommy waved his hand over a dried bloodstain in the darkness, surrounded only by a few candles arranged in a circle around a map to his right. On his left, there was an open spell book that he managed to snag from Hell's resident witch while she was off on one of her shopping crusades. Man, she was a heavy spender. But Daddy Crowley enjoyed rewarding her. It kinda disgusted everyone but no one spoke against it. Not that they disliked her particularly – though that was reason enough for some – but it was just her whole demeanour. She always ordered the demons around like they were her servants. Granted, Crowley ordered them to tend to her needs and wants, but who was she to demand subservience from them? She hadn't earned their respect. And waving your hands to make things fly wasn't gonna cut it. _Any demon could do that_ , he thought. The same logic tended to extend to Crowley. He didn't earn anyone's respect.

Which was why Tommy was here. Tommy was following an order from the _true_ King – Lucifer. He had never felt so honoured as he had when Lucifer gave him a mission. He swore that he would finish it, even if it meant his death. And risky, yes it was. Working away from Crowley's all-seeing eye was difficult. But with the right pretence, he managed to find this location. This was where the Winchesters had faced off with Abaddon. This was her last known location. And that spot of blood on the floor? Hers, he hoped. It would have to be for the spell to work.

" _Inveniet, inveniet, a viribus a vis sanguinem, inveniet,"_ he recited as he poured rosewater on the bloodstain. Next, he crushed dried thyme and powdered teeth of a virgin – don't ask how he got it – between his palms and sprinkled them on the small puddle he'd made. For the final step, he brought out a small box of iron nails – the kind you use to pin things on wooden boards, really thin and small. He dipped one in the mixture puddle, continuing to recite the incantation, and slowly put it through the flame of a candle. As soon as the nail touched the flame, it shot forward onto the map, levitating above it. Tommy looked on in anticipation, awaiting the spell to finish and the nail to pin down Abaddon's location. But it never did. "Huh?" His eyebrow furrowed in confusion. He was sure he performed everything correctly. So why wasn't the nail landing?

Suddenly, the nail moved, floating in an upright position over a certain spot. "Come on," he muttered under his breath. Then it moved again, standing above another spot. Then again, and again. It seemed to be moving in a routine manner, alternating between different spots on the map. It was like the nail couldn't decide where to stick itself down on the map. Maybe that was it. Maybe there were multiple locations. No time to waste, Tommy repeated the incantation as he dipped another nail in the puddle and put it through the flame. And just like the previous nail, it shot through the flame and began levitating above the map in the exact same manner – alternating between the same few positions. Taking that as proof of his theory, Tommy counted the number of times each nail paused over a spot. Twelve.

Patiently, the demon repeated the treatment ten more times. Each time, the number of movements for each nail decreased as less spots were available to be taken up by the nails. Enter twelfth nail. Suddenly all nails froze in their position. With a unanimous slice, they shot down onto the map. "Yeah!" he exclaimed in triumph. He studied the map. What could this mean? Either the blood was impure – it had more than just Abaddon's blood – or… or she was in pieces. The latter seemed more likely, considering that it wouldn't be easy to take down a Knight of Hell in a single swoop. It was one of the things that excited Tommy about his mission. Once Abaddon was up and about, she could take Crowley out with ease. And with Lucifer at the helm, Hell would enter a new Golden Age.

Stowing away the ritual materials, Tommy got up, invigorated. This was going to be amazing.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 21 February 2012,**_

"So how we lookin'?" Lucifer asked the demon before him.

The poor demon was visibly nervous to be standing in front of the Dark Lord. He could get into trouble if Crowley knew… but he would be in even greater trouble if Lucifer got free and he didn't help. Which was why he immediately assented when Tommy approached him and told him to visit Lucifer. That, and the fact that Tommy had blackmailed him by saying that he'd already told the archangel his name so that if no one showed up, Lucifer would know who to blame. Gulping, the demon asked, "You're sure Crowley is occupied elsewhere?"

Lucifer did a little head-shake, recounting Crowley's schedule in his head. He'd been observant, listening keenly and taking note of when Crowley was here and when he wasn't. "Yeah, he's on his rounds. Crowley's got, like, two and a half more hours of gettin' his pert, royal ass kissed," Lucifer reassured him.

The demon scanned the vessel, examining its energy signature. "Well, upper left quadrant is sound. Restoration's holding. No laminations detected. Lower left, likewise," he assessed.

"Carl, you made the right decision, you know," Lucifer grinned confidently. "'Cause when the dust settles, there's only gonna be one of us standing... and it ain't gonna be the guy with the accent, if you know what I mean." He rested a hand on the demon's shoulder, invoking in him a strange mixture of pride and nervousness. "I'm very, very impressed."

"Uh... You'll be happy to know the... the vessel is completely sound," the demon's voice trembled as he spoke. And that's to say nothing of the rest of him. "The repairs are secure."

"And the security system? Whatever it is that lets Crowley turn me into his own personal sock puppet?" Lucifer inquired. The demon's eyes darted around, unsure of how to phrase the unpleasant bits. "I don't hear words."

"The... the s-system is very much i-intact," Carl stammered.

"But you can disarm it, right?" Lucifer pointed a finger at him. When the demon said nothing, he didn't hesitate to grab him by the neck and pull him close, as he tended to do. Carl learnt to be succinct real fast. "I'm not really known for my patience," the archangel snarled.

"I don't quite have the means-" Carl choked out a reply.

"Who does?"

"Spivak. He designed-"

"Where is he?"

"Dead."

"Dead?" Lucifer frowned, puzzled.

"Dead," Carl reaffirmed. Lucifer let go, leaving the demon to stumble back and catch his breath. "Uh, yeah, after the system was installed, Crowley killed Spivak to safeguard its secrets," he informed Lucifer. The archangel's forehead creased in thought, contemplating his next move. Gently massaging his neck, Carl continued, "But there is someone else. Esther. The witch, sir."

"Alright, then get on it," Lucifer ordered. "Get her to crack it."

"But- but there's a problem," the demon swallowed nervously.

"What?" Lucifer sounded flustered.

"She- she's l-loyal to Crowley. She won't help us."

"Hm." Lucifer stroked his chin. Then, his icy blue eyes bore straight into the demon's irises, piercing deep into them. "Then _make_ her. Find out how it works. Can you do it?"

Carl adjusted his collar. It suddenly felt so constricting. "Y-yeah. I just need some time. I'll... I'll be quick."

Lucifer cracked a smile in a fraction of a second, pulling his shirt over his head. "Good. 'Cause I am gettin' stir crazy in here."

* * *

 _ **The Void – Time is an illusion constructed by the Demiurge**_

Our first moment of calm. Torn up parts of Defenders lay strewn about. That certainly wasn't all of them – the Void was engineered to spawn effectively an infinite number of them, like an unending battle simulation. But for the time being, we'd managed to put a halt on a thing that allowed the Defenders to rise. If you listened closely, you could hear them scratching at the walls, fighting for a release so that they could finally fulfil their duty. With the mainframe destroyed, Alpha was effectively blind. He was probably stumbling around here somewhere, looking for us. The Void being a practically infinite space meant that He would be a while. Without his eyes, Alpha was at least a little weaker. I wasn't so sure what that meant for the others. Would Theta, Delta and Omega all be affected as well? I suppose that didn't matter now. It certainly didn't to all my doppelgangers, who just wanted to get back home.

"My sisters, please listen to me," I ushered all of them. They stood assembled in front of me while I was on a podium of sorts. I saw faces that were just drained of all energy, faces that looked like they were ready to give up. Truly, I could understand it all. But there was still a job left to do. "We can't all just leave. Not now. Khaos has yet to be destroyed. Don't you want justice for what has been done to you?"

Murmurs erupted among them. Then one of them spoke up, "We respect you, but you haven't been here nearly as long as we have. Some of us practically lived our whole lives here. We just want to go home and see our families again. We're not picky about justice."

Agreeing noises could be heard. Some of them looked ready to leave. My heart raced, afraid that I would be left alone without their solidarity. How was I supposed to get my baby back without an army? "But what's the point?" I said through heavy breaths. "What's the point of going back home while Khaos still lives? While He could come after you again? And this time, the people you care about will be in danger too."

That still didn't seem to convince them. "I've been here far too long," she rebutted. "I'll take my chances."

"His endgame was _you_. He's already won. He won't bother coming after us anymore," another one chimed in.

"The Void is practically shut down. He can't do anything to us."

My heart sank. Was this what it came to? Appealing to their self-interest? And here I thought my doppelgangers and I would always have each others' backs. "Please," I felt desperation sting my eyes. "This is the only way I'll get my son back. Put yourself in my position. What would you do if it was your son? Some of you must have children."

"My child isn't a son born of Light and Darkness," someone said. "She's a nephil."

"Mine are pure Darkness, just like me," another said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Safely awaiting me in their one true home."

I could see nods of agreement being exchanged. Finally, someone added, "Looks like you're the only one who was dim enough to create something that Khaos could use against you."

"Oh come on," I pleaded.

"No, no, she's right. We have to stay and fight," someone urged. _Yes, finally_.

"Maybe _you_ don't have people who depend on you but I do," someone else argued. _We were so close…_

"This is the _right_ thing to do. What would God say if you went back home when someone was in dire need of your help?"

"God wouldn't say anything, idiot. He left Heaven. He left us all alone a long time ago."

"How is leaving now going to weigh on your conscience?"

"I don't know, how is me stabbing you gonna weigh on _your_ conscience?"

"For the love of Amara, please stop this talk of violence!"

"Bring up Amara again and you'll be the next one to go!"

 _Oh God. What's happening?_ I could see clear lines of division forming. While I was heartened to see some of them opting to stay and help, I was just as disheartened to see some of them arming themselves for a fight. This was absolutely not how I envisioned a meeting with all the other Me's to go. At this rate, it looked like there would be another war in the Void and there was no telling how many of us would survive this one – very possibly none. I sighed, my shoulders drooping in dejection. Things looked to be escalating quickly with voices getting raised. I didn't know how to react. Was this it? Would I have to scour an entire universe – one that still gave me nightmares from time to time – all on my own? The thought of it made me feel lost, but it wasn't something I would neglect. If it came to that, I would do it. But that was still to say nothing about the possibility that Alpha could regain His strength and come after us again. No, I had to defeat Him if I wanted my son back and alive.

"Hey!" A loud voice beckoned. I turned to see one of my doppelgangers – one who was completely made of the Darkness – step up next to me. Her green eyes appeared threatening against the background of her black sclerae as she scanned the scene before us. Wisps of dark smoke emanated from her. "You heard what she said. If we don't end this properly, Khaos will still be kicking. And there's no telling what He'll do next. You all seem so confident that the threat is over… but when have you ever known Khaos to stop at what is just necessary for Himself? If He did, none of us would actually be here. None of us except her," she pointed an obsidian sword at me. "And which one of you set us all free? Oh that's right, it was _her._ So I think a little bit of gratitude is in order."

Silence fell over them. Admittedly, I was impressed. But considering all of their responses thus far, I couldn't help but wonder what her intentions were with helping me like this. And being purely Darkness – no offence – it seemed odd to me that she would be so willing to boost me up. Or maybe I had just been harbouring an implicit prejudice not entirely based on reality. After all, I had the Darkness in me too. So I relaxed my shoulders, seeing where the natural course of this situation led us.

"We are all now indebted to our dear Commander here," she spoke bitterly, but I supposed that was her normal speaking voice. "And I think the best way to pay off our debt is to join her in taking down the monster who has damaged us all for life." I could see reluctant looks of assent. "So, you over there," she pointed someone out indiscriminately, presumably the one who'd said something earlier. "And you, and you, and you. You got someplace to be?"

No protests this time. They seemed to be listening to her. She assumed a position slightly back away from me and I gave her a nod of thanks as she passed me. "Listen," I began, my tone considerably more gentle than hers as intended. "I know none of you actually want to be here any longer than you have to. And believe me, neither do I. I have a lovely home to get back to. A garden to tend to. A son to find. Winchesters to defeat." That earned me a chuckle from some, derisive looks from others. "An angry Lucifer to answer to-"

"Just kill him already," someone uttered.

"You're throwing in with the Devil?"

"Lucifer? The Devil? You on something?"

"Of course it had to be Lucifer of all people."

"Lucifer who?"

"You could do so much bet-"

"Alright!" I stopped them. "That's enough. God forbid I mention Lucifer. Or Amara, whoever you're more attached to." _I'm not going to be able to mention anyone who means anything to me without pissing some people off. Damn._ "My point is, I understand you. But Khaos is our enemy. The only enemy that matters. Whatever you care about, He knows how to take it from you. I'm guessing that's how He got most of you here in the first place – He must have threatened something that you deeply cared about." Images of memories from the day he almost destroyed my world completely flashed through my mind, invoking a nearly-forgotten sorrow. "And it is tempting as hell to get back to whatever that is. But the fight isn't over until Khaos is dead, locked up or defeated in some substantial way. Until that happens, none of the things _we_ care about – none of the _people_ we care about – will be safe. Please stay with me and help me defeat Him. An army of thousands of archangels is definitely a firepower to reckon with. And this isn't about me or my son. It's about us. We all need each other."

I paused, in anticipation of their response. "Alright," one of the more defiant ones relented. "Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

I heard mumbles of agreement. "I'm glad to hear it. But first things first, we need to get organised. I know it's not ideal, but we need some way of identifying each other. I mean, we all share the same face, same name…"

"Numbers," the one behind me said. She stepped forward again coolly, arms folded. "We should all have numbers."

"That's a bit… de-individuating, isn't it?" someone pointed out.

"You got a better idea, princess?" she snapped, muscles poised as if she was ready to pounce forward and attack. _Whoa._

"Okay," I interjected, stepping between them. "Like I said, this isn't ideal. And yes, I understand your concern. You are not my soldiers and I am not your superior. This numbering system? A temporary inconvenience for us to get around, okay? I certainly do want to get to know all of you better. That way I can understand what your contribution means and trust me, I value that. So first things first, let's all get numbered. Then I want to talk to every single one of you, alright? And you guys should talk to each other too. _Nicely._ " I glared at the archangel standing next to me, who just avoided my gaze. "Who knows, maybe we'd actually make friends and help each other outside this place. So get talking. We need to take turns patrolling the Void and watching out for each other."

Something began here in the Void in that moment. Something that was much greater than I could have ever imagined. Something that I was proud of, but also something I would come to regret in due time, much like some of my decisions. Nevertheless, I felt a wave of satisfaction as we all announced our numbers – myself being Number One as Commander – and displayed them as engravings on the side of our left wrists. The one who'd helped me get their attention shot me a proud grin – a little child-like demeanour of hers, it seemed – as she held up her wrist and showed me a number that read '66'. I huffed a smile. Perhaps that meant something amusing to her. I was interested to find out. Finally, some unity among us. Hopefully, knowing a bit of their histories would make them all more likeable despite the fact that they were ready to walk out on me a mere few moments ago.

As I watched them talk it out and decide their numbers, my eyes rested on a single individual who stood still in the crowd, staring straight at me. It was _her._ The one who started this escape plan. The one who passed me the note from Omega. The one who Khaos tried to use to convince me to join Him. My most identical doppelganger – a hybrid of Light and Darkness, just like me. My eyebrows crinkled slightly into a frown as I locked eyes with her. I'd been standing here, losing my will slowly trying to convince all of these versions of me that this was a worthy crusade, and she'd been silent this whole time. She could have said something! She knew, possibly more than anyone else here, what this war meant yet she'd been staying in the back observing without saying a word. And that look in her eyes. It might just be the distance between us, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of her lip turn up slightly. What game was she playing? _Ugh._ Even after all this while, I didn't know if I trusted her. That was beginning to irk me.

* * *

A/N:

Man, all those Sophia's in one place almost seemed like a good idea. I am keen on introducing some of their backstories as well – they are all interesting characters too. Let's just say, that some of them are not very cooperative (what made them that way?). Oh and if you're wondering about why I label the time so strangely, I'm just screwing around. It makes it fun for me, idk about you. The point is that the characters are not aware of the passage of time in those scenes. (Or maybe I'm just slowly going insane like Zara…)


	64. Raining Blood

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 64: Raining Blood**

 _ **Hell – 21 February 2012**_

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Esther snapped as she paced around the room. She scanned through drawers, taking things out and putting them back in.

"Of course, ma'am," Carl bowed his head respectfully. "But I come to speak with you about an urgent matter that requires your attention."

"It can wait," she dismissed, now looking under her pillows and the bed. "Ugh, where is it?"

"Do you need help?" Carl offered, the demon's black eyes almost drooping in a show of courtesy.

"No thanks," she bitterly answered. "Can't even trust you idiots to do housekeeping right," she rambled. "Always losing my things."

He ignored that jibe, pretending he wasn't severely put off by her comment. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to wring her guts dry. But of course, the King's favourite sex toy was untouchable. Every need of hers, no matter how inane, had to be met. All her wants must be satisfied. This was all "Hell's gratitude", Crowley had said. For her "loyal service" to the Crown. _Oh yeah, bet she 'serviced' him well,_ the demon thought wryly. "What, if I may ask, are you looking for, my lady?"

Esther continued to fluster about, flipping cushions and running her hands through the books on the shelves. After a long pause, she just stopped what she was doing and placed her hands on her hips. "One of my spell books is gone – _The Compendium of Basic Witchcraft, with an addendum from the Ars Goetia_ ," she recalled. "The _revised_ Ars Goetia, I might add. The one that's actually accurate and took me a _long_ time to find."

 _Oh. That one._ Carl gulped. It was the one Tommy stole right before he vamoosed to find Abaddon. Which meant that he needed to cover for his friend or else risk both their necks. "I'm sure it'll turn up eventually," he reassured her. "I'll investigate the matter with the servants myself."

"Good," she quipped. "Now what'd you want?"

"His Majesty has sent me, my lady," Carl stated. "He wishes to discuss details of the Cage project."

Esther's dark, shapely eyebrows creased into a frown. "What's there to discuss? The plan's already in operation."

"It seems there is a fault in the design, madame," he said.

"That's impossible. I went over the schematics myself," she denied. A strange feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach.

"The King would disagree," Carl insisted. "If you would follow me…"

He opened the door and waited for her in the hallway. Somewhat uneasily, Esther took a single step forward, wondering what might have happened to cause Crowley to doubt the system. It was probably just a small thing. Nothing to worry about, she hoped. Gathering certainty, she exited the room and followed Carl downstairs to the throne room. He opened the large metal door and let her enter first, before himself entering and shutting the door. She flinched as she heard the door shut, spinning immediately to face the demon. "There's no one here," she noticed. "What's going on?"

Her shoulders tensed, ready to attack anything. Carl, on the other hand, had a crooked grin on his face as he stood by the door, a palm placed over the back of another hand. "The King will see you now," he said, obsidian eyes displaying proudly.

Esther felt her heart pounding wildly. A sense of impending doom overcame her. Then, on the floor, she saw a shadow enlarging near hers. She spun around, coming face to face with a familiar blond man. A gasp escaped her lips. He towered over her with his impressive height, looming ominously like a monolith. He bore his true eyes, their scarlet fire threatening to burn her where she stood. "You must be Esther," Lucifer said.

Though her breath paced at an unprecedented speed, she attempted a deep breath in and out. Lucifer being free – this was supposed to be an easy problem to address. The plan had included this contingency. Mustering courage, her eyes sharpened. "And you're out of your leash," she spat out.

"Ah, feisty, this one," Lucifer remarked. "I see why he likes you so much now. A thorned heart for a thorned prick." He took a step towards her, forcing her to step backwards. "They tell me that you helped design my current little… predicament. Is that true?"

"Absolutely," she announced, pulling her shoulders back confidently. Whatever he tried, it wouldn't work. That flesh prison he was trapped in gave her power to control him.

"Then let's make a deal. You help me undo whatever gives Crowley the power to hurt me, and I'll… say, double whatever he pays you," Lucifer suggested. "I won't even kill you afterwards." He held up two fingers in a salute. "Devil's promise."

"You can't give me what he gives me," Esther preened, crossing her arms. "This is futile, you know. I helped him come up with his grand scheme to rule the world. Why would I want to help _you_?"

"You think Crowley can rule the world?" Lucifer chuckled, almost confused at the idea. He paced about slowly as he spoke with animated hand gestures, "A second-rate demon whose only claim to the throne is circumstance? Come on, you're a smart girl – you must know that you don't get _true_ power by circumstance! You have to be born mighty to _become_ mighty. It's destiny." He stopped in front of the throne, turning slowly to face her with arms outstretched in a grandiose pose. He bore his wings again, filling the room with a majestic glow. "I'm just asking you to play for the winning team. The rewards are… _divine._ "

"What rewards can _you_ give me from a dingy back-room in Hell?" Esther mocked, feeling an uninhibited bravado flowing through her veins with every word.

"Careful, witch," Lucifer warned, tone growing sombre. "Don't say anything you'll regret."

His reverberant celestial voice sent a shiver through her body, though she tried to maintain her façade of courage. "Doesn't matter. I'm loyal to Crowley and only Crowley."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Lucifer flicked off his grace, appearing normal again as he clasped his hands and made an expression. " _You're loyal to Crowley_ ," he said with a voice that one would use to impersonate a child. " _Do you have a widdle crush on him?_ "

"It's not a crush. It's love," she defended, despite herself. It felt refreshing to say that out loud as if it made it official. But it _was_ , to an extent that she was willing to admit to herself. It had always felt real between them from the moment they'd met in the Russian mafia's hideout in Ukraine. She knew from the moment she saw him slice Igor Kavinsky's marble white throat all the way through that she wanted to gaze into his dreamy demonic eyes for eternity.

"A match made in Hell?" Lucifer asked almost like a kid who couldn't believe that a fairy exchanged teeth for money while he slept. "That's… that's beautiful!" he sighed in relief. And then he burst out into laughter, amused by his own impersonations. "Wait, wait, you think-" He just couldn't stop laughing at the thought. "You think Crowley actually cares about you?"

A defensive rage burned in Esther's chest. "Of course he does. He treats me like a _Queen_ ," she stuck her nose up in the air.

"Then why don't the demons call you _Queen_ Esther, huh?" he said, rather monotonously. "What, is he afraid to put a ring on it? Oooh, that's a- that's a red flag, young lady." Esther's eyes changed ever so slightly, easing into a look of confusion but never really reaching there. She was trying so hard to hold onto a reality that she thought she knew so well. "You see, Esther, I created his kind. Demons – they were forged from the extremes of pain and misery. And when you go through something like that, it becomes almost _impossible_ to feel anything again. Take it from a guy who knows. So Crowley… he's just using you. And when he's done, he'll throw you out like a used condom."

"You're… you're wrong," she insisted. Then, her voice grew bitter, "If that's true, how did someone like Sophia ever love someone like _you?_ " Lucifer frowned slightly, taken aback by the mention of her name.

"Don't. Say. Her. _Name!"_ He sent a strong gust of wind forward, knocking her back. Esther flew back, hurled onto the ground. A dull pain emanated from her side and she tasted blood in her mouth. "You are not worthy of speaking it," Lucifer growled.

"Did I offend you?" she snarled as she looked up at him. Her bloodied lips curved up on one side as she pulled herself up. "You poor, pathetic creature. You must be in so much pain," she patronised, daringly stepping towards him. With what she planned to make him endure, she felt like nothing could stop her. "This can be easily remedied," she declared, raising a hand up to snap her fingers.

"Not so fast," he ushered. All of a sudden, she felt strong hands grabbing her arms and holding her in place.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!" she ordered the demons. "When Crowley hears about this…"

"Oh he won't. Trust me," Lucifer responded, his attention now taken by the intricate design of a torch nailed to a pillar. "Where you're going… no one's gonna be able to hear your screams for miles."

"You think a bunch of demons can hold _me_?" she gnarled, struggling to get free of their grasp.

"You may be a witch, honey, but you're still human in all the places that count," he said, somewhat bored.

" _Ego convocabo-_ Ah! _"_ Esther winced as she felt something jab her neck. As soon as she felt it, the demon pulled out the syringe. Her movements slowed as she struggled to stay awake.

"See, you can blame Crowley for this one. I got this idea from one of his past milk-runs," Lucifer tapped his forehead with a finger. He was, of course, referring to the way Crowley cornered Nick and Zara. With all his free time, Lucifer did nothing but replay the image of those strange men nabbing Zara and injecting something into her to take her away. He'd kept at it, hoping to find more clues about how he could find her. Though this turned out to be fruitless, at least it was useful in the current situation. Esther's muscles began to feel heavy. Her vision blurred but she could make out the figure of Lucifer nearing her. She tried to get away in vain, only to feel his palm encircle her neck and force her to look at him. "And you could have had the world…" was the last thing she heard before eventually giving into the compelling slumber.

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 22 February 2012, It's just… not a good time**_

"Please… please… leave me alone," Zara muttered through a trembling lower jaw. She was curled on the floor in a foetal position. Her whole body shook visibly as she lay on her side, eyes round and wide. They stared unblinkingly at a shape in front of them. She felt her mind becoming light, almost uncontrollably so. It was a futile struggle to hold onto the feeling of presence when her heart raced so fast that she feared she might die of a heart attack. Even quicker were her thoughts that never seemed to focus on one point for long, offering no refuge, no point of reference to find sanity. Her petite figure felt so weak like all energy was being drained from every extreme and channelled into the intense labour of her heart and lungs. Her mouth and throat became dry from the shallow, fast-paced breaths she took. What was worse was the feeling of emptiness in the core of her being and it wasn't just that she was hungry. It felt almost like a black hole had opened up within her.

Strained groans escaped her lips as she just wished for it all to end. She couldn't take it. She couldn't take it anymore. Her eyes shut tightly and then immediately regretted that decision, considering she hadn't slept for two nights in a row – not that she would know when it was night or day – and her eyes had been staring straight ahead without so much as a blink. It was painful and uncomfortable to close them in such a moment. Those almond eyes that craved rest yet shunned it when offered. As if they had determined by themselves that it was more important to be trained on this strange, dark figure before her.

She'd been watching him – or at least she thought it was a 'him' – for what seemed like forever. She didn't remember when he first appeared or how long he'd been standing there, still as a statue, but this anticipation was all she remembered. So far, he hadn't made a move. Not even so much as an indication as to why he was there. He just appeared like a shadow, blocking her red light in an incongruent cloud of darkness. "Please…" she whimpered, her voice barely audible to even herself. Her tear-stained cheeks felt sticky as they contorted with more sobbing. "Put me back… put me back…"

Still, the figure didn't so much as twitch. Something about him just freaked her out so much. Maybe it was the fact that no one was supposed to be in the cell except her – it felt like an invasion of her sanctuary. Or maybe it was the wisps of dark smoke emanating from him. Finally, when she realised that this wait was the true torture, she burrowed her head into her knees and covered the back of her neck with clasped hands. "Ahhh!" What started out as an exasperated, tired groan evolved into a raspy shout. When no immediate relief came, Zara took another deep breath. Again came a growl, much louder this time and only muffled by her thighs. Her fingers dug into her hair and she grabbed a fistful on each hand as tightly as she could, letting out another chesty, raw cry. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I don't know what you want!" she screamed in a voice so unrecognisable as hers. The faceless being just watched her, saying and doing nothing.

"What's she doing?" Toni pulled up a chair next to Tom as she set her mug of coffee on the table, stirrer still in it. They both sat in front of a monitor that showed a single display from the camera in Zara's cell.

"She's having another break-down," he observed, sounding unsurprised.

"This is strange," Toni frowned.

"She's been in lock-up for days and she just lost her unborn child. I think this has been her most normal response so far," Tom rebutted.

"Not that, Tom," Toni would have snapped, but what was going on in the screen captured her attention. "This isn't the predicted response to the REST programme. Her ventricles showed enlargement, similar to the kind shown in schizophrenia. That means REST and Total Isolation should reduce hallucinations, yet here we are, with her screaming into thin air."

Tom listened intently, equally intrigued. He opened a drawer and brandished the project file, flipping open to a page on their current process. What they were doing with REST was to decrease her cognitive processing abilities, which would in turn make her more susceptible to suggestion and hence make information extraction easier. This treatment included keeping her in her cell for up to 24 hours without food or water, as well as a constant low droning noise in the background and the occasional injection of a gas that prevented her from sleeping. Another 24 hours after that would be spent in a sensory deprivation tank, this one being one that allowed her to breathe more easily. But as they found out, the outcome was completely opposite to what they thought would happen. Tom took a deep breath in and out, impatiently tapping a pen against the open page. He was tired of this – tired of constantly trying things on Zara and only getting more questions instead of answers. It just made the whole operation seem… pointless. They weren't any closer to their goal than when they started. All they got were gasps and nods of encouragement from the home office, like their little lab monkey was the most interesting thing in the world. Or maybe he was beginning to feel a detachment from his earlier enthusiasm about working on this project.

"Her mind is fighting it," Toni inferred, snapping Tom out of his cynical thoughts. "There must be something in place in there. Like a defence mechanism. Perhaps something that the archangel put in place to protect her mind."

"Oh come on," Tom sighed. Toni turned to him, puzzled by his response. Ashamed by his own sudden reply, Tom put a hand to his forehead, rubbing a temple dejectedly. "Can't you see? There's no- there's no defence mechanism. She's… she's breaking apart. We can't salvage anything… from a broken mind."

His shoulders drooped and he averted his gaze, feeling the strange mixture of relief and anxiety you get after revealing a risky opinion. Toni studied him. After everything, she felt nothing but sympathy for him. She'd suggested that he take a break, maybe a week or so, to clear his head. Initially, of course, she'd offered to write in to the higher-ups to grant him leave so that he could attend Laura's funeral but strangely enough, he refused. It was like he didn't even consider it an option. Something changed in him that day – something dark brewed in him, showing itself sometimes behind his eyes. Toni worried what it might do to him but she didn't press any further – it was his choice. Besides, the job was more important. The board back home made it clear that they didn't like the idea of any of them returning in this time of increased vigilance. Of course, this wouldn't be for long, she hoped. The people in-charge were probably actively looking for ways to prevent such incidents in future. Yeah, they were probably trying to engineer better sigils and better tools for combatting angels, she speculated. Whatever was happening, she just wanted it to end soon so that she could go home and see her kid again.

"Tom," she began with a calm voice. "I can't imagine what you've been through the past few weeks-"

"Yeah," he huffed sardonically, gazing downwards.

"But the only way we get out of this is through," she stated. "We need to keep pushing until we get something. There is no release from this until we finish what we've started."

"How long does this have to go on?" he asked in such a low voice so that no one else in the office could hear them. "When do we just stop and decide that she has nothing to offer us? That she's just a poor, frightened woman who happened to be born in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Now it was Toni's turn to sigh. _This isn't time for doubts, dammit._ She had to be sure that what she was doing was right. It was the only way back home. Back to her little wide-eyed munchkin. A pang emanated from her chest at the thought. "Not long now, I promise." A pause ensued between them as they just continued watching Zara roll over to her other side and resume her hysterical rambling.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 4 March 2012**_

"Esther, darling, it's been a while since we last spoke. Fancy dinner and a movie? Call me back," Crowley said into the phone shortly before a puzzled pause and cutting the call. He stared curiously at the screen of his phone. Their most recent text conversation had been a string of flirtatious messages and emojis, yet his lady love was nowhere to be found. It seemed pretty clear what this was leading to but why was she absent? Where had she gone? Was this all some kind of mysterious foreplay? She answered all his texts but never picked up any of his calls. _Huh. Weird._

"Your Grace?" A demon interrupted his thoughts. The servant stood respectfully, addressing his King from a comfortable distance. "You called?"

"Yes," Crowley turned to face him. "I couldn't help but notice the stark… absence of complaints demanding my attention these past few weeks. Is there anything I should know?"

"Your Grace…" the demon gulped. "I scrub the hallways and clean the kennels. What can _I_ tell you? Sir."

"Hm." Crowley sauntered over to a side-table and poured some whiskey into two glasses. He gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat."

"It's alright, Your Highness. I can stand," the demon shyly refused. He suddenly felt like he'd said the wrong thing and now was doomed to a horrible end. But what was he supposed to do? He didn't know anything.

"No, I insist." With a wave of the finger, Crowley made the chair move slightly outwards so that the demon could sit. "It is treason to disobey an order from your King." Nervously, the demon nodded and obliged. "Roman, was it? Do you want to be scrubbing hallways for all eternity?"

"Um…" He was unsure of how to respond to that. He'd heard the King was known for being a tricky man to please and for so long, he'd been relieved that he didn't have to deal with all of that directly. Though his job got boring at times, it was safer to be inconspicuous and the last one to get any sort of ire from the people who could kill you. Yet here he was, having a casual drink with the King himself. Except it was anything but casual and that made him tremble like a leaf on the inside. Was this the day he lost his undead life? "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"What I mean is, do you want to spend forever cleaning up after idiots who can't seem to stay alive for long?" Crowley repeated, swirling his glass before taking a sip. "What if I offered you a promotion? To say, become part of a more elite department."

Roman raised his eyebrows momentarily in surprise. This was not the turn he expected the conversation to take. "I would… I would graciously accept what His Majesty offers me."

"Good. You will become a secret operative, collecting reconnaissance wherever I need you to. The job has its benefits, of course. You are allowed one human's life to ruin every month, however you'd like, so long as you remain discreet about it. I know that it sounds meagre, but it's much better than whatever you have right now, which is none," Crowley added.

"You… you do me a great honour, sir," Roman nodded, restricting his smile to a suitable length though admittedly he was more excited than he showed. A chance to get out of this place? To look at something other than Hellhounds or the stone floor?

"But before you depart for earth," Crowley prefaced. "I have a job for you. Your first mission, right here. Possibly your most important mission."

"Anything, Your Grace. What do you need me to do?" he eagerly asked.

"Resume your typical cleaning duties." Crowley studied the demon's expression, seeing what appeared to be a slight tinge of disappointment behind his eyes. "Being who you are, Roman, means that no one pays any attention to you. And in the business of collecting information, that is key. I need you to keep your eyes and ears out for anything strange and report back to me every week. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the demon answered, now understanding the mission.

"Now go. Go and be invisible," Crowley ushered. With a courteous bow, the demon took his leave. The demon King blankly stared at his glass before downing it in one gulp. He unlocked his phone again. There was a new text message waiting for him.

" _When I get back from shopping, love,"_ it read, accompanied by the appropriate heart emojis. So that extended absence was… a shopping trip? Though he was someone to understand the need to dress properly, it bewildered him to think that someone would be able to spend nearly two weeks on just shopping. To be fair, however, it wasn't completely unlike Esther. She had no reservations when it came to spending. It was one of the things Crowley liked about her. It made her easy to please. Shrugging it off, he moved on.


	65. The Throne of Evil

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 65: The Throne of Evil**

 _ **Lebanon, Kansas – 7 March 2012, 6.22pm**_

(Keeper of The Seven Keys by Helloween wafts in the air)

"All I'm saying, Sammy, is that no one gains anything by feeling sorry for anyone. That's not the way the world works," Dean lectured. The rumbling of the Impala was the ever-present background noise to Sam's internal lament that they were having this conversation at all. It was just ridiculous. "When all is said and done, you have to come to terms with the fact that she _chose_ to become a stripper."

"Yeah but Dean, she had the grades _and_ the passion. She could have gone to college," Sam rebutted, unable to believe that he had to voice out any of this. It just seemed obvious. "Just because someone doesn't have the financial means, it doesn't mean that should stop them from pursuing a meaningful career."

"What are you saying? That becoming a _connoisseur_ of the garment-removal industry isn't a meaningful career?" Dean scoffed.

"That's not how you use ' _connoisseur_ '," Sam pointed out. "A connoisseur is someone who is a good judge in matters of taste. It doesn't refer to expertise."

"Her name was _Candy_ , Sam," Dean argued, completely ignoring what his brother just said. "Makes your mouth water just saying it. And you made her cry!"

"I didn't know she was sentimental about vet school!" Sam defended.

"You could have at least paid for a sympathy lap dance," Dean persisted. "Maybe then she'd be closer to getting into vet school."

"Okay, you know what, enough of this. I don't like strip clubs. I just- I just don't, okay? Can we please leave it at that?" Sam finally said.

"Fine. Whatever," Dean said disappointedly, turning up the radio.

 _~You're the Keeper of the Seven Keys_

 _That lock up the seven seas_

 _And the Seer of Visions said before he went blind_

 _Hide them from demons and rescue mankind_

 _Or the world we're all in will soon be sold_

 _To the throne of the evil paid with Lucifer's gold~_

The Impala soon came to a stop outside the old Men of Letters bunker, their new home. Now engaged in a conversation about whether Dio or Ozzy was a better frontman for Black Sabbath, Dean pulled open the rustic metal door and Sam followed behind, leaving it to come to smooth and certain close as he trailed behind his brother. In that opportune moment, a little rat scurried into the bunker, unnoticed as the Winchesters proceeded down the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen. The little grey rodent paused snugly in a gap between the railings that oversaw the whole bunker, surveying the whole scene before him. A little surprised squeak escaped his little mouth. To such a tiny thing, the bunker seemed as big as the universe. And it was bad enough riding quietly in the backseat of the Impala for thirteen hours straight. He had to hold in the inclinations of his little rat guts that wanted nothing more to release its bodily waste. It was such an uncomfortable experience… until it suddenly wasn't. Let's just say that the elder Winchester wasn't going to like what he was going to find the next time he opened the rear seat doors. Well, whatever way one could spite the Winchesters, one should take, the rat thought.

Nose set on its goal, the rat hurried down the stairs, keeping its senses out for what it was looking for. This place was huge. Where would it start looking? There were so many shelves. So, so many. And with its tiny legs, it was covering the expanse of a few Winchester steps with many, many paw steps. The wide desert that was the hallway seemed like a never-ending trek to a distant land. The other end didn't seem to be getting any closer. The rat could hear the muffled sounds of the Winchesters talking with home-made sandwiches in their mouths. A fizz sounded as one of them popped open the cap of a beer bottle. Being a rodent, everything looked and smelled drastically different. His head jerked in the direction of the kitchen. All those edibles… it was so tempting. But no, he had to move on. So scurry he did, past the kitchen door.

He froze. His little nostrils flared. He picked up a distinctive sulfurous smell. Aha! Now he knew where to go. Taking a right turn, another arduous section of his journey began. There was a door slightly ajar up ahead. It led into something really dark. Keeping his eyes on the target, the rat scurried faster while trying to keep the patter of his little paws as silent as possible. Just then, footsteps sounded behind him. They were getting louder.

"Right, I'm gonna go crash for maybe a week," Dean stated, stretching his arms to the back and feeling the tension releasing in his shoulders. Just as he and Sam turned the corner, their attention was suddenly captured by the little ball of black fur gliding across the edge of the wall.

"Rat," Sam simply exclaimed, making for the creature. The rat in turn squealed loudly and took off at break-neck speed. It barely made it through the gap in the door and into the shadows as Sam pulled the door open further, staring in vain into the darkness, wondering where that damned rat went. "Dammit."

"Where did _that_ come from?" Dean stared absently into the store room.

"Don't know," Sam's eyes made out the shape of several metal racks in the store room. He was already beginning to resent the thought of looking for a rodent in all the possible hidey holes in the room. "Thought this place was supposed to be air-tight…"

"The bunker's only been abandoned for what, fifty years? Go figure," Dean reasoned. "You could ward a place against God Himself but you can't keep the little critters out."

"Great, do we have to worry about a rat problem now?" Sam grumbled.

"It's just _one_ rat."

"What if there's a nest that we don't know about?"

"So? We've lived in motels much crappier than this place. We can deal with some rodent housemates."

"Dude, it's a hygiene thing. Ever heard of Black Death?" Sam argued.

"Alright, whatever," Dean sighed, not ready to hear Sam go into lecture-mode again. "We'll get a mouse-trap on the next milk-run and catch Stuart Little o'er here. Happy?" Dean promptly marched off to his room and Sam, though a little concerned, put the rat out of his mind and retired to catch up on a book on vampires he saw in the main study. The rat poked his head out from a little corner, watching as the shadows of footsteps disappeared from the stray entry of light from the hallway into the store room. _Ha! You fools! A mouse trap will not get me!_

Latching onto the olfactory signal his nose had detected, the rat did some expert manoeuvring and scaling up and along the shelves to reach a specific box. His little paws rapped against the sides of the box, clawing their way to its top. With some fiddling here and there, he finally got the lid open and slid into it with a great breath of relief, albeit painstakingly. The stench of semi-rotten flesh hit its nostrils in a sudden wave. But at least he found what he came for. Squeak as he might, no response came from the severed head. Dead eyes merely stared straight ahead, purple rings of de-oxygenation lining them. From his proximate position to the head, he felt a familiar power-nulling force emanating from it. _Must be something inside._ His furry head caressed the underside of the decapitated head, finding the blood-crusted hole through which a lone bullet had been lodged. His beady eyes inspected the damage. _Ah shit, the bullet's in deep._ His paws wouldn't be able to reach it from where he was.

 _Guess we'll have do it the hard way._ Though he knew the Knight probably wouldn't appreciate it, he had to do what he had to do. Bracing himself, the rat scurried into her cherry red lips, finding the puncture wound at the roof of her mouth. From there, he initiated a grisly digging campaign, having no choice but to drill further into her head to retrieve the bullet with the Devil's trap carved on it. Bits of innards sprayed into her mouth, like tiny paper shavings except it was bloody and pink. Eventually, the unruly bullet was retrieved. The rat backed out of her mouth, holding the bullet between its jaws. As soon as the bullet left her face, Abaddon gasped a breath of life. Immediately, she coughed and spat out all the bits of her head that lay on her tongue in a messy heap.

"That feels a lot better," she sighed. Then she tried to move but found a disturbing lack of extension from her head. Something fuzzy rubbed against her cheek. Her light blue eyes craned to see the little rat curiously watching her from this confined space. "You? _You're_ my rescue?" she wondered, sounding a little disappointed and surprised at the same time. The rat squeaked rather excitedly. "Yes, I can see you're a demon. _Duh._ " More squeaking ensued. "Your name is Tommy… uh-huh… you're here on- wait, what? The boss is back?" Her lips cracked a relieved grin but faded as soon as the rat continued its story. "You can't be serious! _Crowley?_ The businessman? _UGH!"_ she groaned. More squeaking. "Oh yeah, you bet. I'm gonna make this right. Now get me out of here!"

The air was calm in the bunker. Just a normal day for the boys after finishing a case, spent relaxing and chilling. Sam sipped on a cup of coffee as he settled in his seat in the main study, nose-deep in a book. Dean, on the other hand, surfed the net as he headbanged to an upbeat song playing through his headphones. It was a moment of peace and nothing could disturb them. With the rhythmic blaring of music in Dean's ears, he was none the wiser when a box thudded onto the floor of the store room. Neither was Sam – he was too far from the store room for the noise to reach him. "Ow!" Abaddon muttered through clenched teeth. "Be careful, idiot," her voice sounded angry but muffled through the box. Her head was now sideways and she could feel the gravity acting at an odd angle on her face even when she was shrouded in darkness again. Not paying mind to the vexed Knight, Tommy used all the might of his little rat nose to push the box. His demon strength came especially handy in this moment. After some initial exploration, he managed to lug the box across the cement floor of the bunker into the garage. It seemed like the only way he would be able to leave unnoticed, even though he'd be running on a timer.

Rows of classy, vintage vehicles lined the walls of the garage, making it look like every collector's paradise. In front of the garage entrance stood a small cubic box with a severed demon's head in it. With a fair bit of struggle, Tommy managed to find the switch and flip it, causing the garage door to slowly open. Having been unopened for decades, the rustic door creaked open upwards, protesting noisily in every corner that had not been oiled in a very long time. If he could cross his fingers, he would have. Racing towards the door, he began pushing the box with a strained exhale as soon as the opening became high enough. Though his muscles seemed like they would give way soon, the demon kept on going, his unholy spirit fuelling the impossibly strenuous movement of the rat's body. It was only when he felt the cool cut of the breeze from the outside did he stop to take a breather. Now he would no longer be limited by this rodent's vessel.

The demon immediately smoked out of the rat in an obsidian flurry, flying off into the distance to retrieve his favoured human vessel. Never again would he complain about the limitations of a human body. As soon as he felt like himself again, he returned to the spot outside the garage of the bunker, picking up the box with a triumphant smile gently pulling up his lips on one side. The now-liberated rat merely gawked at the creature towering above it, traumatised by what it had just been through. Its alarmed squeaking sounded so insignificant from up where Tommy's head was. He grinned condescendingly at the rodent before stepping on it. Its life ended with a single crunch and a spurt of blood shot out of its mouth. With that, he disappeared with the final piece needed to put Abaddon back together.

Sam shifted slightly in his chair. His hand rested on the table, inches away from the handle of his mug. He couldn't tear his eyes off the page he was on, engrossed in an argument written for the use of fire in killing vampires. He shuddered slightly and rubbed his left upper arm with his free right hand. That's when he noticed. _Is there a draught in here?_ He looked around but nothing appeared different. Still, taken by curiosity, he took note of the page number and set down the book before going down the hallway.

Dean's eyes were glued to the laptop screen. Out of the corner of his eye, something moved. His body instinctively flinched, ready to attack the large figure but as soon as he looked – really looked – he relaxed, recognising his mammoth of a brother standing at the now-open door. "Dude, knock next time," he grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

"I… did…" Sam insisted, frowning slightly.

Dean shut the lid of the laptop and put it aside, removing his headphones. "What's up?"

"Hey, is it just me, or has it gotten colder in here?" Sam asked.

Dean simply stared at his brother, thinking it a strange question, until he realised that it did feel a little chilly. "Did you check the thermostat?"

"I did. It's normal," Sam reported. "Heater's working."

Dean's eyes darted around the room in contemplation. "Ghost?" he speculated.

"I- I don't know," Sam replied, puzzled. It seemed like a possibility yet sounded so… unusual. Why would a ghost haunt them _now_? They'd settled in for a while already. Not wanting to take a chance, the boys surveyed the hallways, armed with their salt-loaded shotguns.

"Hey, over here," Dean called out after some time. Sam hurried towards him, not finding anything out of the ordinary. He came to the scene of his brother staring at an open door. "The garage door's open."

"We have a garage?" Sam huffed.

"We do now," Dean answered, heading through the mysterious door. The elder Winchester simply gaped at the array of unused vehicles, awed by their simple shine that was nostalgic of an era past. He sauntered over to an old bike, every muscle in him aching to caress the pristine leather seat.

"Here," Sam snapped him out of his daze. He, on the other hand, was taken by the sight of something on the ground immediately outside the garage. Taking cautious steps, he stepped into the natural light of the cloudy day. His brother joined him soon after and they both halted in their step, confused as ever. There, on the damp gravel, was a dead grey rodent.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 9 March 2012**_

"You seem awfully quiet," Crowley remarked as he stood in front of the archangel. Lucifer simply shrugged. "What, no smart comebacks?"

"Eh," Lucifer did a head-tilt. His eyes were still, blank and lifeless like an unfinished canvas. "Not really feeling… inspired. Your ugly face is still ugly and your dumb plan is still dumb."

"If it's inspiration you want, that can be arranged," Crowley snarked, deviously sauntering over to a table near Lucifer's chair. He picked up a scalpel whose blade appeared so small to Lucifer that it was almost laughable.

"What are you gonna do with that? Tickle me? Ooh, scary," Lucifer said monotonously. Clearly he wasn't even feeling the basal level of sarcasm. It was that kinda day.

"The thing about torture, old chum…" the demon began, uncapping a flask from his coat. He poured some transparent liquid into a small metal dish on the tablet and dipped the end of the scalpel into it. "… is that it requires one to always be at peak creativity. I always thought you knew best about that." With a snap of the finger, the scalpel blade erupted in a signature blue flame. "Anything can be an instrument of torture if _attuned_ just right."

"Holy fire. Huh," Lucifer huffed. "Well I'll be damned again. But I'll tell you what: this little roleplay between us? It doesn't have to be boring. We could play a game. Like uh- like arm wrestling. Yes, we could have an arm wrestling match and loser takes a little 'holy shower', if you know what I mean. I mean, I'd survive that, but you?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, nothing'll happen to you either. Because you're the boss-man and the boss-man always wins, right? What say you, uncuff me for a little _mano a mano_?"

Crowley had a mild look of disappointment mixed with amusement. "I thought you'd at least try to come up with something better," he said, disenchanted.

"Yeah," Lucifer sighed. "Not one of my best." The demon king endured a small moment of silence for the fallen angel. Then, he remorselessly stuck the scalpel into Lucifer's upper arm, eliciting an immediate groan of pain followed by the resolute clenching of teeth. Crowley's fingers seemed to move seamlessly as the he dragged the blade down the arm, making a long, bleeding incision. The archangel was left panting for breath when the demon finally yanked the scalpel out. "That all you got? I've had bug bites worse than that."

"I don't know about you, but I, for one, am glad that holy fire doesn't kill archangels," Crowley declared as he eyed the growing blood stain on Lucifer's sleeve. "It'd be rude for one person to finish first."

"You keep talking sexy and I'll promise to rape your dead corpse before I make a meal out of you and feed it to the Hellhounds," Lucifer snarled, a devious grin lighting up his face like a challenge.

"Some choice words you got there," Crowley pointed out, remaining calm as ever. If anything, Lucifer's outburst reignited the fire in him. "That how you talk dirty to Sophie?"

"Oh you should hear the things that come out of her mouth," Lucifer shot back, almost laughing. "You'd be surprised. Honestly."

"You still remember her fondly, don't you?" Crowley observed.

"Is there a reason not to?" Lucifer asked as if he didn't know the answer. But if Crowley thought he could break him by destroying his image of her, he was wrong. No one could criticise her except for him, he thought.

"You're an idiot in love, you know that?" the demon raised an eyebrow. "She didn't even leave a goodbye note, Luci. Move on!"

"All men are idiots in love, idiot," he sighed. "Even you." When he met Crowley's wondering eyes, he elaborated. "You and that broad I saw on the bridge… that a thing?"

"If you're getting any ideas of using her to get to me, you can forget it," Crowley stated outright. "I'm not as attached as you think. Trusting someone with my feelings? Please, that's a rookie mistake. Case in point: you."

"You're wrong, you know," Lucifer sighed in an almost sing-song fashion. "Love makes you do things. Things you wouldn't normally do." He balled his fists suddenly, almost slamming them against the armrests. A flame seemed to be ignited in him as he recalled his tender memories, speaking now in a sombre tone, "To be in love is to protect that love so fiercely that the earth falls apart underneath your feet. Everyone else be damned. Love is destruction."

The demon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Poetic," he complimented. "Didn't expect that from you. As long as you remain so blind, I'll always be ahead."

"I don't expect you to understand," Lucifer grumbled, shifting in his seat. "You probably have the emotional capacity of a dung beetle."

"Oh I understand, Lucifer. I understand that every moment of her absence makes you question everything you thought you had with her. Why wouldn't it? It's only reasonable, you miserable sod," he retorted. He dipped the scalpel into the dish of holy oil again. Lighting it up, he dragged it down the archangel's right cheek, eliciting a wince of pain. "Not that it's going to save you from this."

Hours later, Crowley finally let up, only leaving the archangel any relief when too many bloody cuts had been made on his body. Some closed soon enough only to be opened again by the eager demon. More tools came into play – nails driven into Lucifer's limbs while their piercing blue flame glowed under his skin being merely one of the many creative innovations the demon had in mind. In all his zeal, however, the demon failed to realise the power of Satan's growls of pain. Who could blame him? Crowley had been thoroughly enjoying himself, so much so that nothing else was apparent. Not even the winds of change in Hell. After all, it was a realm built specifically for the angel in the hot seat.

A strong gust swept over the desolate hinterland that was the Fourth Circle of Hell. With every one of Lucifer's screams, a wave of energy rocked the mounds of ice which had been frozen so hard that they were almost as strong as metal. A tiny web-like crack broke into existence despite the great resistance from years of accumulation of layers of ice. Another scream, another wave of energy. This time, a great big split appeared. With another mighty wave, the whole front face of the mound shattered into tiny blocks. From the ice a dark, greyed figure was revealed. His torso built like a cliff face, his biceps large and unforgiving, his face the very canvas of depravity. He had a thick, dark beard and hair that hung just past his shoulders in messy clumps. There was a hole where his left eye used to be and a single gold earring hung from his left ear.

Hades punched away the remaining bits of the ice in which he'd been encased for millennia. He stepped out into the open, his every breath a grunt. A single black loin cloth wrapped around his waist and hung to his knees in modesty. His black irises scanned the horizon. It was a long way to the passage between the levels of Hell.

 _ **Later…**_

"So?" Lucifer stared in askance at the demon before him, icy blue eyes suggestive of hope. By now his wounds had fully healed but the effort was beginning to take its toll on him. If anything, it made him more impatient. "Is the little toad croaking?"

"We have something, sir," Carl reported with a trembling jaw. He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. His thumb slipped into the fold and nudged it open, revealing the written Latin in it. "She spoke of a spell that could weaken the workings of the system."

"And you're sure she isn't lying?" Lucifer prompted with an expectant voice that meant business. The demon gulped, the paper visibly shaking from his nervous grip. "Carl…" Lucifer stood up, standing too close to comfort as he adjusted the demon's collar and tie. "If this backfires…" He pulled the tie, bringing the demon closer to him in a swift motion that almost caused the demon to lose balance. "It'll be your head."

"I'm… certain," Carl coughed a response. Not a muscle on his face dared twitch. "Sir."

"Good," Lucifer broke into a grin as he set the demon back on his feet. "Now get on with it."

The demon nodded slightly, his heart racing even though the boss appeared satisfied. _Here goes._ " _Renodo fasiculos…_ " Carl raised a palm facing the archangel, feeling his entity come into contact with a firm magical structure of some kind. Consequently, a small white glow appeared under Lucifer's skin, reacting to the incantation. " _… quod ince poro esse co imum."_

Lucifer felt something shift within his vessel. Like the turning of gears, something clicked into place – or out of place, rather. With it came a wave of cool relief, rushing to fill him like the first breeze of winter. Lucifer inhaled a breath of comfort, savouring the feeling as his eyes drifted to a close. "Finally…"

"But sir," Carl interrupted.

The archangel's eyes flung open in response. "What is it?" An impatient look returned to his face.

"Something… something's not right…" The demon used his palm to assay the vessel again, eyebrows contorting in a curious frown. "It's still… it's still there. It's less strong but it's still there."

"She tricked you?!" Lucifer muttered through clenched teeth. "And you said you were sure," he hissed. His palm was raised threateningly, destructive power waiting to act with the command of his fingertips.

"No, no, sir. I think-" Carl put his hands up defensively though his legs were frozen to the spot from how terrified he was. His mouth suddenly felt dry but he gulped all the same. "I think there may be more spells involved. Multiple 'locks' are in place."

"And the witch didn't tell you any of this?" Lucifer questioned, aggravated. He was _so_ close. So tantalizingly close to real freedom but this feat of magical innovation just _had_ to put a bump in the road. He was getting tired of this. He wanted out of these shackles and he wanted it _now_.

"Um, no, but sir- We can get her to talk," Carl reassured his king.

"You'd better. Break every bone in her body if you have to," he ordered, his every word sounding like a needle piercing the air.

Carl stepped back and did a bow that was confused between actually being a respectful gesture and a strong desire to get out of the room of death with Satan in it. He scurried off, not wanting to waste any more time. As soon as he exited the throne room, he took out a handkerchief and anxiously dabbed at the sweat pouring down his forehead. As he hurried in the direction of the place in which they held Esther prisoner out of Crowley's sights, the demon failed to notice the sweeper at the end of the hallway. The sweeper with a mission. The sweeper with open eyes and ears.

Roman pressed his back against a large rock, shifting cover from one end to another as he tracked his target. In his rush to get answers, Carl failed to notice the extra shadow following him. Roman watched him enter the lone shack in the middle of a literal nowhere. This place was so far from the main infrastructure of Hell that you could accidentally fall into the lake of fire if you didn't watch your step. The ground had frighteningly deep cracks that seemingly led into an unending plummet into the deep abyss below. Whatever was in that shack must have been important for the demon to risk such a travel. He watched as Carl entered. That small time-frame when he opened the door was enough. Enough to see a woman, bloody and gagged, tied to a chair inside. A woman Roman recognised. Her face was barely the vision of radiant moonlight that it normally was. Her left eye was swollen shut and the visible parts of her body were full of cuts and bruises. She looked barely intact yet somehow her chest moved with her shallow breaths. That was all Roman needed to see.

* * *

Just as Tommy pulled the needle out, finishing the final stitch, Abaddon's mouth stretched out as if the feeling of her face was new. After all that time spent as pieces, it finally felt good to be whole again. Well, as whole as being an empty-hearted demon with an intact body got. Her bright red fingernails shone like marble as her delicate fingers felt the continuum of her neck to her shoulders. It was all in place. She was ready to go. "Let's get this rodeo started, cowboy," she announced, standing up.

"Uh…" Tommy stuttered as he put down the sewing materials. "There is something you should know before you begin your um… siege, ma'am."

"What is it?" Abaddon snapped, strolling over to a mirror to observe herself in her blood-stained clothing. It was the same one she had on when she was shot and maimed by the Winchesters – mostly denim with a shirt that said 'the Devil made me do it'. A little casual for her taste but she kinda liked its attitude. A gentle smile curved up her hot red lips on one end as she admired herself. Then the demon spoke again.

"It's… it's His Grace. He's kind of stuck in a _situation_ ," Tommy prefaced. "It may be unwise to move in immediately. Some… strategizing might be necessary."

As he explained to her the vessel problem, her face flickered between various states of upset and disbelief, but mostly it was resolute fury. She felt nothing but the vilest concoction of disgust building up in her chest, making her ball her fists. When he finally finished his story, she was simply shocked to silence. " _How?!_ How did any of this happen?" she exclaimed. "How did any of you bottom-dwelling _morons_ let it come to this?!" Tommy flinched as she slammed her fist against the wall, causing a controlled crack to form. "This isn't right. _Hell_ isn't right," she muttered audibly to herself. She paced around in deep thought, her eyes fixed on the creaking wooden floor. Getting Crowley off and Lucifer on the throne would be harder than she initially thought. But it wasn't impossible. She stopped, locking eyes with Tommy. "Follow me. We have work to do."

 _ **Hell – 9 March 2012**_

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that properly. Did you say _Abaddon_ is out and about?!" Crowley yelled at the demon informant before him, who instantly flinched. "How is that possible? You said the Winchesters had it handled."

"I… I don't know… sir," the demon stammered, visibly shaking.

"Well then, FIND. OUT." His snappy tone made the poor informant shiver like a leaf. "What do I pay you lot to do anyway?"

"S-sir, there's one m-more thing," the demon began. "Sh-she seems to be… weeding people out." He gulped. "She's already killed… everyone I work with."

"What's her motive? What's she trying to achieve?" Crowley probed.

"I- I don't know, sir," the demon answered.

"Then why are you still here?" he muttered through clenched teeth. The demon hastily nodded and left. Crowley sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. _Great, just great._ Just when he thought he could begin to enjoy himself, this had to pop up. He didn't even know why he bothered allocating responsibilities like gathering intel to these idiots when all they did was die at the first sign of trouble or blather nonsense if they lived to tell him about it. If Abaddon was truly free and seemingly on a rampage to kill Crowley's intelligence people, that could only mean she was trying to dig up whatever she could on him before she eventually launched an attack. Sure, that was the worst case scenario – perhaps there was a possibility of working out a deal with her – but he couldn't take the chance. He didn't get to where he was without planning for emergencies.

As he sat, twirling his phone between his fingers and a fist resting against his cheek, Roman entered briskly. "Sir-"

"Yes, Roman, please do enter," Crowley lazily welcomed, somewhat reassured by the sight of his crisply-dressed new recruit. "Surely you must bear good news."

Panting, the demon paused in front of him. His body seemed to be saying 'perhaps' but his eyes seemed to be saying 'are you fucking kidding me'. "I'm afraid I can't speak for your definition of 'good news'," he reported.

"Naturally," Crowley responded. "It would just be too reasonable for a day like this to pass without some Hell-shattering news, wouldn't it?" Roman hesitated, eyes darting about as he remained uncertain of how to respond to that. "Go on, tell me then," the King beckoned.

"I found something, Your Grace. It's Lady Esther. She's… she's been kidnapped, sir," Roman informed him. He told of the various kinds of abuse she'd been subjected to and what the demons were trying to pry from her.

"Bollocks," Crowley cursed sharply. His fist clenched so hard that his phone would have snapped if he hadn't cautiously restrained himself. This was bad. It wasn't just bad – it was terrible. His plan was falling apart. If she'd told them anything useful – and it was highly likely from the various abuses Roman had described – he needed a plan and he needed one quick. Everything was falling apart so quickly. The hairs on Crowley's body stood on end, craving the relief of scotch. But not yet. Maybe… he still had another ace up his sleeve.

"What should we do, sir?" the demon stood modestly with his hands behind his back. He appeared sharp and ready for anything, his eyes steady like his posture. Especially in that maroon vest he wore over a long-sleeved white shirt. In a moment like this, his relative calm seemed like just the stability that Crowley needed.

Barely concealing his distress, Crowley stroked his chin in contemplation. Esther was caught, huh? Was that… was that a pang of emptiness in his heart? No, it couldn't be. That was impossible. He didn't feel anything for her, right? It was just a business relationship. And now his business partner was compromised. And that always meant jump-ship-and-run. _Right?_ This was a lot harder than he thought. "What would you do in my situation, Roman?" Crowley asked, purely out of curiosity. So far, his newest informant appeared much smarter than the others. Already he'd proven his capabilities in blending in and being unnoticed. Maybe all Crowley wanted was for this one investment not to go to shit.

"Me, sir?" Roman found himself being continually surprised by every meeting with his King. He certainly didn't mind – it gave him something to look forward to, admittedly. "I would storm in with a militia and kill every single one of them before they could carry out their plot against you, my Lord."

"What if you had another problem that needed your military power? Say, a Knight of Hell who possibly wants to kick you off the throne," Crowley posited, watching him with intrigue as his face contorted with expressions of curiosity and consideration. "Not to mention a certain archangel who you need to maintain your hold on." Roman's eyebrows crinkled slightly at the mention of Lucifer. "Oh, don't pretend you didn't know. You saw what they were doing to Esther. You're probably thinking of changing sides."

"But sir," Roman rushed to reply. "I would never."

"Oh?"

"I mean," he stuttered. "You _are_ the King, my Lord. You still hold the power to defend your Kingdom from usurpers."

"Hm." Crowley's head lifted. This conversation was certainly getting more fascinating. _True loyalty_? That was hard to find.

"Perhaps you could kill two birds with one stone," Roman suggested.

"Go on."

"If this Knight of Hell comes storming in and sees the hold you have over… _him_ … perhaps she would think twice. I know I would. I mean, who wants to mess with a guy who could bring Satan to his knees?" Crowley smiled. He liked the sound of that. Roman continued, "And as for those who plot against you, why not make use of Lucifer? If you can control him, you have what is essentially a nuke. And I say, do a Hiroshima."

The look on Crowley's face seemed ambiguous. Did he approve? Did Roman step out of line in taking that tone with the King? The lower demon couldn't tell. He began to feel a tug of anxiety as soon as the words left his mouth. But Crowley simply said, "Not bad for a sweeper."

* * *

There was almost a spring in his step when Carl returned to the throne room. He had the second spell with him and this time Esther had promised that this was all that was needed to destroy Crowley's control over Lucifer's vessel. That meant Lucifer would be free to take the throne again; free to reward those who had helped him. His legs moved briskly, taking him to that familiar room in the back. He imagined a hundred ways in which he could break the good news to his master. He imagined the pleasant surprise he would see on the archangel's face. He wondered if Lucifer's benevolence would be as magnanimous as his wrath. It had to be, right? Eager to get it over with, Carl twisted the door knob and pushed. But as he entered, he froze in his step, eyes unsure of what to make of what he saw at first. An empty chair. Light filtered into the room from the windows near the ceiling and exposed the bare emptiness before him. _Huh?_

"Looking for something?" a voice said behind him. Carl spun quickly, coming face to face with Crowley's deviant smile. The King was suavely positioned at the centre of the throne room. His eyes seemed to pierce Carl even from where he stood.

"Your Grace, I-"

"You…" Crowley cut him off, his voice curious as he tried to infer what the demon was going to say. "You're here for what, exactly?"

"I uh…" Carl stuttered, trying to come up with some convincing bullshit as to why he was caught in such a suspicious position. "I was told…" Crowley did a half-nod as he tried to follow the argument. "… that I had to get… supplies… from here…"

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, extending an inviting arm. Hesitant, the demon took a few steps towards him so as to not raise further suspicion. "I know I have."

With a snap of his fingers, demons emerged from the darkness and grabbed Carl by the arms. "Hey, what the-" The demon struggled with his captors momentarily until its futility dawned on him. A look of foreboding eclipsed his face. He gulped, unsure of what to expect.

Crowley sauntered over to the traitor, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a piece of paper. "What's this? A spell?" he probed as if he didn't already know what it entailed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were plotting against me, Carl. And treason is punishable by death."

"No, please, Your Majesty!" Carl exclaimed. "I beg for mercy, my King. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Please don't kill me."

"You'll do anything?" Crowley wondered out loud.

"Anything, sir," Carl pleaded.

"Huh." Crowley crushed the paper between his fingers and tossed it onto the floor. He clapped his hands and the doors to the throne room opened, revealing none other than Satan himself, chained and bound by Crowley's people. "Hear that, Lucifer? Your saviour. Willing to sell you out, just like that. Guess you aren't as scary as you thought." Lucifer's eyes seemed to convey an unspoken threat to Carl, who learned then that there were no right moves to be made. On Crowley's command, the demons lugged him closer to the throne as if readying him for a confrontation. Now the throne room appeared crowded, the demonic audience in eager anticipation of what was to come. "I have gathered all of you here on this fine day for a little show-and-tell…"

As Crowley went on and on about his own greatness, Carl looked around the room in despair, still bound by the arms. It looked like everyone was getting really into Crowley's speech, convinced by the sight of the enslaved archangel. This couldn't be it. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. He almost wanted to sink to his knees in a cry of hopelessness when he saw _him._ Tommy. What was he doing back here? Wasn't he supposed to find Abaddon? Yet he was right here, within spitting distance of Carl. Something about the way he was looking at him – those smiling eyes that couldn't contain their excitement – told Carl that something was going on. Through this ambiguous eye contact, Carl tried to point him in the direction of the crushed piece of paper on the ground. Tommy's eyebrows creased in a small frown before he noticed the crushed ball. Taking the cue, Tommy shuffled his feet, inconspicuously kicking the ball into the shadows before retreating into the darkness himself to read it.

It sounded faint at first, but there was a footstep. A big, heavy footstep. "… you should hear it from the man himself. Go on, Lucifer, tell them who the real King is," Crowley taunted. The footsteps got louder. They were slow and seemed to have a steady rhythm. Just as Crowley was about to jeer further, the sound gave him pause. The demons looked around themselves, looking for the source of the noise. Then, through the wide threshold of the throne room, _he_ came. The large, monstrous figure who'd climbed all the way up to the highest level of Hell. Crowley frowned. Now _that_ , he hadn't expected. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?"

A smile cracked on Lucifer's face. _Oh, this is gonna be good._ "Who… are… you…?" Hades grunted, ignoring the demon's question as he stepped forward through the crowd. His speech began slow as the workings of modern English began to filter into his mind.

Crowley shifted his footing. Truth be told, the enormous size of the being before him was beginning to look frightening. Those giant grabbers on him looked like they could crush his skull between them. "I'm Crowley," he stated, trying his best to remain confident. "King of Hell."

"Ha. Funny," he scoffed, glaring at the demon through his sole right eye. "Move aside, demon. I need to talk to the King."

Lucifer suppressed a smirk, though his warm smile still showed. "Nice to see you again, Hades. Sleep well?" he greeted.

"Woah, woah, hold on," Crowley interrupted. "Hades?"

"Are you done playing with those chains?" Hades growled. His voice was coarse and deep that it almost resonated in everyone's chests. "I have an issue to straighten out with you," he said with a clenched jaw. The anger radiated from him in waves. No one dared entertain even the thought of getting near him.

"Of course," Lucifer relented. "But I'm gonna have to ask a favour first." He pointed a finger at Crowley. "Get rid of him," he whispered loudly.

Crowley's eyes widened as he looked between them. But Hades remained where he stood, locking eyes with the archangel. "Do it yourself," Hades spat out bitterly, much to Crowley's relief. "Demons are your problem. Not mine."

Hades turned away, ready to leave. "What about Persephone? Is she your problem?" Lucifer's words halted his step. He turned back to face the archangel. "You want to know what became of her, don't you?"

Hades snarled, nose crinkling. "Where is she?"

"I'll tell you, but… tit-for-tat?" Lucifer negotiated, eyes playful with hope.

Hades grunted an exhale. His eyes met Crowley's. "What are you waiting for, idiots? Defend your King!" Crowley demanded.

The demons exchanged confused looks and then moved messily to oblige. They attacked the Greek god from all sides, only to get tossed about like salad. Taking notice of the scuffle, more demons piled into the room in an attempt to overwhelm him. Amidst all the chaos, Tommy managed to sneak around to where Lucifer was. "My King," he greeted as he unfurled the piece of paper he'd picked up.

Crowley watched in sheer amusement as the load of all the demons became too much even for Hades to handle. He never thought he'd see the day when a bunch of demons overpowered the freakin' Greek god of the Underworld. But it was educational nonetheless – he needed to find out more about this connection between Lucifer and Hades. What was that all about? He pushed the thought out of his mind as Hades struggled under the weight of what looked to be a dozen or more demons. With one great yell, he pushed them all off of him and took off in a ceremonious exit. "Well that was anticlimactic," he remarked, brushing off a speck of dust from his collar. He couldn't help but grin at the thought of what just happened. "It just isn't your day, is it, Lucifer?"

"The day is still young…" Lucifer drawled. Just as Crowley was about to turn to him…

"Hey!" a sharp female voice now caught his attention. Flaming red hair came into view and an entourage of demons suddenly entered, brandishing blades and stabbing every demon in sight. Crowley's own retaliated in response like an addendum to the skirmish that had just occurred.

"Abaddon, right on time," Crowley greeted. "Luckily I have just the treat for you." He snapped his fingers. As she watched, nothing in particular happened. Her light blue eyes stared at him in askance. Puzzled, Crowley chanced a look at Lucifer. And there he stood, out of his chains and free, hands on his hips.

"Expecting something?" he teased.

"Wait, no," Crowley stammered. He snapped his fingers again. Nothing happened. The sudden fruitlessness of his plan finally dawned upon him. He looked between the Knight of Hell and… the King of Hell. "I think I understand now…" he blabbered as his mind raced with plans of escape. Lucifer took a step towards him, making him step backwards in response. "You… are… the King… and I… can be of valuable help…"

"Yes, I do think that the hounds haven't been fed properly in a while," Lucifer suggested as he waltzed over. Crowley took more defensive steps towards the exit though it was positively blocked by Abaddon. "But you are right about one thing, though: Treason is punishable by death."

"Wait, wait a minute," Crowley held up a finger in a desperate attempt to bargain for his life. "The crossroads… flourished under my supervision. Let me take it back again and prove my worth. I can- I can be of use, you know."

"Hm," Lucifer sighed.

"Crowley!" a voice called out from behind him. There, bound in shackles was none other than the beaten and battered form of Esther. She appeared as a shadow of her former self, recognisable yet in a miserable state covered in blood.

"What do we have here?" Abaddon smirked, grabbing Esther by the arm and yanking her into the throne room. "New playtoy, my liege?"

"This, my dear, is Crowley's favourite lady-friend, as I hear it," Lucifer explained.

"Oh?" Abaddon had a look of pleasant surprise, no doubt hiding sinister intentions underneath. "He's done quite well for himself, hasn't he? She's still standing!"

Crowley watched in mild bewilderment as he watched the scene unfold. Carefully, he took small steps backwards. The exit seemed unimpeded now. "Tell you what, Crowley, come and get your little girlfriend here from Abaddon and I'll let you walk out of here," Lucifer proposed gleefully. "Come on, no tricks. _I promise._ "

Crowley and Esther's eyes met for the first time in a long time. Her hand reached out to him unknowingly, craving his very touch. After all she'd been through, a single loving caress was all she needed. Seeing him then, unhurt in front of her, gave her a little hope. He'd get through this. He was smart. She just needed to trust him. "Crowley," she uttered his name through a swollen lip. It tickled her lips through all that pain, urging a smile though she wouldn't bare one until she was safe in his arms. But as she watched, Crowley took a few steps back, turned, and disappeared. Needles of pain pierced her chest.

"Aw, guess he wasn't that into you, huh?" Lucifer remarked. He stepped down from the elevated platform on which the throne was seated. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back. "It's alright. You and me, we're gonna have a great time. A witch would be… a great addition to my forces."

"Oh I doubt that," Esther spat out, wincing at the tension he exerted on her head. She managed a snarky smile that gave Lucifer pause. "That second spell… comes with a price…"

"What price?" Abaddon demanded to know, looking between Lucifer and the witch.

"Release me and I'll tell you," Esther bargained.

"Oh you'll tell me, alright," Lucifer reassured her, unamused. "Don't know if you ran into my old pal Hades just now, but let me tell ya something – he doesn't remember what his Persephone looks like. So if I were to tell him, say, that you're his lovely wife – who he kidnapped and raped, by the way – imagine what he'd do to you." Esther's eyes widened at the thought. Lucifer smirked. "You can tell me the truth before you get all your holes resized, or after. It's up to you, really. Think about it." Lucifer exhaled, baring a toothy grin as he turned in a circle slowly with his arms outstretched. It felt _good_ to be King again. "Abaddon, be a doll and escort our guest here to her cell."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," the Knight happily obliged.

"Hell is back in business, baby," he announced as he plopped onto his throne, satisfied. He leaned forward, his right elbow resting on his knee in a regal pose. The demons were struck by his nefarious gaze, now fully present and demanding subservience. One by one, they knelt before him, pledging their allegiance.


	66. The Number of The Beast

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 66: The Number of the Beast**

 _ **Hell – 17 March 2012**_

Lucifer stood over a table with a bunch of papers scattered about in his private study, which was located on the top floor of the palace. The whole floor was cordoned off as his personal space, where no one but himself was allowed unless he'd expressly permitted someone else to enter. Typically, that person was his Queen, who had her own room at the end of the hallway. It was where she'd woken up after he found her. Then there was the library, full of books that she would read. There was the armoury, where he'd kept a large collection of weapons and had a training space. This open display didn't include a secret, unviolated cabinet where he'd kept his most prized of arms, of course. The armoury had a large open-air balcony that oversaw much of the Kingdom and the courtyard below, where he'd observe the demons train. Under his watchful gaze, some of the most powerful demons had emerged and rose to the ranks. Over time, of course, their standards had deteriorated badly. He would see to it that his army was as mighty as it once was. Couldn't be a King of losers and pussies, after all.

His first task was to get up to speed on what had been happening on Earth. All these reports were Crowley's – say what you will about the guy, but at least he had the sense to keep tabs on important things. His studious blue eyes roved over all the documents before he picked up a single piece of paper on which he'd drawn a symbol that he'd muddled over for a while now – the Aquarian star encased in a circle.

"I've seen that before," Abaddon told him as she stood with her arms respectfully clasped behind her back next to him. "Men of Letters. Had a run-in with them in the past, unfortunately for them."

"Apparently they have something of interest to me," Lucifer muttered. His hands scoured through some papers and arrived on a folder which he then brought to the forefront. Opening it, he and Abaddon found images of the temporary HQ in America, which Crowley had been keeping an eye on apparently.

"Well, I've wiped them out before. I can do it again," Abaddon offered. Her thick, cherry lips curved into a smile as she gazed at him. Her heart almost skipped a beat at the thought of getting to work with the Dark Lord himself. It was… an honour. Especially to be the highest-ranking demon present – the one he'd give all the responsibilities to. The one he'd reward.

"Yes, _we_ will," Lucifer said, keeping his eye fixed on the folder. "I need updated intel on them. Handle it."

"Yes, sir," Abaddon complied.

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 17 March 2012, A cloudy morning**_

It was another day. Another gruelling day of work with an uncooperative vessel and a wealth of mysteries that needed answering. The scientists were perplexed by the various items found in Zara's possession – an archangel sword, a bronze hawk statue of an unknown and ancient element and some books written in Enochian talking about things that they didn't quite understand. Some statistical analysis combined with rudimentary translations revealed the books to be containing spells. What the spells were intended for, they weren't so sure. The palm-sized statue posed an even greater question. Did the angels have craftsmanship? What was this unique metal that was not known to man? It seemed resistant to any kind of identification and they didn't quite know what its significance was. Five months of investigating all of these things yet not much was known.

A car pulled up outside the wire gates. Tom pulled down the window and displayed his identification, as was protocol. A signal was sounded and the gate shifted open. His face was blank, void of any emotion, as he wordlessly parked the car. Entering the office, he took off his dark coat and went to get a cup of coffee to relax. "How was your hunt?" Toni asked from where she was seated opposite his desk.

"It was successful. The States is ten vampires down," he reported, stirring some creamer into his mug.

"Good," Toni smiled. "I'll write a glowing report of your successes to the home base."

"Sure," he monotonously said, settling at his desk with the same dearth of emotion he had for the last few weeks. Toni's smile faded, seeing as he wasn't reciprocating the gesture.

"We have to celebrate the small victories, Tom. Now more than ever," she advised, maintaining a concerned gaze on him.

" _Sure_ ," he said, with more duration and sarcasm this time. His eyes were fixed on his desk. Toni was pretty sure he'd refused to make eye contact with anyone ever since the tragic news had come in. He just hadn't been the same. All life had drained out of him and he'd been a living robot. Not that she blamed him – it must be tough dealing with the loss of a significant other. She just wished she could do something to help him.

Toni shifted her focus back to her computer screen. A new update had just come in. Her forehead creased. "Tom, I have something. Come take a look," she beckoned. As they both looked at the screen, bewilderment eclipsed their expressions. "There aren't supposed to be so many demons near us. We're warded. What's going on?"

"Somehow they've found out where we are. Do you think they're here for Zara?" Tom conjectured.

"How's that possible? It was a demon that handed her over. The King of Hell himself," Toni rebutted. "I'm gonna find out what's going-"

"No, I'll go," Tom interrupted, already making his way back to his desk.

Toni tilted her head, puzzled by him. "Tom, stop," she requested. When he didn't oblige, she continued, "It's my turn to take a field trip."

"It's alright. I've got it, don't worry," he reassured her, all while busying himself and looking at anything but her.

"Tom," she called out again. "You've been doing too many field assignments. It's exhausting. Take a break."

"I'm not tired," he answered.

Toni let out a deep exhale. Someone had to say something. "This isn't good for you, you know. I'm sorry to bring it up but you can't keep distracting yourself from grief. You have to deal with it head-on," she said as sincerely as she could.

Tom paused whatever he was doing. His heart palpitated in irregular rhythms, pounding so loudly he thought it might be using his stomach as a trampoline and would shoot straight out of his chest any time now. His muscles fluttered uncomfortably. An unending series of images and thoughts shot through his head at light speed, uninvited and against his consent. He hated this. This was why he needed a distraction so bad. "How about you don't tell me how to grieve?" he uttered, not even thinking before the words escaped his mouth. "I mean," he shut his eyes, immediately regretting his tone. "Look, you're better at handling things here. And I really need this. It's how I cope."

Toni eyed him blankly. At least he was talking about it. That was an improvement. "Be careful, now," she said, with a gentler tone.

Zara, by now, managed to sit in the same spot for days in a row. No thoughts went through her head. And if they did, they were barely coherent. Some days they just pumped her full of drugs to get her calm down because she was getting more and more psychotic episodes – periods of time when she'd see things, hear things and scream things. Sometimes when the guards came to restrain her, she'd attack them, thinking they were some kind of dark entity come to hurt her. She'd spent some time in a strait jacket from time to time when they were too lazy to monitor her episode for its whole duration. She didn't know what the hell they were giving her but she knew for sure that her hallucinations were of little importance to them – or utmost interest, rather.

The drugs calmed her down, typically, but the hallucinations got worse. They weren't interested in curing her of them. They just wanted to know about the things she saw. Maybe they thought she'd see something that she was hiding from them and talk about it out loud, thinking no one could hear her. If that was the case, they had another thing coming because she didn't know what the hell she was seeing. Some mysterious being who never said anything or did anything. And the only thing she knew to do was scream in his presence and try to get as far from him as possible.

Back in the nearby town, Tom briskly walked down the street in his long coat, business-minded. He was so caught up in his head that he walked straight past a certain angel in a copper-coloured coat. Raziel's gaze followed Tom as he saw the human almost brushing his shoulder. He observed his no-nonsense gait with a frown-riddled expression but didn't pursue him. He wasn't here for the Men of Letters. Not yet anyway. The angel carried on in his trajectory, turning into an abandoned alley. There, a pair of black eyes awaited him underneath a hoodie. "Raziel," the informant greeted him from his position leaning against a wall.

"Demon," Raziel replied expressionlessly. He reached out into his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. "Payment for your boss, as usual."

"Oh that won't be necessary this time," he smirked mischievously, straightening up. Raziel's shoulders tightened. Something was wrong. He turned around to find himself surrounded by five more demons, at least one of whom was holding an angel blade.

"Your boss and I had a deal," Raziel insisted through a clenched jaw.

"Boss is dead," Hoodie snapped. "We had a bit of a spring cleaning and the old boss got the boot. From life. Which means, deal's off."

"What?" Raziel muttered, the situation not getting any clearer for him. "I thought he kept our arrangement out of Crowley's sights."

"Well, Crowley's not in charge anymore," he gloated. The demons grinned, some even snickered. They took a step towards him and he inched away, watching his step.

"Then who is?" Raziel asked. This was… strange. And all the demonic energy in this place… it was all out of whack.

"The one and only," Hoodie half-tilted his head. "Satan."

"No…" The angel's eyes widened in shock. This… this was bad. No, it was horrible. Satan's back? Earth was in trouble. As if they didn't have enough to deal with already.

"Uh, yes," the demon rebutted. "Which means it's Hell on Earth and Earth in Hell, baby."

The demon behind Raziel charged forward. The angel leapt away, narrowly missing the stab of the blade. He brandished his own blade, expertly parrying with them and kicking them away. If what the demon said was true, he needed to discuss this matter with his friends immediately. As soon as he got an opening, he spread his wings and took off, leaving the demons in a daze.

* * *

"… _take…"_ A sudden whispering came to senses. Zara flinched. _Who said that?_ She looked around her cell. _"Take… his… hand…"_

The door creaked open. As per usual, she was escorted to whatever day-time activities they had planned for her. Except that day was different. She had an unusual sense of clarity about her. Her head buzzed here and there but her vision was sharp, which only confused her further. A sense of absurdity overcame her as she remembered the past few weeks. _Was I really… hallucinating?_ She knew it to be fact yet this renewed sense of personhood made it all seem like a dream. But it couldn't be, since she was still trapped in this building, surrounded by all the same walls she'd seen a thousand times.

Her legs seemed to move automatically in step with the guards, as they usually did while her mind was elsewhere. But now that she was present, she could see that they took a left turn where normally they'd take a right. It was a strange dissonance that produced an almost-physical sensation of something being out of place. In all the five months that she'd been held prisoner here, not once had she been allowed this left turn. _What's happening?_ She frowned, almost to the point of hurting her eyes, as one guard held the elevator door open and another kept a restraining arm on her back while she entered. The cold metallic texture of the elevator floor was a sharp contrast to the carpeted interior that she was used to. Every second seemed amplified as the sheer anxiety of what was to come shot through her, making her hairs stand on ends and a sick feeling grow in her stomach.

The basement. It was much darker in here, like a tunnel that led into nothingness. The hallway before them was lit by but a few yellow lights overhead, retaining mysterious dark patches among spots of light. The constant sound of mumbling and footsteps shuffling implied that there were more people here than she could see. Zara felt an uneasiness creep up her back as she was led into a room with a single overhanging light overlooking an empty chair. She immediately knew what this was. Creepy room, single-seater? Yeah, torture.

"Today's going to be a little different," Toni introduced, as Zara was securely tied to the chair. Zara said nothing. Her lips were sealed shut not only from defiance, but also from not having spoken much for a long time. Her vocal tracts felt so unused, just like her sanity. "You may have been averse to answering our questions in the past, but I can assure you that today, you will speak. Ms Watt, please."

A woman that Zara had never seen before stepped forward, dragging a table with what seemed to be instruments of torture along with her. She approached too close for comfort and sharply pulled Zara's head back by a tuft of her hair. "Better play along," Ms Watt snarled in her ear. "Don't want to find yourself running out of blood, do you?"

Zara's teeth clenched, somehow still finding the energy to resist. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf almost. The thoughts of what they might do terrified her. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to care enough about it. If this was the end of the line, so be it. She was drained of all will. She didn't want to do this anymore. In fact, she was morbidly curious about how much pain she could take. _Sophia, if you're hearing this… this is what I'm willing to do…_

"You've been having hallucinations as of late, yes?" Toni's question snapped her out of her thoughts. Zara's irises, though trained on Toni, slowly came into focus. "What have you been seeing?"

 _That… that's it? They wanna know about my delusions?_ "Uh…" Zara cleared her throat. Her mouth felt so dry. "There's… there's a shadow-man."

"What does he look like?" Toni continued.

"A shadow?" Zara puzzled. "Isn't it self-explanatory?"

"Hey! Don't think you can get smart," Ms Watt interrupted with a stern voice.

"Does this shadow-man say anything?" Toni pursued, maintaining her cordial composure.

Zara thought to the voice she heard earlier. It kinda resembled the voice she heard in the sensory deprivation tank. That humanoid thing that she saw in the strange black place that morphed from gooey substance. "No, he just stands in the corner and stares," she answered, gaze wandering to the floor. "He doesn't even have a face."

"Was it a demon?" Ms Watt suddenly cut in. Her demanding schoolteacher voice just put Zara off, but she suppressed rolling her eyes.

"No, it was not a demon," Zara sighed.

"But if you couldn't see his face, how could you have known?" she rebutted.

"He didn't _have_ a face," Zara explained. "Besides, didn't you guys ward the place? Because if you didn't, shame on you," she mocked, a smug smile lighting up her face for the first time in forever.

In a split second, a fist came crashing at the side of her face and the breath was knocked out of her. She almost gaped, having not expected that. She was still reeling from the sudden blow as she looked back at Toni, who stood as she had always been while Ms Watt was poised at the ready closer to her chair. "Don't get snarky, princess. And we'll be asking the questions from now on," Ms Watt said, her beady eyes fixed on Zara.

"Have you, or have you not had any contact with demons in the last few weeks?" Toni asked.

The ridiculousness of the question showed on her face even with the dull, radiating ache from Zara's right jaw. "No," she replied, almost uncertain if this was a trick question.

"She's lying," Ms Watt concluded. "Gotta be."

Toni's eyebrows crinkled a little as she studied the girl before her. Despite her complete lack of trust, Toni couldn't help but wonder if Zara was telling the truth. The whole situation seemed a little suspicious to her in the first place – somehow she thought Zara was incapable of causing it. "You've been astral projecting in the tank. Where have you been going?" Toni brought up.

"I don't know," Zara answered. Another stifled gasp escaped her lips as the other side of her face was struck. "It's the truth!" she spat out, beginning to get aggravated. Her honesty was being rewarded with pain.

"Then what do you see in the astral projections?"

"I…" Her eyes shut as she struggled to recall the details. "It was dark. Really dark. That's all I remember."

"Are you sure that's all you saw?" Toni pressed.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to say," Zara shot back.

"Demons, Zara," Toni pointed out. "Did you talk to them? Communicate with them somehow?"

" _No_ ," Zara denied, voice growing cold. "How could I have? If you forgot, _Toni,_ maybe I should remind you that it's a demon's fault that I'm here."

Toni simply stared at her with those shark-like eyes as a brief moment passed. Ms Watt took that as a cue and promptly broke out the toys. Zara's breathing grew rapid and shallow as she saw what was to come. A small knife with a curved blade found its edge tracing her forearm. Her nails dug so deep into her palm that she could feel the marks left on her skin. She grunted through a tight jaw as she felt her skin being torn. Her body inevitably struggled to move away from the source of pain but found no such relief.

"We'll come back to this later," Toni said. "What do you know of Lucifer's powers?"

Zara winced, the pain still coming through in waves. She panted, trying to find a period of relief though her head was swimming. "He can… he can…" she tried to push out the words. "… fuck you up."

Toni gave a short nod and Ms Watt moved in again, this time tightening a garrotte around her neck. She pulled on the leather and Zara's eyes widened at the sudden feeling of being cut off from the rest of her body. Her panic grew every second as she struggled for breath. Cold tingles pricked the tips of her ears and lips. And then, the garrotte released and she gulped air like it was water into her lungs. The friction still stung on her neck. Her vision was invaded by black dots, a protracted reminder of how close she was to death. She bit her lower lip – it felt numb. "Tell us something we don't know, cunt," Ms Watt snapped.

"I… I wasn't around him for very long…" Zara admitted with a breaking voice.

"What did he have you do after you went missing?" Toni asked.

"I don't remember," Zara remained defiant. Toni released a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. She looked at Ms Watt expectantly. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 _ **British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 17 March 2012, A perfect time doesn't exi-**_

The sky was overcast when Lucifer found himself overlooking the dull establishment. In there, past the wired gates and brick walls was what he'd been looking for. A small cloud of white mist formed as he exhaled. The hill he stood on gave him a good vantage point to see what exactly he was up against. It was nothing special, not really anyway. What was inside was hidden from his supernatural sight, but not for long.

"It's heavily warded, sir," Abaddon chimed in from his right. "How are we going to get past it?"

"Those people in there – they think that the warding's gonna protect them from people like us," Lucifer replied calmly, watching his plan being set in motion right before him. "And they're right. But it's not gonna protect them from more of themselves."

Abaddon's heart fluttered. She didn't know exactly what that meant but she could feel the excitement of what was to come. This was going to be good. Her keen grey eyes spotted some movement down below. First it seemed to be only three men. They charged forward, guns blazing, taking out the security at the front post. At the rate they went in with their machine guns, those guards didn't stand a chance. More followed behind and one of them threw a grenade, ripping open the wired gates with a deafening boom. Just like that, the militia gained entry into the compound. As was expected, a loud siren blared from the building, alerting all its occupants to the invasion. Without wasting a second, the militia got to work rigging the front exterior of the building with explosives. Yelling praises to God, they stood at a safe distance before blowing a huge gap where the front doors used to be.

The Knight's eyebrows knotted in confusion. That seemed counterintuitive. Lucifer chuckled at the sight. "You pay 'em well enough, and they don't even question you," he answered before Abaddon could ask. "Those poor jihadis just wanted to raise a little hell on American soil. And hey, I own Hell. Must irk Dad a lot to watch these idiots. Works for me." Abaddon huffed a smile. Lucifer raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "You did well. Your part's over," he ordered in fluent Arabic.

"We don't take orders from you, American," the leader of the militia rebutted in his native tongue. Lucifer rolled his eyes. With a sweep of the arm, he made appear an RPG and steadied it as he pointed it at the building. Specifically, the entrance. There, the mercenaries were gathered as two of them had gone in to scope the place. Just the right moment, it was. The archangel pulled the trigger.

(Cue N.I.B. by Black Sabbath)

 _~Some people say my love cannot be true_

 _Please believe me, my love, and I'll show you_

 _I will give you those things you thought unreal_

 _The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal~_

A loud hiss resounded as the rocket propelled straight in its trajectory. The man who'd talked to him earlier jerked his head in the direction of the sound, his eyes wide with the inescapable vision of death heading straight in his direction. Barely a stutter escaped the men's lips. There was only the sound of yet another explosion, the smell of burnt human flesh and the unmistakable splatter of human blood and guts on the doorstep to the Men of Letters' temporary headquarters. Now that the building was physically breached, the warding was unstable.

"Send the boys in," Lucifer ordered, cold-faced.

 _~Follow me now and you will not regret_

 _Leaving the life you led before we met~_

Abaddon did a gesture and within a second, she was poised in front of the compound, an army of demons behind her. At once, they charged into the building. A malicious grin was plastered across her face. Armed Men of Letters came out to face them but in an instant, they were no more. It hadn't even been thirty seconds and the crimson smear of blood lined Abaddon's arms and face, complementing her auburn hair. Empty bullets littered the floor, all having served no use against Hell's army. By the time that the Men of Letters figured out that they were up against demons, it had been too late for many of their members. Abaddon kept walking and never had to stop for a single moment. The last thing many of them saw was the unmoved, nightmarish smile that bore her teeth, reminiscent of the Joker. A snapped neck here, a ripped chest there – she was having the time of her life. And then she found the armoury. Her eyes glistened like a child opening a Christmas present as she opened up the box full of weapons.

 _~You are the first to have this love of mine_

 _Forever with me 'till the end of time~_

Lucifer himself did not hesitate to get in on the action. His mind was set on a single goal. A man with a measly handgun shuddered before him as he unloaded the clip. Unfazed by the bullets, Lucifer grabbed the man by the neck, digging his fingers into the man's trachea. Slowly, he pulled his fingers down, watching as the skin peeled away and the blood spattered out. The man's protesting arms felt like the tap of an ant's legs to the archangel. On the far wall, a crucifix hung. Blood dripped from Christ's eyes, before the fake nails gave way and he fell, leaving the bare crucifix to rotate about its axis. Lucifer raised his arms and closed his eyes, summoning a strong gust of wind. The whole building was rocked as thunder raged in the sky. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, his eyelids flung open and he spun around, just in time to catch the handle of an axe as it was being swung by a foolhardy woman, who looked like she instantly regretted every decision she ever made in her life to lead her there. It would have been easy then for him to rip the axe out of her hand and slice her cleanly through with it, but Lucifer chose instead to grab her throat and ask her a single question.

 _~Your love for me has just got to be real_

 _Before you know the way I'm going to feel_

 _I'm going to feel_

 _I'm going to feel~_

 _ **Down in the basement…**_

The three women flinched simultaneously when the earth-shattering explosion rocked them where they stood – or sat, in Zara's case. She shuddered, her body still reeling from the exhausting series of torments she'd just endured. Blood dried on her skin uncomfortably and she was sure she had a broken rib and nose. Her mouth felt dry from taking on the responsibility her nose couldn't handle, which counted as a blessing because that meant she wouldn't be able to smell the burnt skin on her right ankle. "What the bloody hell was that?" Ms Watt exclaimed. The ear-piercing alarm sounded, which only made Zara groan – as if she hadn't suffered enough blows to her gourd already. Another explosion sounded, this time quaking the whole building to its core. The ceiling light dangled slightly.

Toni's eyes wandered upwards in an attempt to glean understanding. There was the muffled sound of rapid gunfire. She gasped, exchanging a look of foreboding with her associate. No words were exchanged between them as they rushed out of the room to find out what was going on. "I'll… just… wait… here…" Zara muttered nasally as she heard the door shut. She spat out some blood that had pooled in her mouth and closed her eyes, her head swimming with nothing but agony. _Someone kill me, please._ The door clicked open, letting in a clearer sound of the siren. "Here to finish the job?" she asked, not even bothering to lift her head.

"Zara," a masculine voice sounded this time. "You have to get out of here."

Zara's eyes fluttered open. She saw him cutting the ropes that bound her wrists and legs to the chair. Suddenly, a sweet release of coldness erupted in those bound regions as the ropes fell away. "Tom?" Zara was confused as all hell. The Brit looked like he'd seen too much. His blue eyes pleaded her to accept what he was saying.

"There's no time to explain," he rushed. "Here," he thrust a bag in her lap. "All your things are in there. Listen to me very carefully: the demons are here. I think they want to kill you."

She was about to stutter a question when he put her left arm around his shoulder and lifted her off the chair. She limped a few steps forward. As if to deny her this taste of freedom, the muscles in her thighs began cramping really hard. Her knees buckled but before she hit the ground, Tom lurched forward and held her upright. He dragged her out the door, making towards a back exit. It was here in the hallway that the true weight of the situation dawned on her. All the lights had been cut out. There was only a pulsing, deep red light interspersed at regular intervals in the hallway, casting the rest of the long, narrow space in pitch darkness. "Why are you helping me?" Zara croaked as he lugged her in the general direction of an exit. The whole building fell eerily silent.

In the darkness, the only sound she could hear was Tom's shallow breathing. "Because," he heaved a deep breath. His voice was almost like a cry. "Because what we did to you was wrong. Everything was wrong. Having you here was wrong. All so, so wrong."

Zara was practically helpless at this point. It was the combination of stress, bad nutrition, trauma, temporary insanity and now, physical wounds. It was all interfering with her ability to process the situation. But once she'd understood enough, she tugged against him. Lightly at first, it didn't work. Then she summoned all her strength and pulled herself away, almost knocking herself off balance. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded to know. Tom simply stared in shock. They were both standing directly opposite each other, with Zara facing what looked to be an elevator shaft behind Tom. The alarm light on the wall pulsed rapidly, spraying an ominous scarlet on Tom's face while Zara stood shrouded in darkness.

"Zara, there's no time for this," he tried his best to keep calm. He extended a cautious arm towards her as if to show that he meant no harm. "Please trust me. I can get you out of here."

She shook her head slowly in denial. It seemed too good to be true. She limped a step backwards, pain still radiating from where her torturer held a flaming torch to her foot. With all her strength, she held that comforting leather bag close to her chest as if it was her only protection. She didn't know what to do. Maybe Tom was telling the truth – maybe he did want to help her. But then what? He'd probably just hand her over to the Men of Letters again. _No thanks._ But what other choice did she have? She didn't know what the hell was going on. Perhaps she'd take backtracking and hiding in some dark corner of the basement over following this man who had been nothing but an accomplice to the torment she'd endured.

"I'll let you go, Zara!" Tom begged. "I promise. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Just please, please come with me."

This was the relief he needed. It had been weighing down on him since Day One, but it had gotten a lot worse after what happened to the love of his life. This project had screwed over everyone involved and it seemed like he was the only one who saw it coming. If he let her go now… perhaps there was room for redemption. A chance to move past the atrocities he'd seen and been part of. A final act to seek forgiveness from the universe. The possibility of having a good night's sleep. Zara almost felt sorry for him. That look on his face… he seemed desperate. She didn't know what his story was but something about him just said that maybe… maybe this was for real. She released a deep exhale. Her warm breath formed a cloudy mist. Zara frowned at the sight. A chilly breeze swept through them from the elevator shaft. Tom too noticed the change – how the hairs on his arms suddenly stood up to protect him from the cold air. He shifted his focus back to Zara and saw her eyes move just the tiniest bit and then widen in shock. "Nick?" she called out.

 _~Now I have you with me, under my power_

 _Our love grows stronger now with every hour~_

Tom turned around. A gasp got caught in his throat. His head craned downwards to see an arm buried deep in his chest. Blood trickled down said arm as Tom's consciousness faded away. The hand jerked out of the man's chest, leaving him to fall with a loud 'thud'. Zara flinched, falling backwards. Her breathing accelerated as she stared at the man before her. She recognised his face – his deadpan expression that regarded her with an ambiguous neutrality. She scrambled backwards on the floor, terrified. When he stepped into the darkness, it all became clear.

 _~Look into my eyes, you will see who I am~_

His eyes… they glowed a flaming red. She trembled as she saw his silhouette shift. He simply reached out a hand to her.

 _~My name is Lucifer, please take my hand~_

She remembered the voice. The haunting voice. Looking into the eyes of fire, her own hand extended upwards, finding his grip like Adam in Michelangelo's famous painting.

* * *

 _ **Hell**_

This moment felt unreal. The freedom felt so fresh. And God, was she grateful to have gotten out of that cement concentration camp that she'd been stuck in for so long. But now what? She was sat in this room at a round table in Lucifer's quarters. He was silently observing Zara from where he was seated opposite her. Healed of all her wounds, she still didn't appear her normal self. She looked like she needed a month's worth of bedrest and a shower. She refused to make eye contact with him, unsure of what to say or do. His own silence did not help. What should you say to someone you betrayed, who also rescued you from hell and then brought you to… Hell? And if that someone was Satan? "Listen," he broke the silence. His voice brought back distant memories of momentary happiness. Zara tried to push the thought to the back of her head. None of that meant anything now. "Here's how this is going to work: I'm going to ask you questions-"

"I'll tell you everything," she cut him off. Her left hand traced the intact skin of her right forearm, where a nasty gash was mere hours ago. "Anything you want to know."

"Oh," Lucifer raised his eyebrows in surprise. _That was easy._ "Okay, then." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He could give her points for cooperation; have a little mercy when her due punishment came (and it would). "You hungry? I could get you some food-"

"God, yes," she rushed to answer, eyes widening in desperation. "I mean, Satan, yes."

Lucifer watched her scarf down plates of food, one after the other, as if he was watching a nature documentary. He couldn't understand it – this… _need_ for consumption. Being driven by your body rather than your mind. It seemed to possess her as she attacked a plate of pasta and a cup of juice at once. He sat there patiently for the longest time, one leg over the other and arms folded as she ate to her heart's content, quietly judging her but not saying anything just so he could get to the part where she gave him answers. When the last sip of liquid left her glass, Zara leaned back into her chair, content. A servant entered and cleared the dishes.

Now it was just the two of them. Zara's thumbs fiddled under the table. Her lips parted and closed a few times, searching for the right words in thin air. "I know you're wondering what the hell happened," she began. It was probably bad to speak without his cue, but she did it anyway. She didn't care what happened to herself anymore – not that she did much to begin with. "And you deserve to know everything. I just- I just want to… apologise." Her brown eyes begged him for forgiveness. If Lucifer had a heart, he'd probably feel something. Maybe pity. "There's… a lot that you need to know, Lucifer. I don't even know… where to begin."

Silence fell between them again. "Hm," Lucifer's head bobbed. "You know, I'm gonna be honest with you, Zara: I want nothing more than to hold you down onto the burning surface of the Lake of Fire while your skin tears apart in my hands." Zara nodded, biting her lip in nervousness. "But this honesty from you? It's refreshing. It's exactly what I need right now. I can appreciate that. But that won't get you off the hook so easy."

"I don't imagine it will," she relented, shoulders drooping.

"Tell me about my son," he demanded, maintaining a cold gaze on her. "Is he dead?"

Zara's eyes hesitantly met his. "No," she answered. "But you'll wish he was. Sophia's words, not mine."

"I knew it," he uttered, jaw clenched. Unable to control himself, he let the slightest emotion slip as his face contorted in a mixture of betrayal and confusion. "She lied to me. Why did she do that?" he asked no one in particular.

"I think… she didn't know if she would see him again. She obscured the truth from you so that she could spare you the pain of uncertainty," Zara explained. Her own chest felt heavy with grief.

"Don't try to tell me what she wanted," he snapped at her. She flinched in her seat, her heart racing. "As if you could speak for her."

"Well, I think I can," she calmly asserted. She was walking a fine line here, not knowing what would trigger him. But she spoke her mind anyway, knowing that he needed to hear nothing but the truth. "She was in my head, Lucifer. That kind of gives me access to her thoughts and feelings." He narrowed his eyes at her, shifting forward in his seat, threatening a move. "I think that's why she sent me to find you. To be her voice. For you. And I… I failed you both. I'm- I'm so sorry."

Lucifer rested an elbow on the armrest of his chair, his palm raised upwards. In a swift move, he clenched his fist. Zara half-expected to explode. But a few seconds passed and she found herself still breathing. _Okay, good, he's just angry. Okay, maybe not good._ Her fingers fidgeted for a while before she finally made a move. She reached into her leather bag and brought out a certain memento. Glancing at it, she found the same relief it always gave her. Her hand was shaking as she slid the photograph across the table. Eyebrows crinkled, he regarded her briefly before reaching for the photo and taking a look at it. A measured exhale made it past his lips when he saw the innocent joy in the baby's eyes. For the first time, Zara saw his features soften. She said nothing. She let him have his moment to see his son.

"Sophia tried her best to protect him," Zara began. He never looked away from the photograph but she continued anyway, knowing full well that he was listening to her. The words were dense on her lips. Still, she tried her best to explain everything that had happened since Luciel was born. By the end, she was so close to tears that she was finding it difficult to speak. She buried her face in her hands, uncomfortable with the thought of letting someone else see her weep. Lucifer was surprisingly patient. "If I had only listened to her…" she trailed off. Now that all her negativity was coming out, she carried on with a sobbing rant about everything that had happened to her since. She was completely undone by the end of it all, wanting nothing but to curl up in a ball and cry herself to sleep. The pain ate her heart with every word she'd spoken, not sparing a moment.

"Alright," Lucifer finally said. In a fraction of a second, his face had switched back to the iciness it always had. "You should get some rest."

He shifted to get up. "What?" Zara asked with a tear-streaked face.

"I said, get some rest. That's an order," Lucifer declared. "You do remember where your room is, don't you? End of the hallway."

"I don't get it," she asked with a choked voice. "Aren't you going to…" He looked at her expectantly, daring her to say another word. "You know…"

"What, torture you?" Lucifer finished her sentence. "From what you've just told me, Zara, you've lost a lover, gotten trapped in a prison, and lost a child. I'd say you've tortured yourself. I can't top that. Unless of course, you want me to try."

"I just-"

"We'll talk again later," he dug his hands into his pockets. "If you need anything, figure it out. And don't try to leave Hell. Now get out of my room." Zara sighed. This was not the way she expected things to go down but she certainly wasn't complaining. Limbs heavy, she dragged herself to that familiar room for a long-anticipated shower. _Home sweet home,_ she thought wryly. Once she'd left, Lucifer dug out the photograph again. He couldn't help it. Now that he had a face to the name – even if it was just a human face captured on the paper – he couldn't help but think of all the possibilities. And the image of Sophia, looking as happy as she did in the photo, it was what he'd craved for so long. "I miss you," he let himself say out loud, admitting it against his own will. As he stared at their faces, a tight knot formed in his chest. He thought nothing of it first, attributing it to his broken heart. As he found out, his chest convulsed suddenly, forcing him to cough. His hand instinctively covered his mouth as his coughs grew more violent. Finally, when they stopped, he looked at his palm. There was a spot of blood on it.

The door to the prison cell slammed open as Lucifer stormed in. The sudden noise roused the witch, who'd finally found sleep despite the massive discomfort of being chained with her wrists bound above her head. Her blurry vision soon focussed on the King, unmistakably making out the look of fury on his face. "You figure it out yet?" Esther drawled lifelessly.

"What is happening to me?" Lucifer growled. "The spell – what did it do?"

"It undid Crowley's control over your vessel," she rasped. She gulped, though it gave no relief to her dry mouth. "But it also undid some other things that keep your vessel… _intact._ "

"How do I stop it?" When she didn't say anything, he lifted her up by her throat, stifling her whimpers. "I wasn't kidding about letting Hades have you."

Esther's eyes widened in understanding. "It's a failsafe…" she struggled to say. He loosened his grip but maintained the position. "It works like a bomb. You have to disarm it with the right spell within the right time or your vessel will… disintegrate."

"I'm waiting," Lucifer urged with eyes that meant business.

"I don't have the spell," she confessed.

"Then why are you alive?" He raised a hand to smite her.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "I… I can help you find it. I know where Crowley hid it." Somewhat content, Lucifer let her go, leaving her to drop onto the ground in a sorry mess. Esther wished she could massage her throat where he'd almost strangled her but of course, the shackles had a different idea.

"Be a good little bitch," Lucifer said as he turned to leave.

"There's one more thing… you should know," she said as she gulped for air, halting him in his step. "The more you use your power… the faster the vessel degrades."

* * *

A/N:

Whew, so there's that bittersweet reunion I've been aching to write about for months. Sorry about the long wait. I've been working on something, which I feel obliged to tell you guys about. I've spent a considerable amount of time rewriting the first 15 chapters of this story, because I'm a self-loathing perfectionist (it's both a gift and a curse). The changes don't affect the plot or its consistency, but I did add a few new scenes and dialogues, with a focus on character development. And I know you guys have been asking me for more Lucifer/Sophia moments since forever. I am glad to announce that, after a year of not doing anything about it, I've done something about it. Read it again or don't read it again, it doesn't really matter. It's there for your reading pleasure. Hope you understand :)


	67. Here I Go Again

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 67: Here I Go Again**

 **SIX MONTHS LATER**

 _ **St. Louis, Missouri – 12 September 2012, 2.02am**_

Insects chirped in the middle of the night. The suburb was quiet, not a soul in sight. Well, maybe a single soul. She weaved her way through the thick trees into the backyard of a particular house. It was a normal-looking house – the lawn was mowed, there was a swing-set in the back and the paint was new. A little monkey watched her from a tree branch up high, its mahogany eyes wide with awe as she picked the lock in ten seconds and entered, uninvited. Inside, the woman blinked, flashing bright green irises. She scanned the house for any signs of life. There he was – her target – in the basement, alone. She blinked again, returning her eyes to their normal brown. The first thing she spotted was a framed photo on the kitchen counter – a man, a woman and a little boy. Her feet barely made any noise. Her leather jacket clung snugly to her tight frame and the hoodie was pulled up to obscure her face. She'd also pulled up a mask to cover the lower half of her face. Now only her piercing, cold eyes were visible.

Walking through the kitchen, she smelled the familiar aroma of Indian spices. It almost felt like her own home. But she shook her head, dismissing all thoughts of her past. She was a new person now. The old girl was dead and there was only the now and the future. Soft noises of a man's footsteps became audible when she twisted the knob of the door to the basement with a gloved hand. Keeping her back to the wall, she entered the darkness, taking cover behind a shelf as the unsuspecting man went about his work decorating the shrine to the Hindu god Ravana. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the light with heavier footsteps, armed with a brass knuckle with Enochian sigils and a regal blade with green engravings. The man jerked to face her. "Who are you?" he flustered. Seeing that she was fully human, he had nothing but confusion. "Are you- are you here to rob me?"

"Your boss hasn't been paying his dues," she simply said.

"What? What are you talking about?" he puzzled with an unmistakably Indian accent. "Who are you?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she hissed, her lined eyes glaring at him with a steel intensity. "The King lets your kind live and you pay your taxes."

The man's eyes hardened. "So he sends you to scare me? A human?" he wondered. A fire ignited in him. This was easy bait.

"Not to scare you. To warn you," she answered in fluent Hindi. "There will be consequences for defiance. Pass the message to your boss."

"And if I don't?" he replied in the same tongue. "Satan thinks he can rule over _us?_ Who is he, to appear after thousands of years and demand that _we_ give him what we have reaped?"

"I don't care about your grievances," she snapped. "Either you pass the message with your words or a bloody corpse. Your choice."

"I'll choose the bloody corpse," he hissed. "Your bloody corpse."

He blinked his eyes and his pupils became snake-like. He began towards her at an inhuman speed. She reacted quickly, dodging his fist just narrowly. Her grip on the blade tightened and she swung it at him. He caught her forearm before the blade could cut him. Without wasting a second, she used his hold on her as leverage as she kicked him in the abdomen, knocking him back if only slightly. Then, her brass knuckle came crashing down the side of his face. Just as she was about to take the opportunity to stab him, the man vanished right before her eyes. Stunned, she looked around. Her body spun just in time to see him charging at her from a different angle, hurling her onto the floor. He pinned her down by her neck in an attempt to strangle her. His arms were so strong, feeling like they could crush her trachea any second now. Black spots flooded her vision. Her arms flailed, weakly pushing at his hands. In a last ditch attempt to survive, her right hand reached outwards, searching for a familiar magical thread. She could hear his maniacal laughs as he watched the light going out of her eyes. She saw the absolute glee in his monstrous eyes in the split second before she buried the blade that she summoned to her grip into his abdomen. The snake pupils thinned instantaneously in an expression of shock.

Grunting, she pushed him off of her and retrieved the bloody blade, wiping the crimson off on his clothing. She panted heavily for breath, pulling down her mask and hoodie to relish the feel of fresh air. Blood pooled on the floor as she scanned the room. Her gaze rested on the mirror. An unrecognisable reflection stared back at Zara.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"Persephone… Persephone…" Hades grumbled under his breath as he sauntered through the hallways of Hell. Demons walked past him, some not caring and some giving him confused looks. By now, most of them had gotten used to it. The large god kept repeating her name as he hulked up the stairs to Lucifer's quarters. He froze in his step. His single right eye – a stark black iris with white streaks – tracked the movement of a feminine figure as she strutted back to her room with a bottle of whiskey. Her very frame was riveting, making him drool at the sight of her long curly hair cascading down her back in a dark waterfall. The sight of her thighs below the hem of her short gown made him weak, sparking a curiosity in him about what other wonders lay underneath her dress. Without himself knowing, his legs started in her direction.

Zara frowned at the sight of a larger shadow appearing in front of her. She spun around and let out a short scream, her back attached to the nearest wall as she tried to inch away from him. But seeing as he just stood there, without saying anything, she too stopped, though her arm was still poised to attack him with the bottle of whiskey if he did anything. "Uh- who… who a-are you?" she stuttered, swaying slightly from the existing alcohol in her system.

"Persephone…" Hades drawled. Her frown intensified. "Persephone…"

"Wrong number, pal," she nervously answered. "There's no one here by that name."

"Persephone…" Hades' greyish-red lips curved into a smile. He took a step towards her, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek.

"Hey, personal space!" Zara argued in vain as she backed away. Hades let out a grunt of disapproval, his face now contorting with a determination to get what he wanted.

"Persephone," he simply stated as he made to grab her. Zara averted her head and moved to protect herself. Just as his beefy arm was about to seize her shoulder, another hand stopped his.

"Lay off," Lucifer snarled with eyes that meant business. Oddly comforted by the sound of his voice, Zara kept herself behind Lucifer, using him as a barrier between herself and Hades. "She's off-limits, lover boy." Hades grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he reluctantly turned around and walked away. "You okay?" Lucifer asked a now-curious Zara.

She nodded. "What's his deal?" she asked, staring at Hades' muscular back.

"Hades, "god" of the Underworld," Lucifer introduced, complete with air-quotes.

"I thought you hated the pagans," Zara wondered.

"I do. I mean, all that self-importance… you just wanna crush their little heads," Lucifer answered with the appropriate head-crushing gesture. "But Hades knew his place. Hated his pantheon so much that he was willing to work for me."

"And Persephone?" Zara probed. She opened the door to her room and Lucifer followed, watching her as she poured herself a generous glass of whiskey and plopped onto her bed.

"Shark bait," Lucifer stated, taking a seat opposite her on a chair. When she gave him a puzzled look, he continued, "Zeus was, as you kids say, 'talking shit'. So Hades happened to find his daughter on a warm sunny day in spring. Love at first sight."

"Talk shit, get hit," Zara summarised, taking a swig of her drink. She gagged and coughed as she swallowed her first sip. The dark liquor burned in the back of her throat. Despite the look of regret on her face, she held onto her glass, determined to finish it. Slowly, the feeling of intoxication strengthened and she felt light again.

"Exactly," Lucifer agreed. "Then, as you know, he kidnapped her, made her his bride and raped her to death. But he still lives under the impression that she's alive somehow."

"Whoa- what?" Zara exclaimed. "How do you rape someone to death?"

Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. "You get creative, duh," he responded. "Hades has a monster libido."

"Oh," Zara's lips curved up on one end. A number of ideas passed through her head.

"What?" Lucifer probed, unsure if he should be concerned by the look on her face. It wasn't the first time she had that look – her eyes zoning out, a thin smile, a resigned aura around her. Normally, he'd approve, seeing as it was always preceded by some unusual, nihilistic activity that required her continued descent into depravity, like attempting to finish a whole can of beer in one gulp without puking (and subsequently failing). But in this context, what was he supposed to make of it?

"So what you're saying is… he's single," she occupied her mouth with another large sip of whiskey, forcing herself to gulp its spicy taste.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes in judgment. "You're not serious," his face contorted with disgust. "Ew."

"I like my men… large…" she sighed, and then broke out into an uncontrolled chuckle. "And he looks like he just needs a hug."

"You couldn't handle his monster cock," Lucifer jibed. "It would kill you."

"I hope so," she flushed, fanning herself.

"Okay, look. Stay away from him," he ordered. "I need him to be focused."

"And I need to get laid," Zara lamented, reclining back onto the bed. She closed her eyes and groaned out loud like a child.

"I don't care," Lucifer pursed his lips.

"Well, maybe you should. How am I supposed to live here, trapped like a prisoner? Oh and you're _wearing_ my boyfriend!" Zara snapped at him, sitting back upright.

"Don't take that tone with me," he snarled. Within a second, he had a hand around her throat, pulling her face close to his. "The only reason you're here is so that I can get a hold of Sophie when she gets back. You? I don't care what you do until then as long as you're here. Don't get on my nerves and I won't gut you. Are we clear?" Her brown irises froze in place as she managed a short nod. He let go and she sobered up instantly, massaging her neck. He got up, ready to go, but stopped at the door. "I'll let you go back to Earth. _With_ an escort. And you will be back in five hours. Whatever you do in that time, is your business."

Back in his room, Hades and Abaddon awaited his arrival. They both sat at a round table. "Report," he commanded, standing over said table.

"Crowley's still in the wind," Abaddon stood and reported. "We went to the site that the witch pointed us to, but there was nothing there. I'm guessing Crowley relocated his most important resources as soon as he tucked tail and ran."

"Then _find_ where he moved our item," Lucifer ordered. "Pay our little guest another visit. I don't care if she doesn't have any teeth left."

Then it was Hades' turn. He remained seated, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair. "The squatters won't talk. They're all loyal to the old gods," he spoke with a gravelly voice. "Some even question your competence."

"Then we'll answer them," Lucifer said resolutely. "Doesn't uh- what's-his-face own a brothel in Constantinople?"

"It's Dionysus, and it's Istanbul now," Hades drawled. "We might have to check if he hasn't shifted base."

"Do it. We have to show them that there's no hiding from us," Lucifer declared. "Talk shit, get hit." When the two of them stared at him blankly, he elaborated, "It's a saying. It's catchy."

Abaddon nodded, smirking. "Talk shit, get hit," she repeated the words like a motto.

"But Dionysus… he's kind of a big deal. We hit him, we might have a war on our hands," Hades warned.

"Well I'm a _bigger_ deal. We need them to know that," Lucifer answered. "I won't stop until I've cleansed the earth of all these so-called 'gods'. If it's war they want, then I say: Good. We'll get more birds with one stone."

 _ **Later,**_

Zara stepped out into the cold, pulling her jacket closer to her body. She awkwardly strode in a pair of glittery heels and a skimpy dress, still feeling the effects of that afternoon's whiskey. Her two demon bodyguards followed closely behind, wearing impeccable suits and grave expressions. She took a deep whiff of the fresh, cold air. _Ah, freedom._ It would have felt so good to just be able to strut around without a care in the world, if it wasn't for the great heaviness in her soul. But that was why she was here. When she reached the entrance of the nightclub, she paused and turned to the demons. "Stay far away from me, kay? I don't need you two messing up my game," she blatantly stated before prancing into the club. The demons exchanged blank looks before following her.

Her body was bouncing to the beat as soon as she set foot into the establishment. She put on a plastic smile, just as inauthentic as the make-up she'd piled onto her face, as she spent some time on the dance floor. It had been so long since she'd just danced for the sake of it. And with the way her head was spinning from the booze, it felt almost transcendental. Unable to control herself, she let out a smirk, bumbling backwards only to bump into a random stranger. She turned around to say sorry and came face-to-face with a rather attractive man. "S-sorry," she stammered, now lost in his glistening brown eyes.

"Uh, it's alright," he huffed a smile. He had a square jaw and a light stubble, which moved into dimples as he regarded her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"You can do anything you want, sugar," she flirted. He let out a deep chuckle and she reciprocated. Soon, they both found themselves standing at the counter with shots in front of them.

"I'm Nick, by the way," he introduced himself. Zara's smile faded quickly and she averted her eyes. Picking up on her discomfort, he probed, "Is something wrong?" _Shit, don't screw this up, Zara._ She gave him a half-hearted smile and shook her head, starting on her drink. "Oh no, don't tell me this is one of those 'you-remind-me-of-my-ex' moments."

"No, no it's not that," she lied with an unconvincing grin. "I'm… sorry. It's just… I haven't done this in a while," she shook her head again as if to shake herself out of it. "I'm Zara."

"Okay, nice to meet you," he nodded in reassurance. "What do you do?"

"Oh, I uh… I'm in between jobs," she answered, her gaze darting around the club. She spotted her bodyguards assuming positions at opposite ends of the club, standing with the arms folded and facing her directly. _Be more obvious, won't you?_ she thought. She returned her attention to the man standing next to her. "Yeah, I used to be a pub singer. Moved to LA to audition for an acting role."

"What role are you auditioning for?" he asked as he downed a glass.

"Oh, well, just… any role," she stammered. "Been trying my luck with a few. What about you?"

"I work in a bank. It's quite boring compared to your _artistic_ profession," he joked. She laughed, perhaps a bit longer than was required of the moment. "So what kind of music you into?"

"I grew up listening to a lot of hard rock and heavy metal," she replied, gulping her drink. "All the greats – Ozzy, Dio, Maiden, Judas Priest, Manowar. Man, _that's_ music."

"You like that stuff?" he questioned, albeit teasingly.

"Yeah. You don't?" she asked with the same light-hearted tone.

"I'm a good Christian man, Zara," he showed her the crucifix he wore around his neck. "Heavy metal needs Jesus."

Zara burst out in laughter, lightly patting his arm. That goofy grin on his face was evidence enough that he didn't exactly mean it. "Well, _good Christian man,_ wanna hear about my sins?" she flirted. She winked at him before taking a few steps away. When he didn't follow, she turned back. "You coming?"

Nick, still captivated, simply adjusted his jacket before following her. She led him by the hand out the backdoor into the alley, pouncing on him as soon as they were out. They kissed hungrily, with her hands eagerly searching his abdomen. "Car's that way," he pointed as he made to bring her in its direction.

"No, I want you now," she insisted, pulling him back to her. "Take me right here."

Unable to resist her yearning voice, he relented, pushing her up against the wall as he deepened the kisses. One hand roughly slid between her legs, fondling her thighs. Zara let out a breathy moan. Her palms cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer to her as her leg circled his waist. His hand found its way under her panties and felt her. Zara gasped and pulled her face away from his. Like a switch had just flipped inside her, her earlier enthusiasm faded. "Hey, is everything okay?" Nick asked, his breaths heavy. She nodded for him to continue, pulling on the collars of his jacket. Soon, she felt his cold fingers inside her, stroking and rubbing as he dug his lips into her neck. Her breaths raced but now all she could think about when she closed her eyes was the face of _her_ Nick. The man she loved. The _only_ man she had ever loved so truly. She felt another shove of his fingers inside her and instinctively pushed the man away, retreating her leg. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"S-sorry," she sighed as she stumbled to stand on her own two feet. "It's- it's not you. I mean, you're great. I just-" Her eyes stung with tears and before she knew it, she was sobbing. "I'm so sorry," her voice choked. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Uh… okay. Okay," he patted her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she only wept more, clumsily wiping her tears away with a hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head, leaning back against the brick wall of the alley. Persistent, Nick reached out a hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. As she looked at him through a blurry vision, she couldn't help but be touched by his concern. She didn't understand why he was still standing there. Maybe he _really_ wanted to get in her pants, not that she minded. That's why she was out here in the first place. Now only if she could stop crying. She was about to say something vague about her cat dying or something but before she knew it, someone pulled the back of his head and a knife slit his throat, spraying blood onto her face. Zara flinched, her mouth widened in a gape. "Oh my fucking _God_!" she exclaimed. As Nick fell onto the floor, neck convulsing as blood bubbled from the gash, Zara found the figure of her two bodyguards standing before her. "What did you do that for?!"

"We heard you crying," the one holding the bloody knife said. "Are you hurt?"

"No, you _idiot_ ," she cried. "I'm. _Sad_!"

She groaned aloud as she covered her face with her two hands. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the top of her lungs. An awkward silence passed as they watched her bawl with her back towards them, forehead pressed against the wall. "Uh… we could go in and get another one," the other demon said, uncertain just like his associate about how to deal with the situation.

Zara turned around, pressed her palms together in a prayer position in front of her head. "Please, don't. I don't want your help!" she said, exasperated. She sniffled, finally feeling relieved of her tears. The demon handed her a handkerchief and she wiped the blood and tears from her face and neck. "Actually, you know what, I need you to find something for me."

Zara stormed into the shady apartment. The lighting was dim. The air was thick with smoke from cigarettes and weed. Hookers worked on big, muscular men, some of whom watched her strutting like she owned the place. She marched up to a guy in a hoodie with a cap underneath, her two demons trailing behind. "I want cocaine," she demanded, swaying on the spot.

"Booze and cocaine don't go well together," he advised with his hood accent. "It can kill you."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, asshole," Zara snapped.

"And I don't want any dead bodies turning up on my turf," he said defiantly. "What about some weed? I got some really good stuff. It'll blow your socks off."

"Fine," she grumbled. "But I still want some cocaine to go." When he didn't move, she rolled her eyes. "I'll do it FARaway from here, alright?"

"You got any money, chica?" the dealer asked. Zara snapped her fingers at a demon, who sighed and took out his wallet.

"Kitty's got a rich daddy, huh?" some guy next to her said, eyeing her up and down. "I can be your daddy too."

"Up yours, douchebag," Zara quipped. Grabbing the brown paper bag of her stuff, she took off. Finding a nice lonely spot in a skating rink, which still happened to be occupied by skaters even in this time of the night, she sat on the ground and fired up a blunt. "Make sure no one bothers me," she ordered her bodyguards as she huffed out some smoke. Maybe this whole 'Satan's prisoner' thing wasn't so bad after all, she thought to herself. _Hey, Luc. You still there? The world is a shit place without you in it._ She took another warm breath of weed, letting the drug take her away. _And your dad has a giant stick up his ass, in case you were wondering. But he saved my life, so I don't really care. Wish you were here. I love you._

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

 _ **The Bunker, Lebanon, Kansas – 15 September 2012, 8.13am**_

"Kid, English," Dean mumbled, rubbing his temple with a finger. He started out the morning with a bad hangover and now the prophet was going on about something he didn't quite pay attention to. He pressed the cold bottle of beer against his head, hoping it would help.

"Basically, the angel tablet is like some kind of power source," Kevin explained as he chewed on a sausage. "It looks like there's some kind of instruction on how to use it. Can I just skim over that part? Seems kinda trivial."

"Huh?" Dean struggled to look at him through the radiating pain from the side of his head.

"My eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the tablet for so long," Kevin said. And indeed, he hadn't blinked once from the beginning of this conversation. "I thought I could just skip to the important bits. Like something about taking on the Devil, because that's like a priority now, right?"

"Yes, you can," Castiel sighed as he entered the kitchen, saving Dean's brain from further ache. "I believe it would be wise to take a break once in a while as well. Perhaps a nap, or a walk, which I hear is therapeutic for humans."

"No, I'm almost finished. I have to continue," Kevin insisted.

"You're only a quarter of the way through," Castiel rebutted.

"Yeah, don't- don't burn out, man. Take a break, watch some porn, get some sleep. Then get back to your grind," Dean suggested, wincing as another wave of pain hit him. Castiel reached out a finger but Dean stopped him. "I got this. Man's gotta pay for his own mistakes." Rolling his eyes, Castiel touched his forehead and cured him of the headache anyway.

Before Dean could argue, Sam stormed into the kitchen with a laptop. "Got a case," he announced.

"You're welcome," Castiel uttered to Dean as he folded his arms with a defiant expression.

Sam's gaze flickered briefly between the two of them before he started. "Springfield, Missouri. Three women get ripped to shreds in their own homes," Sam introduced. "Multiple organs missing. Their bodies were barely recognisable."

"So we got a rabid Hannibal Lecter on the loose?" Dean wondered.

"Yeah, and get this: Eyewitness at one scene said that the victim looked like she was talking to herself and inviting someone into her house moments before she got murdered," he said.

"So we got: Invisible monster, eats flesh and gets people in their own homes," Dean summarised. "Why does this stink so familiar?"

"Because we've worked on something similar before. Rakshasa," Sam inferred. "We hunted one long ago," he paused, gulping.

"Right, Pennywise," Dean remembered. Then he cracked a goofy smile. "Close to your heart, Sammy?"

"Shut up," Sam cut him off.

"What?" Kevin asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," Sam quickly said to shut his brother up. Dean chuckled a little, not bothering to pursue the punchline.

"Guess we're off to Missouri," Dean concluded, getting up to pack his things for the next hunt. He momentarily paused to face Kevin. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," the prophet nodded confidently. He smiled genuinely, grateful for the feeling of safety he had here.

"Take a nap. That's an order," Dean wagged a finger sternly.

"I'll be here to watch over the tablet," Castiel offered.

 _ **Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 3.40pm**_

"She was such a sweet girl," an elderly woman recounted to Sam. The woman's face grew sombre and her gaze grew distant. "She was always smiling, so happy."

"Do you know if anyone would want to hurt her?" Sam asked, using the concerned eyes that made people trust him more. "Maybe a boyfriend…?"

"Oh it's definitely possible. She was always in and out of relationships, never being able to settle on one," the woman told him. "If you ask me, she always expected things to be perfect. And don't we all, when we're young?"

Sam nodded. "And you said she looked like she was talking to herself?"

"Yes, it was strange. She looked like she was talking to someone but no one was there. And she looked _really_ excited," the woman's eyes widened. "I think it was a…" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "A _ghost_. Has to be, right?"

"Right," Sam nonchalantly said to end the conversation. "Thank you so much for your time, ma'am."

He caught up with Dean at the car. "Find anything?" Dean asked as they entered the car.

"Apparently, the vic was never single for very long, but always had relationship problems," Sam reported. "Neighbour thinks it's a ghost."

"No EMF," Dean answered, rejecting that theory. "But it's a bloodbath in there. I think I can still smell her rotting meat."

"Ew," Sam frowned.

"Yeah, well, next time I'll bring some fava beans and a nice chianti," Dean shot back.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Our girl was really into a band called Brides In White," Dean cringed visibly. "Her room was full of posters of emo goth boys."

"Emo and goth are not the same thing, dude," Sam corrected him.

"Well these guys will prove you wrong," Dean shuddered. "What's next?"

The next vic's house was all the way on the other side of town. The house was still being surveyed by the local police department when the boys showed up. They flashed their fake IDs before gaining entry to the scene. Unfortunately, this crime scene was just as grisly as the last one, with blood indiscriminately splattered everywhere. Whoever did this didn't just want her as food – they wanted to make as much of a mess as possible. _What kind of a sicko would do this?_ Sam thought. Just as Dean surveyed the vic's living room, Sam caught the sound of soft sobbing near the front door. A young lady with short, dark hair was looking past the crime scene tape into the house at the bloody living room, despondent. "I'm sorry, did you know the victim?" Sam gently asked as he joined her. She nodded, still in tears. He flashed his badge. "Agent Elliott," he introduced. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"She was my best friend," the girl said through a choked voice. "I should have seen this coming."

"Why do you say that?" Sam inquired. "Did you see anything?"

"It's what I told the cops," she answered, wiping her tears away. "Alice said she met someone new. She told me all these great things about this guy and I told her that it seemed too good to be true. Then she got mad at me and we had a fight and… oh my god… I should have been there for her."

"Hey, hey," Sam patted her shoulder. "This isn't your fault. Is there anything you can tell me about this guy she was seeing? A name?"

"She never told me his name. She said he wanted to keep things on the DL for a while. Isn't that shady? I tried to warn her," the girl's eyes roved over the ground as she struggled to recall important details. "But all she kept saying was how they were both very similar and listened to the same music. I think that's how she met him. At a local concert or something."

"A concert?" Sam probed.

"Let me guess," their conversation was interrupted by Dean, who'd found something of his own. "Brides In White?"

"Yeah," the girl confirmed. "Alice loved that band. She was such a huge fan. But they're a bit confused between emo and goth if you ask me."

"Told you," Dean glanced at his brother, who gave him a bored expression.

"Alright. Thanks," Sam told the girl. "Very sorry, again."

"So both our vics were into the same band and had terrible judgment when it came to men," Dean observed as they made towards the Impala. "Makes it easy for predators to get them at a local concert."

"Sounds like a working theory," Sam agreed. "We'll see if the third vic confirms it."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

The desk was dusted with cocaine powder from a sloppy arrangement of lines. Zara wasted no time. Muscle memory from her teenage days kicked in as she snorted the coke. With every line she finished, her head grew lighter and lighter, until she couldn't feel her body anymore and fell back. It felt like her soul had left her body and was now floating above, even though she knew she was still in possession of her body. The weed from before was slowing the high but she still felt it – the stinging clarity of every sensation coming on to her in a tidal wave. Soon, her heart began racing. Though she felt more comfortable lying down, her muscles just itched to fidget. She shook her fingers, feeling no exertion at all. It was like being on top of the world. It was like she could do anything at all. She got up and rapidly paced around the room, thinking herself a feather floating on the wind.

A short while later, the slightest dissipation of the high appeared. "No," she muttered out loud. "I need more. I want _more_!" She rushed to the table, finding the small sachet containing a little more of her elixir. She emptied the packet onto the table, hurriedly forming a line with the edge of a dollar bill. Zara stood in the face of incoming sobriety and defiantly rejected it, insufflating the last of her snow. Satisfied, she sat back on the bed to relish the intoxication. All that was apparent now was the dryness in her mouth. Instinctively, her tongue rubbed against her cheeks but that didn't help at all. She gulped a glass of water. That made it better but she could still taste the cocaine at the back of her throat. She pulled her legs up to her chest as she rode the train. Again, she felt the detested feeling of losing the high. She struggled to hold onto the sensation but it kept slipping away, leaving her to face the inevitability of normality.

A light throbbing emerged from the side of her head. All life drained from her bones. She lay down on the bed in a fetal position, craving sleep but too mentally stimulated to try. Her limbs just felt like dead weight. With no reprieve from the crash, Zara just stayed down, staring at nothing in particular and thinking about nothing. An hour passed. She finally got up. She didn't know what she wanted to do now. In a daze, her legs began walking in a single direction. The sound of murmuring reached her. All sounds stopped as their eyes found her.

"Yes, Zara, do come in," Lucifer invited, a confused gaze scanning her from top to bottom. Zara stumbled forward like a zombie until she found a seat at the table. "Did you have a good time? Actually, don't answer that. I don't care. Also, why do you have blood on you?"

"What?" She looked down at her chest. She was still wearing the skimpy dress and there were patches of dried blood from a pathetic attempt at a clean-up. "I don't know," she frowned, struggling to remember what happened. "Does it matter?"

"No, it does not," Lucifer half-grinned. "Hey, wanna hear about my plan for world domination?"

"Are you gonna take 'no' for an answer?" Zara groaned, clutching the side of her head that throbbed.

"Sir," Abaddon interjected. "Should we really be revealing our plans to… an outsider?"

"Zara's no outsider," Lucifer answered, glancing at the hot mess of a human. "Isn't that right? You're not gonna try and stop me, are you, Zara?"

"Fuck the world," Zara groaned. "Fuck everything and fuck everyone in it. The world could end tomorrow and I couldn't care less."

"See?" Lucifer smirked. "She's not a problem. She couldn't even count her fingers on all that crack."

"Thank you for your confidence," Zara said dryly. "Let's hear it."

"I'm going to take out all the competition," Lucifer began. "Starting with the pagan gods. I won't stop until I've wiped every last one of them from the face of the earth."

"Okay, Hitler," Zara remarked.

"He'd actually make a great demon, don't you think?" Lucifer wondered. "I mean, he had the right idea but he just wasn't thinking big enough. Why stop at one race when you could take 'em all out? Where is Hitler anyway? Can't seem to find him in Hell."

"Sir, I believe his soul is trapped on earth in some artefact somewhere," Abaddon replied. "The Men of Letters had a record on him."

"And how did you find that nugget of wisdom?" Hades spoke up, his rough voice a surprise to Zara, who'd only ever heard him speak one word. "I thought you said these Lettered Men were good at keeping secrets."

Abaddon gave him a malicious smile. "We hit one of their bases last month. Raided every corner and killed every last one of them. Little Miss Trouble over here was our main haul, but you will be pleased to know that they had a wide array of weapons and case files, which I thought might come in handy for us," she explained. "It's probably nothing compared to the original reserve I was after, but that, as I've mentioned before, is in the hands of two unyielding humans."

"The Winchesters," Lucifer filled Zara in. "In any case, I don't want to waste my time on those two little worms. We have a whole race of ancients to exterminate."

"I… I don't understand," Zara dared to say, catching their attention. "If you want to rule the world, why would you kill the people who already do? Isn't that a lot of trouble?"

"You dare question his decision?" Abaddon hissed. Lucifer held up a hand to gesture her to stop.

"You have a better idea, princess?" he folded his arms, beckoning her to go on.

"Aren't you all about bending people to your will?" she suddenly asked as if the notion was obvious. Now that she was thinking so much, her train of thought became clearer and she became absorbed in trying to make her point. "Why kill them… when you can make them your bitches?" She broke out into a chuckle, amused by her own suggestion. _Satan… making old gods… his slaves._ Or maybe it was the hours of chasing intoxication which was starting to get to her. "You own them… and you'll own everything they own. Can you see the hierarchy?" She attempted to draw some kind of tree diagram in the air but gave up when she had to yawn.

Lucifer nodded in amazement. "That's actually… not a bad idea," he admitted, envisioning what she said. "Didn't peg you for a strategist."

"Thanks, I took like, one political science class in college," she added wryly, eyes now fighting to stay awake. It seemed this conversation was unusually good for her come-down. Hey, she might even have a good night's sleep. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself to her feet. "Alright, later immortals," she gave them a peace sign before staggering off. The three of them watched her make a pathetic attempt at walking in a straight line, amused by the girl's gait. They were practically counting the seconds before she knocked something over, none of them making an effort to help. Despite the odds, she successfully made it out the door.

"Beautiful _and_ smart," Hades fawned. "Like my Persephone…"

"You keep that up, and I'll rip your other eye out," Lucifer warned coolly. Hades pouted a little but shrugged it off. Every woman was Persephone to him until told otherwise.

"If I may ask, my King," Abaddon began. "What purpose does she serve exactly?"

"Zara will remain here, under my watchful gaze, until my Queen returns from her travels," he explained. "Besides, her mental breakdown is the only entertainment we have down here." Abaddon gave him an accepting nod, though she seemed a bit unsure. "Is there something on your mind, Abaddon?"

"It's just that… from the case files we retrieved from the Men of Letters, she might have some _extraordinary_ capabilities," she elaborated. "Would be a shame not to put them to use."

"Hm," Lucifer considered. "I'll think about it."

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

 _ **Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 5.45pm**_

Later, the boys found themselves having dinner at a local diner, with Dean devouring a bacon sandwich and Sam ignoring the impossibly large bite that his brother had to take by looking up this mysterious band. "I got nothing. It's pretty normal- or as normal as the emo scene can get," Sam shook his head in dejection. Then, his eyes spotted something and he perked up. "Wait…"

His fingers furiously tapped on the keyboard. Dean slowly chewed his sandwich, swallowing a large bite as he observed his brother working so seriously. "Got something?" he asked with a mayo moustache.

"Take a look at this," Sam flipped the laptop so that Dean could see the screen. "So these are all the places where there've been similar cases," he pointed to a map. "Other than Springfield, there's Little Rock, Arkansas, and Branson. And here is a list of places where Brides In White played gigs," he pulled up a poster.

"So our guy's riding the tour-bus," Dean observed. "Band stops in town, freak preys on vulnerable girls with relationship problems and leaves town on a full stomach. Typical douche-bag rockstar."

"That would make a lot of sense but I've been doing some digging into the third victim. Get this: She was engaged. Her fiance's a suspect," Sam informed him. "She doesn't fit the pattern."

"Maybe she was led astray by an opportunity she couldn't miss out on," Dean speculated. "Like banging her favourite rockstar. Happens to the best of us." When Sam gave him a weird look, he didn't hesitate to explain, "Like if Joan Jett came up to me, I'd expect my wife to let me, you know, have it. It's an unspoken rule, Sammy. Or think of Stevie Nicks, if that's easier for you."

"I like Joan Jett too," Sam frowned.

"But can you really handle a hard-lovin' woman like her?" Dean teased, to which Sam raised a bored eyebrow.

"Anyway," Sam shifted the topic back to the matter at hand. "Vic doesn't seem interested in Brides In White. Or any kind of hard rock or metal. There's no mention of it in her social media or anything."

"I got two words for you: closet metalhead," Dean posited as he swallowed another mouthful.

"Whatever," Sam dismissed. "I guess we'll only know when we go talk to the vic's family."

The evening was just beginning to set in. The sun was still up, though it fought with the fluffy clouds to shine its golden rays on the town square. People bustled about, just getting off work and ready to enjoy a relaxed dinner in the many eateries in the surrounding streets. Dim, colourful lights hung from wires connecting lampposts, giving the whole place a relaxed aura. As Sam and Dean strolled through the town square, the gentle rumbling of a guitar reached them in the background. Dean recognised the tune to be an old iconic Iced Earth song and just had to look for the musician. A smooth feminine voice sounded through the crowd.

" _I had a friend many years ago_

 _One tragic night he died_

 _The saddest time of my life_

 _For weeks and weeks I cried_

 _Through the anger and through the tears_

 _I've felt his spirit through the years_

 _I'd swear, he's watching me_

 _Guiding me through hard times"_

The mellow song suited the mood of the large open space, where people crossed paths and talked and drank. In all that movement, no one noticed the dark-haired archangel watching from afar with his pet lizard poised on his shoulder. Dean lightly stepped his way through the crowd, approaching the small gathering of people around the musician. He tried to maintain his distance yet get a glimpse of her, dragging his brother along for an awkward detour. When he finally got a good angle, his heart stopped. He knew that face. The acoustic riff intensified for the chorus, capturing the energy of the actual studio version.

" _I feel it once again_

 _It's overwhelming me_

 _His spirit's like the wind_

 _The angel guarding me_

 _Oh, I know, oh, I know_

 _He's watching over me_

 _Oh, I know, oh, I know_

 _He's watching over me"_

Dean had halted in his step, forcing his brother to follow his gaze. Seeing what had his brother so shocked, Sam could not help but feel just as dumbstruck. _How could this be?_ There she was, pouring her heart out in this song of tragedy, voice inflecting with just enough emotion that it sounded sincere and genuine. And truly, it was. It was a ballad of loss, coming straight from the heart. The silent archangel knew it to be true. It only made his heart ache more to see her here. If only he could talk to her somehow. He wanted nothing more than that. _I'll always watch over you,_ he thought as he lovingly watched her.

" _Why did he have to die?_

 _It still hurts me to this day_

 _Am I selfish for feeling this way?_

 _I know he's an angel now_

 _Together we'll be someday"_

"Please tell me you're seeing this," Dean patted his brother's arm with the back of his hand, all while fixing his gaze on the girl.

"Yeah I… I guess I am. What's she doing here?" Sam wondered. He took note of her short, curly hair – she'd had a haircut. Her face was still recognisable as ever. He'd never forget that face, which had been etched into his mind by the totality of torture. Both brothers just stood, mouths agape, as she finished her song. People dropped money into the open guitar case in front of her, mouthing praises while she gave them warm smiles and thanked them. When the crowd dissipated, she counted the money she'd collected, packed up and took off. Without it being said, the Winchesters fell in step following her, keeping their distance. They stopped when she stopped, scrutinising her every move. They noted everything from the length of her hair, to the floral dress she was wearing and even the khaki trenchcoat she wore. They were just waiting for something to happen, like there was some malicious agenda underneath that innocent-looking ensemble.

Then she did something weird. She bought a sandwich using the money she'd just made. "She's not possessed," Sam sighed in relief.

"Let's not jump to conclusions here," Dean remained wary. They continued stalking her as she meandered her way into a hotel without a care in the world. When they were confident they'd arrived at her door, the both of them took a moment to mentally prepare themselves. The door was a dark mahogany, a fitting complement to the ruby red theme of the hallway. Web-like cracks where the paint peeled off indicated that the place was shabby but well-kept enough to bring in customers. Taking a deep breath, Dean smote the door thrice. The door squeaked open.

She was just as floundered as either of them, eyes wide in recognition. "Sam. Dean," she huffed. Dean's hand was reaching for his pistol, just in case. "It's so good to see you!"

That relieved smile was unexpected. "Zara?" Sam finally dared to speak her name. Her brown eyes glistened and her cheekbones became evident as her light pink lips gave them a warm smile. She stepped back, allowing them both to enter. Sam's eyes were fixed on her but Dean's surveyed the room, finding nothing but human possessions – clothes, food, moisturiser and more. "What… How…"

"I know this must be weird…" she began.

"Weird? Where the hell have you been?" Dean huffed. Zara's jovial demeanour faded, reciprocating the tension he brought.

"I've been around…" she answered. It was an oversimplification, but it was a start.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Dean did not let up. "We've been worrying non-stop about the possibility of an archangel team-up and this is all you have for us?!"

"Dean!" Sam shut him up before Zara could say anything. Dean's tone only made her more anxious, which to be honest, she expected of him. He wouldn't be Dean if he wasn't suspicious of her. Still, it was disconcerting having two giants in her room and having one of them give her an unrelenting attitude. "Zara, the last time we saw you, you were in kind of a tight spot. You were going to… say 'yes' to Sophia again," Sam concerned with a gentler tone. "What happened? Are you alright? Are you in danger?"

"Sophia's been MIA for about a year," Zara confessed, palms nervously rubbing against each other. "One day she just up and vanished and left me stranded, y'know? Don't know what happened."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dean demanded, face still riddled with cynicism. "We've been on the lookout for that bitch for so long-"

"It's a long story," she cut him off. All relief had completely faded from her expression. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, wondering where the best place to start would be. "You might want to sit down. I know I need to."

Sam was uneasy with the way Dean was acting. His hand was still poised to reach for his gun, even when they were both sat at a round table. Instead, Sam distracted himself with the sight of Zara reaching into the fridge to get some beers. When she settled down opposite them, Sam asked, "Where's Luc?"

Zara hesitantly met his gaze. She didn't realise that she hadn't spoken for a few seconds. Her jaw trembled when she answered, "He's… gone."

"What do you mean… 'he's gone'?" Sam probed.

"Not exactly sure what happened… 'cuz you know, it's all images in my head," Zara's voice was weak, though she tried her best to keep it together. "But all I know is… he's not here."

"Is he dead?" Dean bluntly asked.

"Dean-" Sam tried to stop him.

"No, it's okay, Sam. It's a valid question," Zara said as if she meant it, even when it hurt to think of it that way. "Truth is, I don't know. But it's still what you wanted, isn't it, Dean? One less monster to worry about?"

Dean was taken aback by the mild vitriol in her voice. "Well I'm… I'm sorry for your loss," he said, though he could not deny that he did feel relieved by this revelation. His eyes darted to her neck, where her fingers fidgeted with a crucifix. "You a believer now?"

"After everything I've seen?" Zara scoffed, suddenly conscious of her fingers. "Obviously."

"But what happened?" Sam interjected. "I mean, to you. What have you been up to all this time?"

"Yeah, and what's with the Janis Joplin routine?" Dean supplemented.

"Oh, that?" Zara glanced at her guitar case. "It's how I get by. I find a nice crowded spot, strum out some songs and make enough to eat and live. People are really generous in Missouri."

"Or you're just really good," Sam complimented. "That was a great rendition."

"Thank you," her face lit up. She held Sam's gaze longer than necessary, finding comfort in those hazel eyes. "When you sing from the soul, you can't go wrong. Anyway, I've been going from one place to another, doing odd jobs and oh – hiding from demons. Turns out they really have it in for me."

"Ah," Dean nodded. _That_ he could understand. But still, there was something left unanswered. "But why didn't you come to us? We could've helped you. Kept you safe."

"Are you kidding?" Zara huffed, looking between the both of them. "No offence, but the both of you are demon magnets. I've read the books. I'm good on my own, thanks."

"The books?" Dean was bewildered for a moment before he realised what she meant. "Oh come on. Really?"

"I ventured too deep into the weird side of the internet one day and found a fanfic of your lives," Zara recalled with wide eyes, looking like she'd seen some strange things. "You guys should really look into that and maybe… stop it. But guess what, I got my five seconds of fame too. Not the most favourable first impression, but it's better than nothing."

"Right," Sam paused her. A brief moment of silence fell as they sipped on their beers. "Alright, we should get going. Need to wrap up this case."

"You guys are here on a hunt?" Zara questioned. Then her facial muscles eased up in realisation. "I mean, obviously. Of course."

"Yeah, thanks for the beers," Dean said as they both got up and neared the door. "Keep in touch, Zara."

As the Winchesters walked off, they both had very different thoughts in their mind. Sam was silently smiling to himself, finding himself relieved that she was alright. It had weighed heavily on him since the last time he saw her – the last time he saw her _as her_. As Zara.

"You buying anything she says?" Dean snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Wha- Dean," Sam frowned. "What's not to believe? She's helped us before. And she's lost a child. You think she'd lie about that?"

"Not that, but doesn't this whole thing seem fishy to you?" Dean posited. "Are we supposed to believe that Sophia just vanished off the face of the earth?"

"I mean, seems like it," Sam rebutted. "No one's seen or heard from Sophia in… about a year. It checks out."

"I don't know, man. Seems too good to be true," Dean remarked.

From the hotel room window, Zara watched as the two brothers deliberated, their figures getting smaller as they got further away. The sun was starting to set, casting shades of purple in the sky. She continued to fidget with the crucifix as her eyes followed their path. Then she felt it scrape against her finger. Slowly, the crucifix turned upside-down, flipping upwards against her chest. "Come to check up on me?" Zara asked, not bothering to turn around.

"Just had to know if my favourite lieutenant was still alive," a man's voice sounded from behind her. She turned around, welcoming the vision of that familiar blond hair and icy blue eyes. His arms were folded as he leant back on the table. "What's the matter? You're just letting them leave like that?"

"Trust takes… time," Zara reported. "I have to play my cards carefully. Earning the Winchesters' trust will be challenging."

"I can imagine," Lucifer nodded. "What about the… other matter?"

Zara's lips turned up on one side. The archangel was encouraged by her confidence. "She thinks she's playing me. But I think it's a good opportunity. I could hit two birds with one stone," she claimed, self-assured. "I'm sure Ravana will get the message."

"If you say so," Lucifer assented. "Keep me posted."

* * *

A/N:

Hey guys, how are you? Hope you're all doing well. I know I haven't posted in forever but I'm working on it. We're entering a new arc in the storyline that will heavily follow Zara, the Winchesters and Lucifer. And if you notice, the format of this chapter is such that it will show events of both the past and the present - like an episode of Arrow. I thought this was best because it makes connections easier to draw and you wouldn't have to wait for so many chapters before seeing the implications of certain things that happen in the past. I'm having so much fun conceptualising this era of the series, especially because of certain characters who I can't wait for you to meet. As usual, your feedback is much appreciated :)


	68. Fear of The Dark

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

Well hello again. Sorry I couldn't post sooner, but work has been laying on me thick for the past few months and it's been so bad that I barely had the time to write. I used to be able to write a chapter in 2 weeks at most but for the past month I've been stuck on the same chapter. Yikes. Advice for all those who are in college: do NOT overload modules (take more than the recommended number of classes in a single semester). Life comes at you _really_ fast when you do that. Luckily, there are only 2 more weeks before finals and the end of the semester so I'll be able to write more then.

Quick recap since it's been ages since I posted the last chapter: fast forward 6 months since Lucifer broke Zara out of the British Men of Letters' temporary HQ, the Winchesters are hunting a Rakshasa in Missouri. 3 victims, seemingly following a pattern of being young women who have a thing for a certain band. The boys run into Zara, who is busking on the street to get by but she's secretly in cahoots with Lucifer. Also I'm doing a thing where I show you the present day story as well as flashbacks of the past, like they do in Arrow. Past-Zara has fallen off the wagon – she is constantly intoxicated – while Lucifer is trying to find the blueprints that reverse his vessel's degradation as well as mess with the pagans. Alright, you're all caught up! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 68: Fear of The Dark**

 _ **Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 8.02pm**_

Bright lights had lit up the concert venue for an audience of cleaners and organisers. The whole place was remarkably lifeless, like music had been its only soul-giving elixir. Now there was only the remnants of what had been a uniting force in the form of strewn litter and dismantled equipment. The clean-up crew buzzed about, engrossed in their own responsibilities, when Sam arrived on scene. _Gig's over. Huh._ So the band must have left already. But that didn't have to stop him. Though his formal attire stood out against the overalls and casual wear of the staff present, he carefully wove through the bustling crew towards the backstage as he kept his eye out for anything suspicious.

"May I help you?" A lady wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard stopped him.

"Oh, yes, hi," Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out a fake ID. "I'm a journalist from the Missouri Gazette. I was supposed to meet the band, Brides In White, for an interview here. Do you have any idea where I can find the boys?"

"Oh…" A brief confusion eclipsed her face. "I'm afraid the band's packed up and left. Sorry."

She gave him an apologetic look. Sam sighed softly in disappointment.

"These amateur managers, right?" she grumbled. "The band's only got them 'cuz they aren't rich enough to afford a proper one."

"Yeah," Sam huffed as if he totally understood. "Do you have any idea if they happen to still be in town?"

"I can't be sure. But you can check with their motel. I can give you the name if you'd like," she offered.

"Of course. Thank you so much," Sam used his innocent charmer voice. It always seemed to work on normal people. He had those empathic eyes that always seemed down-to-earth and made people trust him. She scribbled the address on a memo pad and tore it off to give it to him.

"Good luck getting past the groupies," she dryly muttered a warning.

Sam perked up at that statement. "Is that a big uh… thing with them?" he asked.

"I guess so. I mean, a lot of these bands generally attract a young crowd. But if you ask me…" she lowered her voice. "Their fans are kinda obsessed."

"Obsessed how?" he pried.

"I… I don't think I should really say anything," she hesitated. His status as a 'journalist' was something she was wary of, Sam realised. "It's probably nothing. Maybe this kind of thing happens all the time. I don't know."

"No, no, it's okay. You can talk to me," he reassured her. "I promise it'll be off-the-record."

Her uncertain eyes considered his offer for a moment before relenting. "Okay," she exhaled. "I've worked these kinds of gigs before and groupies storming the backstage is kinda normal. But with this band… it's just weird. Apparently, the main singer likes his girls a certain way."

"Having a preference can't be that bad, right?" Sam probed.

"It's not just that. Danny's manager talks to these girls first before letting them see him. Almost like an interview to see if they 'fit the mould' or something," she recalled, face contorting with disgust. "Very… cult of personality. Personally, I don't understand it. Who could be so insecure that they allow themselves to be treated that way?"

"People can surprise you," Sam shrugged.

"But you can't really criticise them if the girls _willingly_ sign up for this, you know?"

"Hm," he nodded intently.

"Sorry, just had to get it off my chest," the lady shook her head, laughing it off nervously.

"No, it's alright. Thanks um…" Sam's eyes roved to her nametag. "Karen."

She smiled politely in return and returned to work. So far, what she said seemed to be consistent with the case. The victims – the first two, at least – were not good at staying in relationships, which could be the cause of insecurity. They could also have the tendency to idolise and easily trust someone who would give them attention, which could explain why they let the Rakshasa into their houses. But something about the third victim didn't sit right with Sam. Further investigation was needed. Mind set on the questions he had, Sam set off in the direction of the motel.

The dim light from the hallways reflected off the damp gravel of the parking lot in front of the _Wild Horse Hideaway._ On the outside, it looked like any other cheap motel – there was the cheap paint peeling off the walls, dried up grime around the corners and little pests running around. There was even construction work going on across the road which must have turned away most customers. Still, it wasn't like the Winchesters hadn't stayed in such low-maintenance places when the times called for it. But those were truly desperate times. Even for a small-time band looking to get big, Brides In White could have afforded a better place. From the absence of large vehicles suited for loading instruments, Sam guessed that he had narrowly missed the band. He sighed a cloud of mist in dejection. Then he spotted something. Perhaps not all was lost.

Confidently, he strode up to a table in the pitifully-sized front office. It had space for barely more than the table and a two-seater couch. The receptionist was a sickly-thin man whose ill-health seemed to be the very essence of the building. He was engrossed in a televangelist programme running on the tiny monitor he had on the corner of his table. A pastor was explaining rather eloquently why he'd spent twelve million dollars of church funds on a private jet when Sam cleared his throat to get the receptionist's attention.

The man's eyes jerked to acknowledge his presence before nonchalantly returning to the TV screen. "A room's forty bucks per night," he recited like he had a hundred times before.

"Uh, sorry, I'm not staying," Sam pulled out his fake FBI badge this time. "Agent Elliott." That certainly got the man's attention. "I'm here to investigate some people who stayed here. A band by the name of Brides In White? They played a gig just recently."

"Oh," the receptionist awkwardly shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "You just missed them. They left about an hour ago. What'd they do?"

"I just needed to ask them some questions," Sam told the man.

"Shoulda known punks like that would be trouble. It's just what I get for inviting that unholiness into my motel, isn't it?"

Sam raised both his eyebrows, taken aback by the man's sourness. "Is there anything specific you can tell me about them?"

"Where do I begin?" he scoffed. "Um… The noise, the drugs… _Christ_. Every night they had women with them and let me tell ya, these walls ain't the thickest. We have families staying here too…" The receptionist made a sick face. "I wanted to tell them to get the hell out of here but you know, it's not like business is booming. And to top it all off, they make just an absolute mess of the place. Do you know how expensive cleaning supplies are?"

That would explain the general state of this motel, Sam thought wryly. "May I see the rooms they rented?" he asked.

"At your own peril," the man's eyes widened with an unseen terror. "We're still in the middle of cleaning." The man trudged slowly in front of Sam as he held the keys to the rooms and showed him to the ones the band stayed in. A total of three rooms had been rented. The first two were alright, though a little messy as the receptionist said. But the last one… "This is the worst of it."

Unfinished pizza boxes, women's lingerie, empty beer bottles – the place was a cesspit of insect fodder. And the order of amenities in the room was simply in chaos. Mattresses, lamps – none of it was spared. It looked like a hurricane had swept through the room. If it wasn't for the fact that Sam was on a hunt for a monster, he would have been disgusted by the ability of any human to leave a place in such a way. It was in that opportune moment that his phone rang. It was Dean.

" _Got anything?"_

"I'm at the motel the band stayed in. There might be clues here," he looked around the room, attention caught by the receptionist disgustedly picking up a leaking packet of ketchup from the floor.

" _A motel? Don't Rakshasas live in 'squalor'?"_ Dean's scepticism was refreshingly clear in Sam's ear, though he was fazed by the state of the room.

"Oh this is squalor, alright," Sam remarked. "It's no bed of dead insects but it's the next best thing."

" _Our guy's getting with the times, huh?"_

Sam rued to think what that would actually entail for a monster that loved its filth. "What about you?"

" _Just reached the third vic's house. This place is way out in nowhere. No immediate neighbours. Perfect spot to murder someone and make liver quiche."_

For the umpteenth time, the younger Winchester cringed in repugnance. "Dude, don't say things like that. As if this case wasn't weird enough…"

" _We're not exactly hunting Swiper the Fox, Dora."_ Sam rolled his eyes at that comment. " _Anyway, I'm going in. Come meet me here when you're done."_

With that, Dean cut the call. Sighing, Sam got down to the arduous task of scouring the unkempt motel room.

* * *

 _ **Five months ago**_

Abaddon stood in a small desolate town. 'Town' was a generous term for it – there were only three buildings here a short distance away from the highway and just sand for miles. It was the kind of place someone would own if they really wanted to get away from people. That is, if they could stand the heat. No living person roamed these parts. But that said nothing about the undead. She wasn't alone. At her side were five more demons.

"You're sure this is the place?" she curtly asked the demon closest to her.

"It's what the witch pointed out, ma'am," the demon meekly replied.

"You two, go scope the place and make sure it isn't a trap," she ordered.

The demons complied. One took the front door and the other checked the back of the wooden building. No one seemed to be hiding inside. They signalled that the coast was clear. Abaddon entered the abandoned house. There were cobwebs woven around the furniture and dust had settled in a thick coat over the whole place. "There," Abaddon pointed at a trapdoor. A demon promptly moved to undo the hatch.

Just as he pulled it open, it occurred to the Knight that it was perhaps suspicious that the hatch wasn't locked, considering the important material that was supposed to be hidden. But the thought was a moment too late. A 'click' sounded. Yellow puffs of fire were all Abaddon saw before it truly dawned on her. A loud explosion sounded, though it was pathetic compared to the great expanse that spanned the miles around them. A small 'boom' in the middle of nowhere – it turned no heads. Except those of the demons who flailed about frantically in an attempt to get the holy fire off of their defenceless bodies.

Abaddon screamed in rage but did not let it consume her. Before the cursed inferno could tear into her demonic spirit, she smoked out of her vessel.

 _ **Hell**_

Zara chuckled. There was a pause. She made another noise, this time a mix between a giggle and a squeal. It must have sounded strange to anyone walking past her door. It certainly was to Lucifer. He knocked on the door before entering. Zara looked up from her laptop screen to find his confused glare staring at her, frozen at the door. She straightened up immediately, sniffling and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Lucifer," she greeted.

He let himself in, still positively befuddled. "What's going on? You sounded like you were being strangled to death," he frowned, taking a seat next to her bed.

"I'm watching videos on taking care of kittens on Youtube," she smirked. Her legs were pulled up to her chest as she remained in a tight ball, secured by a thick blanket like a human burrito.

"So _this_ is what you wanted to do with your internet freedom?" he questioned. Interacting with a human this way was all too new for him. He remained ambivalent about his own position of it, feeling but a mixture of vexation and curiosity. He constantly reminded himself that the only reason he was doing this was for Sophia. To abide by her one request because it was the right thing to do. "I don't understand you humans."

"Come take a look," she angled the laptop towards him and hit the play button. The video showed a woman gently stroking a palm-sized kitten with a toothbrush. It cooed and stretched its paws so adorably that another tear fell, unfettered, down Zara's cheeks. She reached for a glass of wine from the bedside table and took a large gulp. "Isn't that the most adorable thing ever?"

Lucifer's lips simply formed a tight line, unamused. He looked between the hot mess that was Zara and the laptop screen. "You call that thing a cat? Please," he huffed. "I could pick my teeth with its spine."

Zara's face contorted with shock. "Why would you do that?" she asked rhetorically, knowing that there was no point in questioning his decisions.

"Okay, look. This pathetic, pussified excrement of artificial selection is no proper feline. You humans have ruined cats for me," he grumbled, pointing at the poor striped kitty on the screen that wanted nothing more than to be loved. "You want to know what a real cat is? You need to be able to fit a human toddler inside one." Zara merely watched in a disgruntled bafflement as Lucifer held his hands out to show the size of his ideal cat. "It has to be at least yeah big and have teeth so sharp that it just tears into flesh like a scalpel. Now _that's_ a real cat."

"Okay, thanks for _educating_ me," she said with a tone so dry that the salt oozed out of her words. She sniffled again. "I'll take my pussified kitty any day because I just want to cuddle it. Can your Hell-Kitty do that?"

"You can cuddle them," Lucifer defended. "They're fierce in every way. Even in their love," he admitted proudly. "It's how you know you've got them right."

Zara simply nodded in a passive acceptance. There was no point in arguing with him, she realised. He could explode her at will. It was a miracle that he'd just let her be. Maybe he did have sympathy for her after all. "Why're there no cats in Hell?" she asked rather innocently.

"Well, I've got Hellhounds," he answered. "They're pretty adorable. Do you want to cuddle one? They bite when they're excited."

"Uh… no thanks," she humbly rejected his offer, though it was partly out of fear. She remembered her last encounter with them. It was a close call with those invisible, ferocious mutts. "I can't even see them."

"Well, you'll be able to if you used…" he pulled open a drawer and brandished the familiar platinum box. "…this."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," she prefaced. "Why does it work for me? What's it for?"

Lucifer opened the box, caught in a flashbulb of memories as he studied its every detail again. "I don't know," he honestly answered, sighing. "The universe is full of mysteries. Like where did Sophia go? Why did she leave you here like an orphaned child, _assuming_ that I'd want to look after you? Some things we'll never know, I guess."

"Do you really think it's _such_ a burden to look after me? I don't even bother you," she groaned, taking another swig of her wine.

"Well, you're expensive, for one," he eyed her glass of wine.

"Like money matters to you," she shot back.

"No, but people get you your alcohol, escort you safely to and from earth, don't they? When they could be serving me instead," he argued. "And all you do is drink. I mean, have a fruit for once, Zara. Have an apple. It's good for you."

He materialised an apple in his hand and threw it onto her bed. "I've heard that apple seeds contain cyanide. Do you think eating apple seeds will kill me?" she asked, feeling the weight of the bright red fruit in her palm.

"That depends. Do you want them to? It's an important detail," he asked in return, reciprocating the curiosity. "And then there's that too. You're drinking so much that it's worrying. And do you know how disconcerting that is for me? _Me?_ Worrying about someone's life? Someone who's not Sophia or my son? I feel disgusted."

"Unless you have a cure for crippling depression, I don't know what to tell you," Zara blankly stated. She locked eyes with him defiantly as she downed what was left in her glass.

"I could make you an actual cripple if you try to play games with me," he calmly threatened. "I don't care what you do. All I ask is that you stay alive."

"Does it really matter? We all know where I'm going when that happens," she pointed out. "I'll probably wake up in the same spot, don't you think?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. _Uh oh, not good._ "Are you really that dense?" he brusquely asked. "Don't you remember our bond? I'm supposed to keep your soul intact. No demonization for you."

"Oh," she realised. "Can't even die in peace."

"I'm being serious. You better watch your drink," he ordered. "And thirdly…" Zara sighed. _Does this list ever end?_ "You do nothing all day. You're an utter waste of human life. Billions of years of evolution and you can't even make yourself useful."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," she dryly replied. Her chest suddenly felt so heavy. "How the hell am I supposed to make myself useful? You don't even let me see the outside world. You just want me to be cooped up in here."

"Yeah, because you're dead weight. You can't even protect yourself. The moment you step outside, Crowley's gonna nab you straight off the streets. You're like a baby. Scratch that, even my baby son could probably take on a common street-thug demon," he smirked. "You wanna be useful, Zara? Pick up a book. Use that brain of yours to find Sophia and tell her to come home."

"You think I haven't tried? I hate the idea of me being in control of my body just as much as you," she muttered. Her frown-riddled expression spoke of an untold pain but of course, none of that really mattered to Lucifer. He just wanted her for what she could do for him. "It's never worked."

That certainly softened his attitude. "Then try harder," he said more serenely. "Read more. Learning more about your abilities should definitely help. You can only get better at it if you keep practising. You don't need to leave Hell for that."

Lucifer got up to leave. "Wait," she stopped him. "Could I still have like a basket of kittens? Please? It's just one small thing."

The Devil merely narrowed his icy blue eyes at her. "This is Hell. We don't do kittens," he denied her request. "Unless someone decides to sacrifice some kittens in my name."

"Come on," she sighed, desperately pleading him with her eyes. "I'm cold and dead inside."

"Me too, Zara," he simply said. "Me too." With that he was gone from her room. When he returned to his study, a resentful Abaddon waited for him. "New meatsuit?" he noticed. This one was a petite, elderly Hispanic woman that she'd found in the nearest petrol station. "Is this why you've taken so long to report back?"

"Crowley rigged the place with holy fire bombs," she pouted with a fierceness shining in her eyes. "I loved that meatsuit…"

* * *

 _ **Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 9.13 pm**_

There wasn't a soul in sight in the third victim's house. Just the heavy air of death permeating the household. A tiny monkey watched the tall man treading in the house through the window from its seat on a branch. The large orange bulbs it had for eyes tracked his measured steps from a tree just outside the house. Dean stepped carefully in the darkness, armed with a flashlight and his .45-calibre. He was on the lookout for any indication at all that this vic had been listening to that God-awful band. He and Sam tried to listen to some of their discography and just recoiled in disgust. _Is this what the kids are calling rock these days?_ he scoffed. His sharp gaze struggled to make out the shapes in front of him. There were all the things you'd find in a normal house. Photo frames, mirrors, all that. Then he spotted it. Something shiny on the floor.

He knelt down to inspect it. A spotlight under his torch revealed it to be a fresh patch of blood. Dean's eyebrows crinkled deeply as he searched around himself. Sure enough, he found a fireplace poker lying nearby. Its tip was laced with blood. From there, his eyes trailed upwards to rest on a single ray of light coming from around the corner. _Odd. It wasn't like that before._ The only sound was the creaking of the floorboards under his measured steps. There was a door slightly ajar from which the light poured out into the darkness. Dean's grip tightened on his gun. He neared the door, which likely lead into the basement.

His instinct was all that fuelled him now. He wasn't alone and he was well aware of it. The eerie quiet was not a good sign either. His eyes cursorily wandered back to the fireplace. The blood-tipped poker was no longer there.

His head jerked back to the front just in time to see the poker coming straight at his face. Then it all went black.

Dean roused, feeling an uncomfortable tug at his wrists. Through the blaring pain from the side of his head, he realised that his hands were tied behind him. _Great. This again._ An odd cramp in his back and neck emphasised the uneasy position in which he'd been left on the floor, against a pillar. He shut his eyes almost as soon as he opened them. Even the dim light of the basement was getting a bit much for him.

"Dean?"

It was a soft female voice, one he recognised. He knew this woman. But his spinning head made it difficult to put a name to the voice. His head craned upwards slowly as he began to grow used to his new confinement. His emerald irises turned steely as they rested on her face. It was a face that often made a blank space in his head. Typically, he knew how to read people well. But it was this one face that always left unanswered questions in his memory.

"Zara?"

She was tied up too. But she had the luxury of a chair. She seemed beaten and bruised, all from a scuffle of some kind. There were wounds to match and blood dripping from her mouth and a small cut on her forehead. What Dean seemed most taken by was that she was wearing something completely different from what she had earlier – black pants and a top to match, with a leather jacket to complete the ensemble. It made her appear almost completely different. _Who the hell are you?_

"Are you okay?" she asked. From the troubled way she was looking at him, he thought he might look more messed up than he actually was. But this was just another Thursday for him.

"I'm… I'm alright," he found himself talking even though he felt an overwhelming need to know everything about her at once. "What- what are you even doing here?"

"I… so… okay," she struggled to find the words but she really was trying. "So I wasn't completely honest earlier."

"Shocker…" Dean remarked. Now that his vision and head were clearer, he was looking around the room for an escape plan.

"Long story short, I've been… hunting," she confessed. Dean paused, immediately fixing his gaze on her. "I should've guessed that we were on the same trail. But here we are anyway. We need to get outta here before she gets back."

"She?" he wondered.

"The Rakshasa, Dean. Or Raksha _si_ – female. You hunted one before, remember? Funny thing, that's how I knew what this was. The books," she huffed a smile, proud of herself. Dean just rolled his eyes. "Guess I'm officially part of the Supernatural fandom, huh?"

"Please stop," Dean requested. Zara chuckled despite the situation, finding some amusement at his discomfort. That only creeped him out more. "What were you thinking? Coming here all by yourself?"

"I was thinking I could drop the Rakshasi who's been dropping bodies in Missouri," she answered rather confidently. "I've been on her trail for a while now."

Dean was working on his ropes, running them up and down the pillar. "You have a brass knife?"

"I don't need one," Zara answered. Before she could elaborate, the sound of a door opening and closing silenced them. Down she came, the woman with a sharp chin and reptilian eyes. Her cheekbones jutted out so much it could only be described as skeletal. She didn't look like that all the time, of course. But now that she had her target and a rude intruder, anger begged her true form. She trudged towards them like a zombie, dropping the fire poker onto the floor as she stood before them.

"Good, you're both awake. I didn't know you were expecting a visitor," the Rakshasi hissed at Zara, her long, bony finger caressing the side of her face. Zara recoiled away from her touch to little affect. "But it's alright. Ravana appreciates abundance."

"Ravana? Hindu god?" Dean elucidated.

"Don't worry about introductions. He'll be here soon," she gleefully informed him before turning back to Zara. "He wants to see you personally."

"Sorry, but he's not my type," Zara spat out bitterly. "I prefer my men human."

That earned her a punch to the face. Dean flinched at the sound of a crack. The Rakshasi grabbed her neck, her sharp nails digging deep in into Zara's cheeks as she held the girl's face in her hand. A simple flick of the wrist and her life would have been crushed in an instant. "You're going to get everything you deserve," the Rakshasi threatened. "For everyone you've hurt. Ravana will take your head as one of his and offer it to Shiva as a sacrifice. And all of us will fight for bits of your flesh to eat in a grand feast. You'll be torn apart so fast, no one's gonna be able to put you back together. Not even-"

"Save it," Zara quickly cut her off. The pain on her face did not faze her grit one bit. "You're going down just like the rest of them. Just like your husband. Just like your brother. I killed all of them and I'll kill you too. And your god's next on the list."

Dean stared in unfettered shock. _Where did_ that _come from?_ He never would have guessed that there was history between her and the monster. His whole string of thoughts was cut off by a single, sharp scream. Dean's head was caught in a flurry, taking a moment to even register that it was a sound that assaulted him, not a physical force. The Rakshasi's mouth was agape in an unnaturally large aperture. The only noise that came out was that heart-stopping noise. It rang in a high-pitched siren-like fashion, aimed at Zara but taking him as collateral. Zara's eyes were shut and her head was turned away in defence. She had the worst of it, what with the Rakshasi baring her piehole right in front of her. When the noise finally stopped, they were both left to wonder what the hell they'd just witnessed.

"I will destroy you, human," she threatened through clenched teeth.

"But you can't, can you?" Zara taunted, regaining her composure. Though that sudden shriek had left her panting and her heart racing, she mustered enough courage for a reckless jibe. "Ravana wants me alive. He wants me for himself, doesn't he?"

That sent the Rakshasi seething. With a grand sweep of the arm, the monster swung her palm across Zara's chest. Her razor-like nails bit into Zara's skin as she slashed her right shoulder. "Zara!" Dean yelled, now hurriedly attempting to cut his ropes against the pillar. He was going as fast as he could but her blood was faster. Crimson came into view faster than a blink. It was dripping, dripping and flowing from three clean cuts on her shoulder through the tears in both her jacket and shirt.

"He wants you alive. But life and death can be miles apart," the Rakshasi growled, before promptly pacing to the other side of the room to retrieve something. In that brief moment, Zara locked eyes with Dean. She mouthed "Wait" to him. His eyebrows crinkled briefly before he passively conceded. Maybe she did have a plan. It was an odd time to question her confidence so he just went along with it.

"Bidhra, right?" Zara asked. Her head began to grow light. "I get that you want…" she gulped to refresh her dry tongue and push through a wave of stinging pain. "You want revenge for your family and all that. But did you really need to pretend to be part of a shitty band to set up a trail for me? I mean of all the options…"

Bidhra reappeared before Zara, now armed with her archangel blade and a sombre expression. Zara watched the blade carefully as Bidhra rested the tip on Zara's lips. "How self-important of you to think that it was all meant for you…" the Rakshasa traced the blade down her chin, drawing blood and a distinct wince from her. "Maybe part of it was. Just to entice you." Bidhra wiped a stream of blood off Zara's chin with a finger, only to lick that finger clean. "Mmm… All that anger has cooked you well…" she moaned. She even licked the blood off the blade to savour every drop. "Is this the blade you used to kill my husband? They say it is the sword of a powerful archangel."

"Who's saying that?" Dean interjected. He could tell Zara was trying to stall, but for what? In any case, she seemed to be running out of energy (and blood) so he kept it going.

"Oh, everyone. This sword is all the rage in the underworld," Bidhra now held it in the light to admire its detail. "It's the sword that took down the Javelin, it is said."

"The hell's Javelin?" Dean probed. Bidhra paused to stare at Dean in confusion. Then she took a step towards him. Then another. She knelt down, her face coming eerily close to his.

"Your soldier must be an idiot," she simply said. Her claw-like fingers held his chin and inspected his face. "A pretty idiot."

"Soldier?" Dean iterated.

"He's not my soldier," Zara breathed a response. "He's my friend."

"Aww, he's your friend," Bidhra repeated, mocking a touched expression. "Then you can watch while I have him all to myself."

"Whatever happened to abundance for Ravana?" Zara questioned in a weak attempt to keep her away from him.

"He wouldn't mind if I dug in first. It's you he wants anyway," Bidhra didn't even bother looking at Zara. She was fully fixed on Dean, licking her lips as she pondered on which of his bones to pluck out and chew first. Dean was equally raptured. His mind raced for options to get away from her as he yanked his wrists to get free as quickly as possible. But with the knife pointed right at his chest, he wasn't so sure of his escape plan.

"Hey," a voice said behind her. Dean looked up. Zara stood like a monolith behind the Rakshasi. Without a moment to spare, she brought down the fire poker onto the monster's head, knocking her away. Dean reacted quickly, pulling his arms free. Bidhra swiftly recovered, shooting up to her feet and charging Zara.

Zara struck again at the rapidly approaching figure but her strike was futile as the full mass of the Rakshasi slammed into her, hurling her backwards against a wall. The wind was knocked right out of her, leaving her a coughing mess on the floor. She barely had a second to realise her position when Bidhra had her up against the wall, hand around her neck. Zara gasped for air, arms flailing at the creature. It was in that moment that the Rakshasi's serpentine pupils sharply narrowed. Bidhra passively looked down at her abdomen. The bloodied tip of a blade protruded from her solar plexus.

Dean briskly pulled out the blade. Zara coughed again, rubbing her bruised neck. A moment of silence passed between them. Zara simply stared at the dead body of the Rakshasa, ruminating on how close she'd gotten to death yet again. Dean, on the other hand, was enamoured by the power of the blade in his hand.

"Archangel blade," Zara said, heaving. "Wastes pretty much everything."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 5 months ago**_

 _Tick, tick, tick._ Her mind counted the seconds. Time slipped through her fingers with the red pearls of wine and blood mixed together. On the floor was a broken glass. Zara's vision blurred in and out. It was the only movement she noticed at all. She'd been laying on her side with a hand hanging off the edge of the bed for a while now, still as a corpse. This time she'd really done it. She was sure she'd never drank so much in her life. Ever. She was so high, consciousness was merely a suggestion. Her palm stung where she'd crushed the wine glass but she really didn't care at this point. It was all just bodily sensations. There was no emotional weight to anything. But at least there was Old School Thrash Metal playing in the background to keep her thoughtless mind company.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," she drawled, pulling herself to a sitting position though the pillow seemed to attract her head like a magnet. She slipped at first and surrendered to gravity. The door clicked open and the visitor entered. She tried again, slowly this time. With a concerted effort, her body managed the task.

"Your hand," the demon immediately noticed, rushing over and kneeling to inspect the damage. He was a rather smartly-dressed one, with clean facial features to match. He had dark, curly hair that seemed soothing to Zara's sleepy eyes. He took her wounded palm and carefully pulled out tiny shards of glass that were embedded in her skin. She winced a little. "We need to get this healed. And this mess cleaned up. I'll get someone to help."

"No," Zara ordered, weakly grabbing his shoulder. "You will not."

"But-"

"It's just a few cuts, Dan," she drunkenly droned, body swaying slightly where she sat. "It won't kill me. Did you get what I asked?" Hesitantly, his hands reached into his jacket and pulled out a sachet of white powder. "Perrffect…" Zara grabbed it from him.

"I don't think this is a good idea, my lady," he worried. "That's more than your normal amount."

"Shut up, Dan. You're not supposed to care about humans," Zara snapped at him. "Now leave." She put the sachet on the bedside table. "Wait." She grabbed at his jacket again and he returned his gaze to her. Dan's face was expressionless. Zara grabbed his jaw with a hand, turning his face to inspect it. "Where'd you get this meatsuit?"

"Accounting firm," he blankly replied. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Not bad…" she remarked. Before he could react, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Dan was positively befuddled, face recoiling in shock as he pushed her away.

"I'm not supposed to," he just said as he held her shoulders firmly.

"But do you want to…?" Zara reciprocated his confusion.

"Uhh…" If demons could blush… "Boss wouldn't like it, ma'am."

"Boss isn't here, Dan…" she targeted him with those razor-sharp brown irises and a sly smile. "Aren't you supposed to give me everything I ask for?"

For a moment, he was captured by the possibility. I mean, she wasn't a bad-looking girl. And sexual exploits were something fairly enjoyable to demons – all that _creativity_ they had – even if they didn't actively seek out such things. Inevitably, the image of Satan pervaded his mind. "No, I can't," Dan resisted despite immense pressure.

Zara's expression eased ominously, her lips forming a tight line. She'd make a great demon someday, he thought. She had the look. "I guess I'll just have to find Hades," she threatened. Defiantly, she stood up. But it was all too fast, all too soon. She'd barely stood up when her head reeled and she was knocked off balance by her own motion.

Dan rushed to catch her in his arms. Against her pathetic struggle, he managed to lay her down on the bed. "You won't be finding anyone in this condition," he remarked. "Stay here while I get someone to clean up the mess."

She flinched as the door shut. Zara groaned. _Can't even get a demon to sleep with me._ She wanted to cry but there weren't any tears left. Instead, she grabbed the packet of God-juice, as she called it, and dragged herself to the dresser on the other side of the room and took a seat on the ornate wooden chair with a cushioned seat. Despite feeling like her brain had become a cloudy mush at this point, she remained self-aware enough to know that her hand-eye coordination wasn't going to be the best. Still, she tried her best to pour a measured amount of cocaine onto the table and straightened a line with an old letter opener that she'd found earlier. Then, she rolled up a dollar bill and off she went.

She leaned well over the table to get every last grain. Then her head shot back with the instant rush. Her body eased as she relaxed against the chair. "Yes…" she moaned. Her pink lips parted in a short giggle. Her chest heaved rhythmically as her mind flew at light speed. The tempo of the thrash metal suddenly became more obvious. Its speed became a highway on which her consciousness travelled. She headbanged to the rhythm of an Overkill song, feeling the music like the blood rushing through her veins. "Elimination… _E_ limination!" she sang clumsily. Loudness was a constraint of the physical universe but Zara had just transcended it. She turned up the volume. Her body twitched and bobbed about in what could loosely be termed a dance. Her hair flew everywhere and she was so close to losing her balance and falling as a messy heap onto the floor again.

The rush began to fade. Zara clamoured back to the table, pouring out just a little more. This was her normal dose, so she didn't think much of it. It felt like there was a large bubble of happiness building up inside of her and it just burst spontaneously when she'd snorted the second line. Again, her body flailed about to the rhythm. This time, she paced around the room, practically prancing about as she sang to the walls and wardrobe and bed. She didn't know what the hell she was saying but she had to keep her mouth moving or else chatter her teeth uncontrollably.

Moving about felt like walking on cotton candy. She moved as though her feet never touched the ground until she grew bored of going about in circles. _Have some more!_ A cheerleader in her head urged. "Maybe I will," she said and giggled. In went another line. _Another one!_ "Gotcha," she nodded like someone in a commercial. _More! More! More!_ The audience cheered. "For me?" she beamed. She carefully tipped the packet, but try as she might, she lost control and all the remaining powder spilled onto the table. "Oh no," she separated a single line from the remaining amount. "I can't… let it all go to waste…"

Before she knew it, there wasn't any left. "Wooo!" she shrieked in excitement. "Fight me, God. Just fight me!"

A poor wall was subject to repeated punches as she decided to train her jabs and hooks. There was more jumping, more dancing, more everything. She was going off the rails on the crazy train, as Ozzy would have put it. It literally felt like veering off a track and falling off a cliff. This was the most she had truly _felt_ in a while. Every emotion at once welcomed her. She didn't have time to keep track of any of them. They all flew past her in a speedy circle – anger, joy, sadness, anger, joy, sadness and so on the cycle went. Until a fourth feeling took over her. Pain.

Zara gasped and froze in her position. She felt something sharp in her chest. Her hand instantly moved to feel whether she'd accidentally stabbed herself. It was a 'no' on that note. That gave her some relief. And then it struck again, harder and longer this time. " _Shit_ ," she cussed hoarsely as she sank to the floor. Her heart seemed to be tearing itself apart, forcing a loud groan through her lips. Her breaths grew shallow and her mind panicked. She wanted to yell for help but everything just happened too fast. She was about to pull herself up but her right hand stung with the incisions from the glass. Naturally, she tried to use her left hand. But it wouldn't move. Try as she might, her left hand remained numb by her side. She whimpered in fear but even her mouth felt weird and heavy. It was just a matter of seconds before she fell back, limp on the floor.

The maid demon gently knocked on the door before entering. The door slowly nudged open as the demon's eyes scanned the room for its sole inhabitant. She simply gaped at the lifeless body on the floor.

Lucifer was in the middle of planning his next move with Abaddon and Hades. "…I don't care what you do-"

His icy blue eyes froze in mid-air, as did his sentence. He felt a sudden tingle, like a switch went off in his head. _You can't be serious…_

"Sir?" Abaddon frowned.

He turned slowly in the direction of the door to his study, staring into the hallway. Then he looked at his palm. A light glowed on his fingertips. He took a tight breath in, eyebrows knotted in a kind of annoyance that he'd never quite reached before. And that was saying something. He promptly took off in the direction of the room at the end of the hallway, leaving his two loyal subjects to wonder what the hell was going on. They trailed cautiously behind while their boss seemed to be tearing through the air with a fiery determination. The door to the room flung open and the demon rushed out. At the sight of her boss, she trembled in fear. "I found her like that, sir!" she quivered.

With a sweep of the arm, Lucifer flung the demon to the side as he rushed into the room. In its centre, he found Zara laying eerily still in the open space. He stopped at her side, simply taking the time to observe her. Her legs were turned slightly to her left, a remnant of an attempt to curl up into a ball. Similarly, her wounded right hand lay resting on her chest while her left was straightened. Her mouth and eyes remained open. Those brown irises stared straight at him, though her eyelids were only half-open. Lucifer wanted to gouge her eyes out. Just dig his fingers so deep into her skull that he could feel her brain. But that wasn't an option.

"Death is your colour," Lucifer told the corpse. "Hm."

He touched two fingers to her forehead. Zara gasped a breath of life.

* * *

 _ **Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 10.41pm**_

There was a knock on the door. Dean pulled it open to greet the concerned face of his brother. "What happened? Is everything okay?" Sam asked. All he'd received was a text telling him to meet at Zara's hotel room.

Dean simply stepped back to let his brother in, face eclipsed with a complex mix of surprise, disappointment and an unknown third emotion. Unsure of what to expect, Sam cautiously stepped inside. His eyes found Zara and widened momentarily. "Hey, Sam. Again," she greeted from her seat at the table.

"What the hell happened to you?" He pulled up a chair to sit opposite her as he studied the cut on her forehead and the one on her chin. Also the bruise on her cheek. She'd changed into a black tank top with a matching cardigan.

"Hunting," Dean dryly answered.

"Seriously?" Sam looked between her and his brother. "You were…?"

"Trying to take down that Rakshasa bitch," Zara completed his sentence, pulling her cardigan closer around her body.

"Since when…?" Sam couldn't even finish his sentences from how baffled he was.

"I've been hunting for a while now," she nodded with an apologetic expression.

"A lot of Rakshasas, apparently," Dean added. He was unamused as ever.

"Yeah, been running into a lot of them recently," Zara confessed. "Just my luck, huh?" She tried to laugh it off but neither of them were easing up.

"Why did you lie to us before?" Sam pressed with a curious frown.

"Well… um," she began. She was nervous about opening up, which she evidently conveyed with a bite of her lower lip. "Honestly, I didn't think the both of you were going to take me seriously. You guys probably think I'm a bad person and… I don't blame you."

"You _have_ made pretty questionable decisions in the past," Dean agreed.

"Yeah, I'm… not known for making good decisions. It's kind of a running theme in my life actually," she smirked sardonically to hide the years of pain brought about by that very trait. "I used to wonder how you guys did it, you know. This… finding trouble and facing it to save people. But I… I get it now. I was in a really dark place for a really long time. This has given me…" The words only got harder to say the more she spoke. "…purpose and meaning, which I didn't have much of before." She suddenly inhaled, straightening up. "I understand if you think it's all nonsense," she shrugged.

"No, no, it's alright," Sam reassured her. The way he saw her now, he could clearly see how much she'd grown as a person. She definitely looked so much more different from what he'd seen before. There was a new calmness – a new certainty – within her that made her look stronger.

"It was kinda ballsy how you talked to that Rakshasi. Like you knew her personally," Dean pointed out.

"I've been tracking these monsters for some time so that I could learn more about them," she explained, meeting his gaze confidently. "It's how I got to her husband and brother first."

"Rakshasa have family?" Sam wondered.

"They are social creatures just like us. Just because they take long dirt naps, it don't mean they don't want a pretty beau to wake up to," she informed him.

"How romantic," Dean dryly commented.

"Yeah," she huffed. "But I think there's something deeper going on with the Rakshasas."

"How d'you mean?" Sam asked.

"This is what, the fifth one I've hunted? They're all waking up from hibernation and staying awake longer than they need to. It's like they're preparing for something. I don't like how it's all looking," she admitted. She paused nervously to see their reactions but they just seemed stunned.

"This have something to do with the Javelin thing she was talking about?" Dean brought up. "What is it anyway?"

Zara shrugged and shook her head in doubt. "Maybe. Maybe not. Javelin is… an organisation," she paused to find the right way to put it. "It's like a communication system for the old gods. Pagan gods, their disciples, their associates – anyone who wants anything to do with them." Her brown irises met his light green ones. "I might have… messed with it a little bit."

"The way she put it, you did more than mess with it," Dean recalled.

"Okay, I was trying to take them down. But if you know anything about these people, this will probably only be a minor setback. They're probably working on fixing it right now," she answered.

"Wow," he huffed a smile. "Put that in a résumé."

"You did this all by yourself?" Sam flustered. "That's dangerous, even for us."

"What can I say? I have a taste for death. But I'm kinda unstoppable," she shrugged it off. "Maybe this is where I'm meant to be. With everything I've learnt from Sophia and an archangel blade that can kill anything, I can… save the world? Now that's what I call career progression."

She chuckled at her own ego boost. Sam reciprocated the smile. For a moment, they simply looked into each other's eyes. Zara could find some comfort in his. And his dimples were distracting too. "Really?" Dean remained cynical. "That thing would've killed you if I hadn't shown up. Why don't you show Sam the little gift she gave you?"

"I've survived worse, Dean," she rebutted, drawn away from Sam's reassuring aura to Dean's impenetrable one. "I'm stronger than I look."

"Just show him," he ordered. Sighing, Zara pulled down the right side of her cardigan, revealed the three nasty cuts, lined with stitches, under her tank top.

"Oh my God," Sam exhaled as he regarded the nasty wound. Now that her cardigan was down, the bruises around her neck were obvious too. "The Rakshasa did _that_ to you?"

"So much for being unstoppable," Dean criticised.

"Hazards of the job," she coolly answered despite the temptation to sound as rude as he did. "Wouldn't the both of you know best about that?"

Sam nodded in assent, shrugging at his brother to say that it made sense.

"Okay, Zara," Dean interjected. "I don't mean to rain on your parade. If you want to put yourself in harms way to take down evil, more power to you. But don't you think there's something you're missing?" The both of them simply looked at him in askance. "You're using Sophia's blade. You don't think she's gonna come back for it?"

Zara sighed. Now _this_ was the real meat of the issue. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Dean. Sophia could be dead somewhere for all I know. Maybe Lucifer killed her. They didn't exactly part on good terms," she firmly stated. "All I know is that I can't keep fearing the moment she comes back. There's only me, myself and I. And I've never felt freer."

"Hm. Okay," he finally relented, albeit reluctantly. Though Sam was uncomfortable with how cynical his brother was being, he had to admit that hearing her actually talk like this only made her case stronger. He felt like he could finally rest easy with the thought of her. He always knew that there was something good in her, even when the circumstances didn't show it. In fact, he could relate. He shot her a brief smile, as if apologising for his brother's behaviour.

"Hey, do you guys think that people will give me more money out of sympathy?" she pointed at the cuts on her face. "You know, when I perform on the streets and all that."

"You won't have to find out," Dean simply said. "Pack up. We're leaving."

"What- Where are we going?" her wide eyes beckoned them for an explanation.

"I think what Dean is trying to say is that we can take you someplace safe. Where you can stay away from demons and all that," Sam said more eloquently.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, making towards the door. Sam got up to join him. "We'll meet you downstairs in an hour."

"Wait, right now?" Zara was still stunned.

"Yesterday, princess," Dean snidely retorted. "Freakin' Hindu god's probably looking for you. How long do you think it'll take for him to sweep the whole city? Be ready."

Sam was puzzled by that revelation but held off his questions for later. "Fine," Zara simply nodded. "Didn't think I could afford to stay here much longer anyway."

When they finally left, Zara heaved the deepest sigh of relief. That was a lot of work.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 5 months ago**_

Zara awoke on her bed, like any other day. A momentary disorientation came over her. She tried to think back to her last memory but couldn't recall anything. But something felt different. She slowly sat up.

"You're awake," someone said next to her.

"Dan?" she recognised, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Have some water," he poured her a glass and held it out for her. Puzzled by his hospitality, she accepted the glass. "The King wants to see you in his study. Get cleaned up quickly."

"Wait, what happened?" she pressed. "Why are you in my room?"

"He assigned me to watch over you," Dan simply said, posture rigid as ever. Before she could ask anything else, he continued, "The King would really like to speak with you."

 _O…kay. That does not sound good._ As she stood in the shower, some bits and pieces came back to her. All that alcohol… and music and dancing. And cocaine. _Oh no,_ she realised. _It's happening again._ She remembered her last cocaine addiction in high school. Jack had been the only person who knew. The only person who cared enough to make her stop. Now that she thought about it, she'd found herself in this exact situation before – waking up one day, suddenly clear-headed, only to remember the last bout of insane crack sniffing that should have left her in a sorry state.

Somehow she always woke up refreshed and more alive - 'always' referring to the grand total of two times, including this one. The last time, Jack said she'd overdosed and there was a good chance she could've died. Lucky for her, the persistent bastard snuck her back into her room in the middle of the night and stayed at her bedside until she woke up in the morning, risking getting caught by her overbearing mother. There was an ache in her chest at the thought of him. She'd left him in her past life, only to get in return… the Devil himself in this one.

All dressed up and ready, Zara left her room to embark on the stressful journey to the end of the hallway. She hesitated at the doorway. The door was open and he was seated at the table with his back to her. Her knuckle awkwardly froze mid-air, ready to knock, when he suddenly spoke.

"Zara, come in."

She obliged, shaking with every inch she grew closer to him. She knew what was coming. He literally asked _one_ thing of her and she couldn't do it. She wondered how she should apologise. Beg for mercy at his feet? Say some nice things about him to boost his ego?

"Please, take a seat," he telekinetically pushed a chair outward such that she would be sitting right next to him. She obliged. She was horribly uncomfortable with being so close to him. His composure, which was unseemly of the moment, did not make things easier. "Do you remember what happened?"

She studied his posture. His hands were folded and legs crossed. His expression was unreadable. Anyone who didn't know who he was might have said it was a neutral expression – concerned, even. But with Lucifer, there had to be something else underneath. A fury that would only be known when it was too late. "I must've… must've overdosed on crack," she guessed. It was the best she could come up with, considering the fragmented information in her head.

"You died. Zara, you died," he plainly stated.

"Huh." What else was she supposed to say?

"So here's the thing," Lucifer leaned closer to her. "I've come to realise… maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Our whole… 'I-don't-want-to-be-with-you-and-you-don't-want-to-be-with-me' dynamic is just not working out. You see that, right?"

She remained stiff in her seat, mystified by his choice of words. She passively nodded, waiting for the ball to drop. "Uh-huh."

"I don't really like that. I want to fix it. I can't go on with this… bad line of communication between us," he used his palms to demonstrate a back-and-forth between them. "You know what's important for a good relationship, Zara?"

She blinked a few times to process the question. "Uh… trust?"

He nodded firmly and straightened a finger to accept the point. "Trust. Trust is so… so vital. I want there to be trust between us," he confessed, even giving her a reassuring smile. Zara felt her stomach turning. "And I realise that I have to practise what I preach, so…"

"So…?" she pressed. Lucifer turned back to the door, gesturing Abaddon to enter. By now, the Knight had managed to get her old vessel back with the help of a committed demon.

"I have a mission for you," he announced. "Abaddon, you will take Zara with you to Louisiana later for the meetup."

Abaddon seemed rather dumbfounded at the suggestion. "But sir," she protested. "Exposing her to our enemies could be dangerous."

"I think it's high time that Zara learnt to be one of us. Besides, _you'll_ keep her safe, won't you?" Lucifer expectantly put forth with a non-negotiable glare.

"Yes, sir," Abaddon naturally accepted, though a hint of reservation could be detected in her tone.

"Good. The both of you are dismissed," he said, returning his attention to a book he'd been reading. Abaddon was about to leave when she noticed Zara still seated, a question hesitantly poised on her lips. And so did Lucifer. "What?"

"You have my blade," Zara stated, anticipating an appropriate response. But Lucifer merely looked at her and waited for a substantial point to emerge. " _May_ I have my blade?"

"It's not _your_ blade," he challenged. It seemed obvious to him.

"Okay, Sophia's blade," she relented.

"Whatever would you need it for?" he puzzled.

"Wh- to protect myself?!" Zara's eyes darted from side to side, amazed that this even needed to be said.

"You can have a gun," Lucifer granted with a single firm nod to decree that there will be no more questions. But Zara still seemed unconvinced. "That sword is one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. You think you're just entitled to it? You need to _earn_ that right."

Zara said nothing. Internally, she threw up her hands and groaned. But on the outside, she just dragged herself out the door to get ready. Left alone to his thoughts, Lucifer pulled up the long sleeve of his shirt. A nasty sore appeared on his left forearm. It was just a small wound but it reminded him of the limited time he had left. Resurrecting Zara had taken a toll on him. His lungs burned when he had done it, though the feeling had soon died down. But the warning had been made abundantly clear.

Soon, Zara found herself in the armoury of the lower levels among a whole troop of demons. They all stopped their chatter and stared when she entered. Tingles erupted on her skin from all those black eyes curiously regarding her. She expected some kind of sneer or ridicule. After all, she was just a measly, fragile human among robust creatures like them. They all seemed to tower over her like a monolith reaching into a sky that had clouds of sulfur. Without her blade, she was defenceless against them too. An uneasy feeling grew in her chest at that very thought – she was utterly dependent on them for protection, wherever they were going. And the only thing that kept them from chewing her up was the incumbent King.

"You know how to use one?" a demon held out the grip of a gun towards her. She nodded meekly. She holstered it onto her belt and hid it from view under the one leather jacket she found in her closet. Without the only weapon that gave her any kind of security at all, Zara had adorned Sophia's _kohl_ and carried the hawk statue in her pocket. It was a meagre defence, but something was better than nothing.

"Alright, listen up," Abaddon's commanding voice filled the room as she entered. Zara thought it a little creepy how all the demons had chosen to display their full-coloured eyes like some secret greeting of allegiance while she stood out with her human sclerae. On the bright side, no one seemed to care about her presence from the moment Abaddon appeared. "This is a simple negotiation. I don't want anyone opening fire _unless_ I give the signal." Nods went around in abundance. Then the Knight fixated on Zara. "You stay close to my side, got it?"

Even when Abaddon tried to sound reassuring, it came across as a threat. Zara nodded. She didn't know anything about where they were going, which did not help her nerves.

"Don't say a word. Don't go anywhere you're not supposed to. Just watch," Abaddon continued while the demons piled out of the room, some teleporting themselves directly to the location.

"You won't even know I'm there," Zara assented monotonously.

"Just so you know, I didn't ask to be on babysitting duty," the Knight's eyes narrowed. She leaned in close to Zara's ear. "So you'd better keep your head on your shoulders."

Zara gulped. "I'll try my best," she promised. "So what's this mission about?"

"We're about to strike a deal with an organisation called Javelin," Abaddon explained. "They think we're going to buy information from them."

"Oh," she accepted. But Abaddon didn't seem to be clarifying anything for her. "So what are we _actually_ going to be doing?"

The Knight's bright cherry lips widened into a dastardly smile. "We're going to introduce ourselves," she answered gleefully. She put a hand on Zara's shoulder and within an instant, they were teleported to their destination.

 _ **River City Casino, New Orleans, Louisiana**_

"The Javelin uses casinos as a front for their business. Anyone who wants to get in touch with them has to go through their human servants first," Abaddon elaborated as they stood before the large building. The other demons were already inside, disguised, Zara presumed. "That makes it simple for us, of course."

"So you're going to kill them?" Zara inferred.

"Kill them? What are we, savages? No, darling. This is a diplomatic mission," she corrected. "Now put a smile on that pretty face. It might come in handy."

With that, Abaddon briskly went on forward inside the casino. Zara had a hard time keeping up with her inhuman pace. She was panting by the time they entered and then came their first obstacle. A metal detector. Abaddon passed through with no problem. She had no need of weapons, after all. But Zara's heart raced as she neared. The security guard gestured for her to surrender any electronic devices or firearms that she might have. Her frenzied eyes looked to Abaddon beyond the checkpoint. The Knight simply nodded to tell her to comply. Zara exhaled. She handed over her gun and the hawk statue, suddenly feeling so naked.

"Fancy, what's this?" the security guard asked as he looked at the palm-sized figurine.

"Good luck charm. My mom gave it to me before she passed away," Zara lied, shooting him an innocent smile.

"Please step through, ma'am," he signalled. She obeyed, passing through the large metal detector frame without anything going wrong. He handed back the hawk but withheld the gun, keeping it in a locker instead and giving her a numbered ticket. "Have a good one, miss."

"Yeah," she re-joined Abaddon, heart heavy with the sudden feeling of nakedness. "This is off to a good start."

"It was your idea," Abaddon pointed out.

"Excuse me for trying to stay alive. That's what Lucifer wanted, right?" she grumbled, folding her arms. They soon entered a large hall full of slot machines and roulette wheels. The noise made it seem like a different planet of its own, with strange 'beep's and 'ding's sounding in a gluttonous symphony. Zara and Abaddon stood out from the rich elite gambling their earnings away with their simple denim and leather. Just the sight of all the women in skanky clothing and jewellery more expensive than anything she'd ever owned made her a little sick. She didn't know if she felt disgust or admiration towards them. "Where now?"

"Meeting's on the upper levels," Abaddon informed her, gaze caught by a specific door guarded by two men. She approached them, weaving through rows of the affluent, and presented a round gold token. Recognition flashed across their faces and one of them held the door open to let them in.

The hallways were much quieter here. Zara could finally admire the luxury of this place, what with its carpeted floors and domed ceiling. A man wearing a blue velvet suit greeted them and escorted them to one of the highest floors which was reserved for only a few visitors, as was implied by his use of an access card. He led them to a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave them a scenic aerial view of the city below. The ceiling was so high that the room simply looked majestic. It had dark mahogany walls and furniture and a bar on the side directly facing the windows. "Please wait here," the man beckoned with a courteous smile before leaving.

"Snazzy," Zara complimented as she took notice of a costly-looking vase on a small table next to a large couch. They weren't alone there. There was one other man in a suit reading a magazine on one of the luxurious couches sprawled around the room. Soon, a waiter came and served him some toast, even buttering his bread for him with the fanciest butter knife that Zara had ever seen. It was probably made of pure silver. Zara took a seat next to him, though she kept her distance.

She looked through the assortment of magazines on the coffee table, hoping to find something at least mildly interesting. Failing to do so, she decided she might as well attempt small talk with Abaddon. She looked up. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of nothingness. Her head craned to scan the room. Abaddon was gone.

She was alone.


	69. Leap of Faith

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 69: Leap of Faith**

 _ **The Bunker, Lebanon, Kansas – 16 September 2012, 8.22am**_

"Home sweet home," Dean announced as he entered the kitchen, armed with grocery bags.

"You're back," Cas noticed, standing over a studious Kevin who looked like he hadn't moved an inch from his seat since the last time they'd seen each other. "I take it that your hunt was successful?"

"Yeah. More than," Dean confirmed. Then he exhaled, thoughts heavy on his lips. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, immediately conscious of the hesitation. Something was coming - he knew it. "Actually, uh, I have some news."

This time Kevin too looked up. His eyebags only seemed to grow with every meeting. "Where's Sam?" Cas asked, imagining the worst case scenario. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, yeah he's alright. It's not him," Dean began. "We have… a new housemate."

"Okay…" Cas slowly nodded. Dean's hesitation only worried him more. "Who is it?"

That was when Sam walked in, with what looked to be a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. A bag that was clearly not his. And behind him, she followed, holding a guitar case. Castiel's blue irises appeared as full circles as recognition shot through him. Zara half-heartedly met his gaze, knowing full well the awkwardness of this situation. "Hiya Cas," she greeted meekly.

"Zara," he dared utter her name. A number of suggestions raced through his mind. _No archangel. Wounds on upper body. In the same room as the Winchesters… so, not hostile?_ Despite reason telling him not to be alarmed, one memory pervaded his thoughts. _Death._ "What is she doing here?"

"Long story," Sam sighed. "But could you first… you know," he pointed fleetingly at his forehead and gestured towards her. Castiel truly saw past his surprise at this point as his healer instincts kicked in. He approached her, ready to touch a finger to her head.

"Of course."

"It's alright," Zara dismissed, leaning away. "I can handle my own scrapes."

The angel did it anyway and instantly, all her pain vanished. "I've learnt not to question it," Dean simply said. He was met with a challenging glare from Castiel but he simply shrugged.

"Thanks," she managed a soft smile at him. "And… sorry. That my hands were used to kill you."

His eyes softened at the confession. It occurred to him that it was ridiculous to blame her for Sophia's sins. And maybe on some level, he understood why he'd been killed. "I'm sorry that it ever came to that," he admitted too.

"Alright," Dean clapped his hands together once to get their attention, lest the situation get any more tense. "Oh and this is Kevin, by the way."

He signalled towards the kid, who'd only been watching in mild curiosity at the whole scene unfold. Cas and Sam parted so that she could see him. Kevin said an obligatory hello from his spot at the dining table. "Kevin, Zara," Sam introduced with the appropriate hand gestures. "Hunter, prophet."

"Prophet," she repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sounds important. You see things?"

"No, not that kind of prophet," Kevin corrected her. "Less That's So Raven, more Da Vinci Code."

Zara's eyes were eerily fixated in his direction. She wasn't saying anything in response so Castiel assumed simpler language was needed. He too got mystified at times by the pop culture references being thrown around. "He's decrypting the-"

"Angel tablet," Zara exhaled in shock. The boys all exchanged puzzled glances while she just treaded forward slowly towards the table. She extended her palms, making a sign to Kevin to hand over the tablet. Curious, he complied. She held the tablet in her hands, running her fingers over the writings. "Impossible…"

"You know about it?" Dean was the first to ask behind her.

"I remember…" A series of images flashed through her head so fast she had to shut her eyes. She'd also recalled Lucifer mentioning its loss, as well as a disgruntled rant about how Sophia was probably gonna school him about it when she got back.

"You okay there?" Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," she blinked a few times to dispel the flashback. "How did you get this? Sophia made sure to hide it in…" she thought first that it would be unwise to reveal the location, but seeing as they already had the tablet, it seemed trivial to hide it. "…in Lucifer's crypt."

"Well we broke _into_ Lucifer's crypt," Dean stated rather proudly. "With the help of a demon."

"Was it Meg?" Zara probed. "I bet it was Meg."

"It was," Sam confirmed.

"She called it," Zara huffed, chuckling to herself. "I can't believe she called it." Before anyone could ask, she elaborated, "Sophia knew this was going to happen. Did you know that she tried to kill every demon who knew about the crypt? But Lucifer stopped her before she could kill the only demon left and… they had a little argument. And guess who gets caught in the middle of their lovers' quarrel?"

"Sounds fun," Dean remarked dryly. That story sounded familiar. Meg had told them something along those lines. So Zara was telling the truth.

"So you have knowledge of where the tablets were hidden," Castiel pointed out. "You could help us find the demon tablet."

"Well, uh…" Zara paused. "This is the only tablet that I saw Sophia hide. I'm not much help beyond that. Sorry."

"But you have access to her repository," Castiel persisted. The boys picked up on that sudden revelation, looking between the former vessel and the angel. Though Castiel seemed rightly sceptical of her, he did find it odd that her confusion matched the Winchesters'.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned rather uncertainly.

"Sophia's repository," he clarified with a firm nod. "The one that contains everything that she knows, which will naturally include the location of all the tablets. You know where it is."

"I do?" her head tilted. "I've never heard of this repository before. Who told you this?"

"The angel Raziel. Sophia's confidante," he answered. "She told him about it before she left on some unnamed business." His eyes narrowed rather cynically at her, which made her uncomfortable. Suddenly it felt like she was put on the spot and Sam was increasingly aware of it.

"But if _he's_ her confidante, shouldn't he know where it is? Why would she trust _me_ , of all people, with information like that?" she calmly asserted. Silence fell over the room. To everyone else, it seemed rather obvious that Zara shouldn't be privy to such classified information, which was why his sudden scepticism surprised even Dean.

"Perhaps she doesn't doubt your loyalty to her," Castiel accused. Zara held his gaze with soft eyes, even shrinking back slightly. Her small size in comparison to the men around her lent support to her portrayed vulnerability.

"Cas, that's enough," Sam interjected in defence of her. "We've all had difficult pasts."

Cas simply nodded and stepped back as if to relent, though he still wore his doubts on his collar. His lips formed a tight line though he softened the blue steel a little. "My apologies."

"You've every right to ask your questions," she simply said, lips quivering into a concessionary smile.

"Okay Boris, time to settle down and find whatever works," Dean came between them. Castiel and Zara both crinkled their eyebrows slightly at that reference but for markedly different reasons.

Kevin decided to break the awkward tension in the room at this juncture. "Guys, uh, I think I may have found something," he began. He flipped through the disarray of unconnected pieces of paper to find the right one. "There's a section here… that talks about archangels. I haven't been able to piece together everything but it looks promising."

"Awesome," Dean praised. "Keep digging. We need everything we can get to ice Satan. Spells, archangel blade, the whole nine."

"Where would we find an archangel blade?" Castiel asked. Dean simply directed his gaze to Zara.

"Oh," she realised. "Yeah, I have Sophia's blade."

"Why?" This did not ease Castiel's suspicions at all.

"What do you mean 'why'? I just do," Zara challenged in turn.

"Okay, cut it out," Dean interjected, again. "No point punching a gift horse in the hatch."

"But wait," she paused, looking between them. "Do we… do we have a plan? Do we even know what Lucifer wants?" she ventured a question.

"We have bits and pieces from the past year," Sam answered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you, uh, get settled in first? You must be tired. We'll fill you in later."

The two of them exchanged a small smile. Sam offered to show her a room so she obliged, following him as they both left the kitchen. Once they were gone, Dean gave Cas a small shrug as if to passively accept the situation. "Dean, do you trust her?" Cas asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Honestly, I don't know. But she saved my life, Cas. And she seems straightened out," he admitted. "If there is even a snowball of a chance that she can help us take down Lucifer, I say we take it."

"You said the same thing during the apocalypse," Cas pointed out. Dean wasn't one to deny that. "Might I remind you that it did not end up well for her _or_ for us?"

"But that wasn't her fault. It was my call. My fault. This time's gonna be different. She stays here. We'll take the blade and we'll finish the job," Dean vowed.

* * *

 _ **River City Casino, New Orleans, Louisiana – 6 months ago**_

Her jaw trembled. Despite the high maintenance of this place, it didn't seem like the heater was working well enough. _Where'd she go? She was just here._ Abaddon's sudden disappearance didn't sit right with Zara. But perhaps she was just worrying too much. After all, a Knight of Hell had no reason to fear a building full of humans. Zara had heard tales of Abaddon's vivacious siege of the British Men of Letters' temporary headquarters in Hell – about how gloriously and mercilessly Abaddon had led the attack. On some level, Zara was grateful that such a harsh fate had befallen her captors. It only seemed fair. Such an esteemed Knight, who was trusted by Lucifer himself, probably knew what she was doing. Which was why Zara hesitated at the idea of leaving the waiting room to check. Yet her thumbs fiddled uncomfortably. Without any line of communication, she wasn't sure how long to wait awkwardly where she was.

"Thought she'd never leave, huh?" a man's voice sounded beside her. She jerked to face him. It was him – the man who'd been sitting there the whole time. He'd set down his magazine and used a serviette to wipe his mouth clean. With his salt-and-pepper hair and square jaw, he looked like a discount George Clooney. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Uhm…" Zara froze with a wide-eyed glare. "Who are you?"

That took him by surprise. He tried to keep his cool, adjusting his fine suit. "Who I am doesn't matter. But who _you_ are… hm…" he hummed with a malicious smile as he regarded her. "Satan sends his finest. That'll surprise 'em."

"Surprise wh- _who_?" her voice trembled. If it was possible for eyes to look like the alarmed question marks in the mind of a college student who didn't study for her finals, Zara's were the very portrait of them.

The man paused to study her facial features. He was but amused by her distress. "It's a good thing you're pretty," he finally said. "What are you, Lucifer's kitten?"

"What?" she consciously refrained from coughing in disgust. "Can- can we just clarify what the _hell_ is going on? Please."

He sighed, giving her a bored look. "Lucifer's commitment is suspect if he's sending a clueless thing like you to us," he remarked. "This is an _induction_ , dear. Your boss seeks to gain entry into our organisation, does he not?"

"Uh… sure…" Zara passively accepted. "What are you? Demon? Angel? Alien?"

The man let out a chuckle rumbling from his core. "None of the above," he shook his head. "I'm human, just like you."

"But I… I don't understand…"

"Here's the thing, sweetie. Our clients don't trust each other enough to meet directly. So they send people like _us_ to do the talking for them," he summarised. "I'm here to represent Javelin, and you're here for Hell."

"Like… human ambassadors?" Zara inferred.

"Human shields, more like," he rebutted with a sceptical frown. "So tell me, what does the Devil want with us?"

"Listen, dude, I don't know what your deal is, but if I'm being honest, I don't know what the hell is going on. You're better off waiting for the redhead to get back," she deflected. Her heart pounded so fast it could tear a hole right through her chest. Her only relief was that the man was human.

"Cut the crap!" he pounded his fist on the table. _Or not._ Zara flinched at the same time the silver-ware clanked in their positions. "We all know that the angels have always despised the pagans, so why would Lucifer be any different? Why should we trust you people?"

"Uh… because… uhm…" Zara's mind raced to find a believable answer. "Lucifer's different. He hates the angels as much as you- your… clients. It would be in both of our best interests to fight the menace that's the uh- the angel presence on earth."

Silence. She congratulated herself on making it to the end of that sentence. "Oh," the man straightened up, contemplating her answer like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. "Alright then. If that is the case, then what will your entry fee be?"

"Entry… fee…?"

"I swear to Zeus…" the man rolled his eyes. "To get into Javelin, everyone must pay a price. What does your boss intend to give us, um…?"

"Zara," she just spoke without thinking, not even considering that her identity was something that had to be protected. She regretted ever speaking the moment the name left her mouth. _It's no wonder he keeps me locked up in Hell._ _Now look what I've done._ A sick feeling took her by storm. A fast tempo, her breaths headed in and out so quickly she began to feel light-headed. _What's happening?_ Her mind felt out of control, refusing to obey laws of normalcy. On the single occasion her darting eyes found the light brown irises of the strange man, he seemed to regard her with curiosity.

"What's it gonna be, Zara?" he persisted. She took a deep breath to ground herself. She didn't have an answer to that question. She couldn't make promises on behalf of Lucifer. She didn't even know how much Lucifer would be willing to give up for such a thing. This wasn't even supposed to be her job! Her silence only vexed the man in the fancy suit. "Look, my clients do not appreciate being made to look like fools. They took a chance with the Devil. So what am I supposed to make of this?"

"I'm… sure… a suitable fee can be discussed at a later time," she blabbered. "Maybe we should um… seal the deal first?"

"Is that a threat?" he accused sharply.

"What? N-"

"I should've known from the start," he sharply stood up, reaching a hand into his jacket. "First, he sends a clueless intern. Then he expects a membership to be handed on a silver platter. What is this, some kind of scam? Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart, this kind of behaviour is not tolerated by Javelin. Lucifer _will_ pay us, whether he wants to or not." His hand reappeared, holding a capped syringe. The blood drained away from Zara's face, reminded brutally of the last time she'd been drugged. "Let's start with you."

"Stay away from me!" she rushed to back away but he grabbed her wrist with an iron grip. In her struggle for escape, the one thing her mind fixated on was the end of that needle. As his thumb worked to uncap it, the only thought the reverberated in her head was that she had to stop him. Her free hand bunched into a fist which she hurled at his face. It worked – he dropped the syringe. But now both his hands were free and scrambling to hold her down. Zara tried to pull away and get free from him but he was far too strong. Their little tussle was confined to that narrow space between the couch and the coffee table. Though it seemed hopeless, she didn't give up. She kicked him in the shins. He groaned, cussing at her. It gave her a little leeway to move.

But as she broke away from his grasp, he only pounced forward to grab her shoulders more forcefully than before. This time, he flung her onto the floor. She let out a shriek as her back impacted the table before hitting the ground, clattering the silver ware with her on the floor. Before she could fully come to terms with the pain radiating from her back, he got on the ground and put his hands around her throat. All she saw was the manic lust for death in his grey eyes as he choked the breath out of her. She tried to push him away to no avail. "Stop struggling and it'll be over," he growled. One hand poised on her neck, the other reached for the syringe.

Panic flooded her bones like a levee torn apart by an earthquake. It was now or never. She had to act quickly. Her palm scrambled on the carpeted floor in search of anything that could help her. Surely enough, the extravagant butter knife found its way into her fingers. With a swift sweep of the arm, she drove it into his neck.

A choked gasp escaped his lips as his gaze slowly drifted to her. Now that she'd gained momentum, the only thing left to do was finish the job. His hand eased from her neck to his own and that was when she gripped the knife with both hands and dragged it across his skin. Blood showered her face in warm pearls, surprising her with its sudden impact. She panted heavily but soon felt only relief. A cool wave spread throughout her chest. It didn't just feel _good_ ; it felt _great_ – to escape the man-hands of death, of course _._ With a laboured push, she shoved the limp man away.

"Lucifer's going to kill me," she muttered under her breath as she stood up next to the corpse.

"I heard something from in there," a distant voice said. _Uh oh. Incoming._ _Hide!_ Zara took cover behind the bar. She blinked to activate her _kohl._ The green outlines of two figures entering with an investigative gait showed up. They seemed to be holding handguns. When they spotted the pool of blood they hurried towards it. One guy clicked a button on his radio while the other knelt down to inspect it. "We have a dead body up here. Possible hostile in the building. Requesting back-up."

This was bad. This was really bad. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here with the whole building on the lookout for her? And could anyone really fuck up a "diplomatic mission" any more than this? Luckily, the room was big enough to warrant the two men splitting up to cover more ground. She stayed low, cowering in the corner where the bar's counter had sides. Just then, one of the guards crept in a straight line past her. The other guy was nearer to the windows. It would be easier to sneak past them were it not for the fact that both doors were in their sights.

Zara slowly shifted her weight into a standing position. She now held the syringe that was meant for her. Chest tightened with the breath she didn't dare exhale, she jabbed the needle into his neck and squeezed. He jerked suddenly. "Hey!" he yelled. Before he could retaliate, she grabbed a liquor bottle and smashed it on his head. That rendered him unconscious. She barely sighed in relief when she realised the other guy had heard their little commotion. Instinctively, she ducked under the counter just as a bullet whizzed in her direction and shattered a neglected glass. She scurried to get the dead man's gun and time her movement with the guy who was now coming over to apprehend her. Just as he turned the same corner his friend did, Zara crept around the other end of the counter.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold her breaths. Lucifer wanted her alive and if she made the wrong move, she could die and it was highly unlikely that he would give her any more chances. _Okay. 1… 2… 3…_ Zara shot up and aimed the gun where the silhouette showed up in her vision. She pulled the trigger. Blood spattered on the row of bottles behind him. Another man down. She went back behind the counter to make sure he was dead. His body convulsed like a fish out of water before suddenly going still. _Yup. He's definitely dead._ Then her eyes drifted to the first guy, whose chest still rhythmically moved up and down in his unconscious state. She shot him too.

A strange mixture of calmness and despair fell over her. "What have I done?" she rued. Her eyebrow twitched, as undecided about her emotions as she was. _Now what?_ A shaky breath left her lips. She knelt down, fixated on the growing radius of blood. It was a deep red. A deep, strong red. The colour was alluring. It reminded her of that divine connection she felt once to her archangel. Her fingers reached out to touch it. If she thought the colour fascinated her while she was possessed, it was something entirely new to see it with full control of her eyes. _Destruction of my own making._ The blood was sticky on her fingertips so she wiped it on a dead guy's shirt.

Deciding that it was probably time she called for help or something, she stood up again. That's when she noticed the camera on the wall, its single eye targeting her. Her senses, attuned by the archangel's cosmetic, picked up on an alarmed disarray elsewhere on the same floor. Footsteps thudded in a disorganised chorus. They were coming for her. Quickly, Zara picked up the other gun lying on the floor and headed out in search of an escape. The hallway was empty but not for long.

She slid into a supply closet and moments later, she watched the green silhouettes of the other men rushing past her into the large room she was in. "She couldn't have gotten far!" she heard someone yell. "Spread out and search the area!"

Sweat dripped from her forehead in beads. Every moment that passed seemed less hopeful than the previous one. She cursed herself for not making a break for it when she could. Now the henchmen were fanning out and on high alert. She watched one after the other pass the supply closet… until one guy chose to stop in front of it. Her breaths grew shallower. She held the gun up, aimed straight at his head. The knob twisted. Light filtered in. And _boom._ He fell backwards.

No time to waste, Zara dashed out the door, searching for another room to hide in. Unfortunately, she ran into another one of them. They were all wearing black suits – they all worked for Javelin, she realised. So these weren't innocent security guards. Did that unburden her conscience a little? Maybe. Maybe it stopped mattering. _Aim. Pull. Bang._ Two more came behind her and she shot them too.

She ran into another room and heard a gasp. Her eyes met those of a woman in a golden dress and a balding middle-aged man seated at a table. They appeared relatively harmless, seeing as neither of them were aiming a gun in her face. But they were witnesses. She pointed the gun at them and they immediately raised their hands in surrender.

"Please!" the woman begged, cowering in her seat. "Don't…"

That gave her pause, though her arm did not ease. "You work for Javelin," she deduced emotionlessly. And from their lack of denial, she guessed she was right. She stepped closer to them.

"Wait, wait!" the man pleaded this time. "We can- we can be useful!"

Zara's interest was piqued. If she got something out of this messy situation, she could beg Lucifer to go easy on her. "I'm waiting."

"Let us go and we'll tell the men to let you leave," the man promised, nodding his head vigorously to convince her of his merits.

"Or I could just shoot you and walk away," she hissed.

"You'll live to regret that," the woman whimpered. "You don't know who you're messing with!"

"Yes, yes, our bosses will retaliate if you kill us now!" the man agreed. "You work for Lucifer, right? He'll never get another chance to join Javelin if you kill us. Let us go, and we'll… we'll convince the higher-ups to let you in."

Zara silently considered his argument. "You see, there's something… I don't understand…" she relaxed her posture. Seeing her ease up, the two of them mirrored her composure. "You and the other guy kept talking about letting Lucifer in but… _why_ would Lucifer want to be part of your stupid posse anyway? What can _you_ possibly offer _him_?"

Through her peripheral, she spotted another silhouette approaching the door rapidly. Just as he appeared at the doorway, she jerked her arm to shoot him. The woman let out a shriek, covering her mouth in shock, while her companion was retreating his arm under the table. Zara quickly returned the gun's aim to them.

"Hands where I can see them!" she ordered. They both obliged again. This was a strange feeling – being in control. Yet things had escalated so fast that it was difficult to truly be consoled by the fact that she controlled this negotiation. Where were all the demons? Why wasn't anyone coming to her help? Something had to be off.

"We have something!" the woman blurted out.

"Fiona!" the man whispered sharply at her. Zara looked between them. There was clearly a disagreement there. But also an opportunity. "What're you doing?"

"I'm saving us," she returned the silent but harsh tone. Fiona turned back to Zara. "There's a safe at the end of the hallway. It contains a document that you might be interested in."

"What document?" Zara probed.

"I- I d-don't know," she answered, visibly trembling. "I only know that it was bought from the demon Crowley."

 _Okay. Sounds… relevant._

"I can give you the passcode," she offered.

"No," Zara firmly said. "You'll open it for me. Get up, both of you." She gestured with a gun for them to head towards the door. They complied. "No detours. And if either of you make a sound, both of you die."

Two guns pointed at two heads. They led her down the hallway, as promised. It certainly helped that Zara could see the roving guards before they came into view. She took them down swiftly and remorselessly, adding to the fear she saw grow in the woman's eyes. There was something empowering about it even though every instinct in her body seemed to tell her that she should feel guilty. She knew she felt bad. She didn't want to ever be in this situation again. But survival came first.

They entered the promised room. It was simple in comparison to the others, probably with the intention to mask its importance. A large safe stood against the far wall. "You," she looked at the man. "Stand in that corner." She pointed a gun at a corner on the far wall. "And you," this time addressing the lady. "Get crackin'." This way, she could keep her eye on both of them. The older man glared at her with his owl eyes. She didn't like the way he looked at her. He just gave off a bad vibe.

"Y-you're new at this, aren't you?" he inferred. Zara refused to answer, instead focusing on the woman's trembling fingers as she spun the combination lock. "You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Do you understand how dangerous it is to mess with gods?"

"I understand that if you open your cake hole again, I'm gonna empty a clip into your face," she threatened. _Jeez, where did that come from?_

A 'click' sounded. Fiona pulled open the safe door and pulled out a folder. "This… this is it," she stated as she turned around to face Zara with the document. But she also had something else in her hand. A gun. Zara's eyes widened. She reacted as naturally as an inhale, clocking the woman in the head before she could aim the gun at her. Another person down. When she looked back at the man, she noticed that he had his phone out. _I take my eyes off you for a single second…_

"Stop!" Zara yelled. He froze in his position.

"It's too late…" he shook his head. The footsteps of several people approaching dinned soon enough, ominously getting louder. "You should surr-"

 _Dead._ Zara bolted out of the room with the document, retracing her steps. To her misfortune, three men came up the stairs, intercepting her path. She aimed to shoot but as she pulled the trigger, nothing came out. _Shit. Out of ammo._ She dropped the gun but it didn't seem like they would reciprocate the gesture. Now she was truly trapped. Her feet were rooted to the spot as their guns pointed at her. Time seemed to slow down. Every millisecond was amplified with the feeling of impending death. _This is how it ends._ Yet her last fighting instinct kicked in. _Sophia help me._ She extended her palm towards them and she felt it. She felt the hawk. Her head buzzed and before she knew it, she felt its power shooting from her hand and flinging the men backwards.

Zara exhaled sharply. _It worked._ For the first time in months, it worked. She was just stunned at the boost of adrenaline it gave her. It was exhilarating. But seeing as the men were still conscious and writhing on the ground, a voice yelled inside her head to move. She picked up one of their guns and ended them. Then she cut through the room where she found Fiona and the unnamed man to reach the other hallway and proceeded back to the waiting room. Hopefully, it would be the last place the incoming henchmen would check.

She cherished the silence she found there. She returned to her seat on the couch next to the dead man, who was still laying there. Now she could breathe as noisily as she wanted. "What am I doing?" she groaned, setting down the gun and folder to just bury her face in her palms for a moment. "This is such… a mess…"

She didn't know whether she should cry or scream. She groaned audibly, muffling the sound with her hands as she shook her head like a little child. She pulled them away only to see the sticky blood stains on them. _Great. I've been looking like American Psycho this whole time._

"Oh. My. _Dad!_ " A voice exclaimed beside her. Zara shot up to her feet and faced the familiar voice.

"Lucifer," she recognised. He stood over the body of the first man she'd killed, one palm rested against his face while the other supported the elbow of that arm. Zara thought she saw glee on his face when it switched to a curious frown. His mouth made an 'O' as he studied the brutal gash on the man's neck. "I know I messed up. I'm so sorry. I'm so…"

"Messed up?" he chuckled. "I couldn't have done it better myself!" Zara frowned so deeply she felt a mild headache beginning to set in. This was _not_ the reaction she expected. He seemed… thrilled. "I saw everything. It. Was. Brilliant!"

She watched as he bellowed in laughter, almost doubling over. He was so loud that the reinforcements found them in no time, piling into the room all at once. There was a choir of guns rattling to target them which made Zara flinch. Lucifer quietened his laughter but the maniacal glee never left his face. With a wave of his fingers, clouds of black filled the room, strangling the men and breaking their bones. Within mere moments, the demons stood victorious. And then _she_ appeared – Abaddon, taking Lucifer's side. She wore a proud smile.

"I take it she's passed?" the Knight pondered.

"With flying colours," Lucifer declared. He extended both his arms to his sides, beckoning the demons to applaud. And they did. Zara felt tingles erupting on her skin. _What on earth is this?_ She repressed a shudder and took a step backwards. Lucifer noticed her apprehension and crinkled his eyebrows slightly.

"I don't get it. I- I thought th-this was supposed to be… a meet-up," Zara stammered. She looked to Abaddon for an explanation. "Where did you go? Why'd you disappear?!"

"It was my idea," Lucifer confessed, a playful glint shining in his eyes. "I was… curious what you would do."

"What?!" her chest suddenly felt so tight. "You mean… you set this up?!"

"Yes… and no," he answered. He gestured for her to come closer but seeing as she was hesitant, he decided to move to her, nonchalantly stepping on the corpse as he did so. Blood spurted out from the man's neck like a freshly-sliced lava cake. "I arranged this meeting… I got Abaddon to stand down… but all these people? Servants of Javelin? You can't make this shit up!"

Zara didn't know how to react. She only knew that she didn't like it. Only one question remained. "Why?"

"Like I said. Trust," he swaggered over to her like he was bringing the message of God. "I needed to know I could trust you. So I put you in an unfamiliar situation to see how you'd react."

"You put me in danger for an experiment," she summarised, every word quivering as it left her mouth. It almost hurt to think about it – that she'd faced all that fear, all that panic, and killed a bunch of people. For _his_ amusement. She felt used.

"You were never in any _real_ danger, Zara," his voice softened, almost to the point of sounding like he cared. Even his eyes – they looked at her the way _Nick_ looked at her. It made her feel sick. As if to rub salt in the wound, he caressed her cheek, holding her face affectionately in his palm. "We were all watching. If your life was in any serious threat, we would have intervened. But you didn't need any of that!" he broke into a pleased grin. "You were _perfect._ I'll be honest – I did _not_ expect that bit when you took hostages and defended my honour. I'm so proud of you."

Zara grimaced a little.

"You've shown me – and everyone else here – that I can trust you," he succinctly put it.

"And what about me?" she asked, her voice caught between a sob and a whisper. She felt kind of silly asking that question, which probably spoke volumes. That self-awareness ached in her heart, touching a nerve so deep that her eyes began to sting.

"I was ready to step in when you needed it the most. And I did, didn't I?" His thumb wiped away a stray tear. "This. This is what I want, Zara. I want you to believe in me. I'll never let anyone hurt you. Not really. Do you understand?"

What could she do but nod, even when the words passed right through her? Everyone was watching. The demons, with their unshakeable faith. Abaddon, with her undying loyalty. Zara, with her gratitude to him for saving her. It was expected.

"I want you to _trust_ me."

* * *

 _ **The Bunker, Lebanon, Kansas – 16 September 2012, 12.13pm**_

"Vince Vincente? Are you serious?" Zara gaped. They were all seated at the dining table, digging into lunch. Zara had even offered to cook, saying that she just 'wasn't feeling that pre-packaged stuff'. Within no time, she whipped up some eggs and grilled chicken. Sam and Dean had insisted against it at first, but once they inhaled the aroma of meat, they both quietened down, with Dean even eagerly looking over her shoulder. He savoured the fresh feel of his food. Suddenly he was much happier that she'd shown up, trustworthy or not. "That's sad…"

"I'd say hair metal lived," Dean shrugged.

"Dean," Sam berated. "A man died."

"I know, alright. Just trying to lighten things up. God forbid I have a sense of humour," Dean argued.

"Unpopular opinion, but I kinda liked Ladyheart," Zara confessed. She held her hands up in surrender as Dean shot her an incredulous look. "What? Metal comes in many forms and I find that there's something to like in all of them. Even hair metal."

"Okay but what's so good about hair metal anyway? It's just a buncha twinks with out-of-control hairspray," Dean grumbled. Zara narrowed her eyes in boredom.

"Out-of-control hairspray? The hair's the best part, my dude. And have you heard their vocal ranges? It's insane," she explained. Dean shook his head passively.

"Name _one_ hair metal band that's actually good and we'll talk," he challenged her. "Not Ladyheart. That ship's already sunk."

"Okay. There's Dokken. That's a good one. Really loved them as a teenager," she pointed out. Dean shook his head again. "Def Leppard?"

"Debatable," he responded curtly. "Don't know if that counts as hair metal."

"Van Halen," she stated. He shrugged in a half-assent. "KISS?" Again, no undeniable agreement. "Whitesnake. Come on. Everybody loves Whitesnake."

"Yeah. So? It's too pop. It doesn't count," Dean rejected.

"You're impossible," Zara accused with an amused grin. This time Sam interjected.

"But you see, Zara, Dean's the kinda guy who hugs his old Metallica vinyls to sleep," Sam teased. "If he likes it, it ain't hair metal. If he doesn't, it probably is."

"We should invent a new sub-genre, then," Zara smirked. "Dean metal."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that suggestion. "Dean metal," he repeated, huffing a smile as he cut into his meat.

"Sorry, what were we talking about again?" she asked. "Lucifer possessing Vince Vincente?"

"Yeah, so apparently Crowley had some kind of witch help him with a spell that blasted that SOB to Atlantis," Dean summarised. "Then there was that whole fiasco with the tablets." He explained that in short, the angels were in some kind of competition to find the tablets and that Raziel and Castiel became agreeable on what should happen to them.

"Since when did you become drinking buddies with Raziel?" she picked up.

"Strange, I know. But the guy's gotten us out of the mud so many times you can't help but love that Van Dyke beard," Dean explained. "He's one of the good ones."

Zara nodded attentively. _Interesting._

"Then suddenly we hear from Crowley, of all people, that Satan's back in town. We brace ourselves, trying to prepare for the worst. And then, guess what? There hasn't been so much as a Jesus-shaped nacho on the news," Dean recounted.

"You haven't heard anything?" she clarified.

"Maybe once or twice someone's said something," Dean answered. "There was that time Raz mentioned that he might have been after you. And then there was the time Crowley baited us into trapping a demon who had intel on Lucifer before he Houdini-ed with our hunt." His eyebrow jumped in cynicism as he recalled the experience. "Fun times."

"Lucifer's laying low," Sam added. "We don't know why. We don't know what he has planned. But it can't be anything good. It just doesn't make sense that he'd be so quiet the past few months."

"I don't know if 'quiet' is the word for it," Zara doubted. _It's show-time._ "With the number of demons he's been sending after me, I'd say the message is quite clear: 'Get back in Hell or get fucked'."

She sighed, shoulders tensing. "But there's one thing that's… unclear," Sam recalled. "When we first heard that he was free, he was leaving a trail of bodies. Vessel after vessel, burned out after what little time they contained him. But now… nothing. We thought we could find a way to track him using the vessels but not a single body showed up. You think he's found one for good?"

Zara steadily swallowed her mouthful. Her eyes despondently roved over the table. Now _there_ was one emotion she couldn't mask. "He always finds a way," she sombrely said. "If you really wanted to get him in your sights, it would only take a prayer from me."

"We're not using you as bait," Dean declared as a matter of fact. "We'll find another way. And until we actually figure out what he's been up to, we're sitting ducks."

The next few days were delightfully uneventful. The three of them just relaxed, with Zara taking an interest in the large bookshelves in the bunker's study. Sam pointed out some of his favourite books, paraphrasing little things he remembered from those he'd read before. Zara nodded intently, taking some of his recommendations to her room for some light reading. Sometimes they'd read together in the study, just sitting in silence with cups of coffee between them. There were so many things he wanted to ask her about everything – about the moment she realised Luc was gone, in particular. He couldn't help but feel an attachment to the kid, even though he'd only known him for a brief moment. _What exactly happened?_ he ached to know. But he realised that it probably hurt her to talk about it. It would have to take time.

She fit in with them so seamlessly that no one suspected anything. The way to Dean's heart was his stomach and Zara's cooking was such a great change of pace that he didn't even mind all that health nonsense that she spouted at times – "salmon is good for the heart", "have a fruit, Dean", "avocados are great" and more. Sam generally agreed with her and though Dean outwardly grumbled, he enjoyed his food nonetheless. Sometimes, she couldn't help but think back to the times Lucifer had mocked her for practising such things in her free time. She hadn't always been so good at cooking. _"Jee, what did that innocent cheesecake ever do to you, Zara?"_ he'd said, as she'd coughed to dispel the smoke. Soon after, she'd pulled out a distinctly discoloured abomination with a mitten-gloved hand and a disappointed scowl. _"What were you trying to do, birth a demon in a microwave?"_

Zara shook her head to get rid of the bitterness. She tried to make conversation with Kevin at times but the kid was so absorbed in his work that he only gave her short answers. So she didn't push much, though she would occasionally glance over his shoulder to glimpse his work.

Castiel was the wariest. He roamed the bunker sometimes, invisible, to watch over the humans. More importantly, he kept an eye on Zara when she was alone in her room. He stared at her for long hours while she brushed her hair, listened to music, read books and meditated. Perhaps he felt a tinge of disappointment that there was nothing out of the ordinary about her. He listened in on her conversations sometimes when she shared information about herself. She seemed so genuine that he couldn't find any reason for doubt. He wished to speak with Raziel about her, but the Keeper of Knowledge had gone on another mission with his team and was unreachable at the moment. So it would be all on him to protect Team Free Will and the angel tablet.

One day, the three of them left on a hunt together. It was their first time working a case together. People disappearing in Lenexa, Kansas. The bodies turned up in dismembered form, like some kind of sick exhibition. The cops thought it was a serial killer who drained the blood out of his victims, even naming him the Ice Truck Killer after the one in the TV show, Dexter. And indeed, the killings bore a stunning resemblance to those of the fictional serial killer. But the autopsy revealed a different story.

Zara kept her eyes on the cadaver, which had its dismembered parts sown together on the table to recreate the image of the young woman it used to be. Meanwhile, Agents Holt and Bostaph were questioning the coroner.

"The stiffness we see here points to some kind of refrigeration," the coroner pointed to various points on the skin. He seemed like a composed man, with his ivory white hair which contrasted his youthful complexion. While the Winchesters were eagerly gathering the coroner's opinion, she maintained a disinterested surveillance on the autopsy table. "And the way the cuts are so… clean… the blood had to have been drained before the body was mutilated."

"Drained?" Dean pressed with his typical double-eyebrow-raise, reserved for when a case was just a little over the threshold of 'normal' weird.

"Exsanguination," the coroner stated. "A cut made at the carotid artery to let the blood flow out. Our killer must be some kind of butcher or something because there are absolutely no visible blood stains on the skin apart from the neck, which points to gravitationally-facilitated draining. It's so clean. He's clearly an expert in this."

"So you're saying a butcher did this?" Sam inferred.

"The officers are searching every meat shop in town. They'll be on the lookout for large pools of human blood. I mean, all that blood has to go somewhere, right?" the coroner guessed, looking between the 'agents' for validation.

"No," Zara suddenly interjected, bending to get a closer look at the head region.

"No?" the coroner frowned.

"The blood wasn't drained. It was sucked," she deduced. Meeting their puzzled looks, she straightened up to elaborate further. "Look at the bruising around the neck."

"Sucked? Th- the _discolouration_ is caused by the first incision made to draw blood," the coroner explained with a tinge of befuddlement in his voice. "This region was exposed to foreign bacteria first, hence it is decomposed first."

"It's not just rot there," Zara insisted, picking up a probe to further inspect the side of the neck in question. She gently pressed the end of the probe against where the incision was said to be and its adjacent regions. "See how soft it is? Her blood leaked into the surrounding tissue and with quite some force, it looks like. There appears to be some swelling from extensive hematoma, which suggests that the blood flowed out at quite a high pressure. That has to mean something else."

"The process of draining is expected to cause some leakage," he countered with narrow eyes. "I'm sorry, miss, but I thought I was the coroner."

Dean slowly turned to her, asking her what she was doing with nothing but a look. But her doe eyes seemed to suggest a genuine concern. "I've come across my fair share of dead bodies too," she challenged. "And this does not seem very typical."

"This young woman was cut up and arranged into an effigy of sorts. There is nothing _typical_ about this case," the coroner answered with a subtle sternness. "If you'd let me do my job-"

"But-"

"Okay, thank you, Agent Pesch," Dean interjected before Zara could say anything else, not wanting to make a scene lest their fake credentials be called into question.

"Will that be all?" the medical examiner sighed. Sam uttered a quick thanks before the three of them exited.

"Is it just me or was that guy a little too pale?" Zara muttered, struggling to keep pace with the two large Winchesters.

"Okay what the hell was that?" Dean kept his voice low, but the bafflement was clear.

"That corpse has something more to it," Zara declared. "I was just helping him do his job, Dean."

"What are you, some kind of forensics expert all of a sudden?" he challenged.

"Well, I do have a Masters in Biology," she casually stated. Dean raised both his eyebrows in surprise. "I know it doesn't make me an expert but I read things too. I think he's missing something about the corpse."

"Yeah, I think so too," Sam agreed. "Did you see how the neck was cut? Everything else was cut cleanly through but the neck had some messier slices."

"Like a decoration? I mean, our Dexter fanboy does like theatrics," Dean speculated. "Hey, maybe he's adding his own twist to it. Like when you're copying homework answers and trying to make it look different."

"You did homework?" Sam teased.

Dean huffed and shook his head.

"I don't know. Maybe the cuts are hiding something. We need to look at that corpse again," Zara suggested as they all piled into the Impala.

"That'll have to wait till closing hours," Sam announced. Sure enough, the trio returned after dark. Zara had gotten a new leather jacket by then – with a hoodie, as she preferred it. The boys were intrigued by her choice of wearing a mask to obscure her jaw and nose, but respected her choice.

"Excuse me for wanting to stay out of the FBI's watch list," she'd said. A reasonable demand, they'd thought. Just as they were about to get down from the car, they spotted movement. The coroner was just leaving the building. They were close to heaving a sigh of relief. And then, a van came, out of the blue, and snatched him up. That certainly got their attention.

"The hell?" Sam puzzled.

"Guessing that's our cue," Dean stepped on it, tracking the vehicle.

It was a surprisingly short night. Turns out the three hunters had stumbled upon a bit of family drama. They followed the suspicious van all the way to the hideout – a cabin in the woods. _Of course…_ Zara internally groaned. _How original._ _Abandonment issues, starring Brian Moser as Vamp Number 1 and Dexter Morgan as the coroner. The damsel in distress would be Deborah Morgan, in this case. Reached the season finale before we could even solve the mystery._ Her bored internal rant was the background to their quick clearing out of the nest. Turns out 'Brian Moser' wasn't working alone. The whole nest shared the same sentiment towards their strayed coroner, who committed the sin of refusing to hunt innocent humans.

Syringes containing dead man's blood were emptied. Heads were sent rolling. At some point, Zara was cornered by three vampires, who were particularly faster and stronger than her. In that moment, instinct flared up and she aimed a palm at them, channelling archangel magic to send them flying away. She quickly took the opportunity to swing the archangel blade across their necks. Looking up, she met the Winchesters' awed gazes. Evidently, explanation was needed. But there was still one matter to attend to.

"Wait, wait!" the coroner explained from his seat. He'd been tied up by his own kind – they wanted to force him to feed on the blood of their newest victim. Now he was close to tears, shaken by the awful turns taken by the night. "Please! I don't hurt anyone. I… I- I feed on cattle!"

"Just doin' my job," Dean quipped before mercilessly slicing his head off. He admired the silence for a moment to catch his breath. Then he turned to Zara. "You have superpowers now?"

"You learn something new about me every day," she smiled wryly. In the dim yellow light of the cabin, the shadows of her round cheekbones were distinct. Dean didn't think he'd seen her dimples before. Then again, he hadn't seen genuine happiness on her face many times before either. "Well, it's not so new. Remember that time I accidentally whammied Cas? Before I was… you know."

"You had that thing. That uh…fancy paperweight?" Sam recalled, eyebrows furrowing to recreate the memory in his head. "Cas said it harnessed angel magic, right?"

Zara nodded, her shoulder-length hair bobbing with her head. "It's like some kind of battery. Comes in handy when I'm in a tight spot," she explained.

"So you… carry it with you everywhere?" Dean clarified. At this point, he realised there was probably no end to the mysteries surrounding this woman. But at least he would get some answers this time. They again received the affirmative nod. "Could- could we take a look?"

"Oh. About that," she began rather uncertainly. "That's gonna be a lil difficult." She parted her leather jacket to reveal the shirt she wore underneath and pointed a finger at her solar plexus. "It's kind of… in me." Then her lips contorted into a grimace. "Okay, that came out weird."

Zara promised to tell them all about it only if they were en route to a bar. After the rather quick hunt, Dean thought they deserved celebratory drinks anyway. From their seats in the front of the Impala, her strange story raised eyebrows as it did questions. Dean found himself pulling deeper and deeper frowns as the story progressed and Sam couldn't say he was any less intrigued.

"Wait," Sam paused her to get it straight. "So it… _sank_ into your chest?"

"Yup," Zara huffed, almost chuckling at their expressions. She knew it was definitely weird but to see their reactions? That was entertaining by itself. "Not what I expected either."

"Eugh. I can't imagine what that feels like," Dean commented with his eyes staring straight ahead at the road.

"At first, it kinda felt like being impaled," she said casually, which again furrowed eyebrows. "And then it just sort of… disappeared, you know? I know it's there, but I just don't feel it anymore."

"And you can't get it out?" Sam inquired, his elbow poised on the seat to face her.

"Not that I know of… unless one of you knows how to reach into my soul," she guessed. "But I guess the good thing about it is that I can control it better? Won't be accidentally hurting Cas anytime soon so that's great, right?" When she didn't get any response in return, her grin faded. Sam looked expectantly to his brother, as if anticipating what was to come. "What?"

"Hm? Nothing, it's just…" Dean glimpsed at her in the rear-view mirror. "You don't seem to be too concerned about this."

"Am I supposed to be?" Zara looked between the two brothers.

"What he means is that… from our experience, these kinds of things… usually come at a price," Sam elaborated more calmly.

"What do you mean?" Now she sat there with a face like a child getting lectured by two parents – sullen and sorry.

"We mean like…" Sam hesitated. A slice of streetlight scanned his concern-ridden face, casting ominous shadows under his cheekbones and around his eyes. "Demon blood."

"Oh," she finally understood. She took in a deep breath, having never considered the parallel before. "Oh my God. You're right. I've never thought of it like that." She averted her wide eyes, as if stunned by the realisation that using these powers could somehow be poisoning her. "See, this is why I make so many bad decisions. I don't have a rational voice in my head to tell me what's right."

She threw up her hands in angst and shook her head, 'disappointed' in herself. "Hey, calm down. We'll figure it out together, alright?" Sam reassured her. "You're not alone anymore."

"Yeah, we'll get Cas to give you a once-over, see if he can shimmy the mojo rock out of you," Dean agreed.

"That's a relief," she exhaled. _Great… another thing to worry about. Can't let Cas get it out of me._ Her thoughts were hidden under a wide cherry smile. Sam felt something change inside of him to see that – it became more obvious when her umber irises bore into his. His own mouth curved into a smile against his will and he quickly turned back to face the front, as if holding her gaze would make him think or do things he shouldn't. But he had to admit, it was nice to have her here. It was… something new.

Later, the boys waited in the hallway of their motel after dumping their soiled clothes and hunting materials. Soon enough a clanking of heels turned their heads and out she came, dressed in a really tight black dress. Her simple but obvious make-up made her look – for the first time – like someone her age. She grinned shyly at their wide-eyed looks, colour rising to her cheeks.

"You clean up nice," Dean complimented, unable to get over the fact that she actually looked kinda normal. She appeared like the kind of girl who should be getting a dead-end job, breaking men's hearts and gossiping with her best friends about the mediocre diamond on the engagement ring she'd gotten from her rich fiancé. Instead, she was here hunting vamps with them.

"Aww, you guys! I don't always have friends to look good for," she chirped excitedly, hooking her arms in both their elbows as they went off in the direction of the pub. _I don't always have friends either._

Needless to say, she was dressed a little too well for a small-town pub, not that it mattered to her. Her energy was unseemly of her companions, considering that the two boys never were so… bouncy. She'd downed a shot before the two of them could even make up their minds on what to get.

"So this must be a normal thing for you guys, huh? Roll into town, kill the bad guy and hit the bar," she began, stood between them at a round table while the Top 40 wafted in the background. It was moderately crowded for a small-town locale, which gave it a cozy feel.

"It's the only life we know," Dean nodded, sipping on a beer.

"'Nother round," Sam gestured towards the bartender. Zara sifted through her wallet to check for cash. "Hey, it's alright. It's on us."

"Come on guys, you've paid for pretty much everything since we've met," Zara refused.

"No, really. You deserve it," Dean clinked the neck of his bottle with hers. "After that CSI action? You did good, kid." For the first time, Zara thought she'd seen a proper smile on his face, full with the crinkles at his eyes. "Who else coulda pulled that off?"

"Who else but someone who was getting a PhD," Sam added, beaming.

"Really?" Dean was amazed. Sam nodded to confirm his surprise.

"Oh you guys, stop it!" she blushed, shifting her weight to lean on the table in case she giggled enough to fall over. "Enough about me. Tell me about you."

"What's there to tell? You've read 'the books'," Dean sighed. "It's basically an autopsy of our lives."

"Those were Carver Edlund's words. I want to know yours. What was it like to live on the road your whole life?" she pondered.

"Well, uh, everything changes pretty quickly," Sam replied, expressive with his hands. "Before you get settled in one place, you're off again – new town, new school, new people. It got pretty exhausting as a kid but, you know, it was the best we could do."

"Yeah, and it ain't so bad. Stick around long enough and people start asking questions," Dean chimed in. "This life… it's not so good for making friends. But at least…" his eyes followed a young blonde woman who seemed to be gazing at him from across the room. "…you get to know a lot of people."

"Uh huh," Zara noticed his line of sight. She gave him some time, taking a swig of her drink in the meantime.

"What about you? Must've been a decent home if you were gettin' a PhD," he remarked, though his mind was clearly not at the table.

"Uh… not exactly. I… ran away from home to go to college," she confessed. Both Winchesters turned heads at that.

"That sounds familiar," Dean said, briefly glancing at his brother with an intrigued twinkle in his eye. "What's your story?"

"It's… my mom," she let out a heavy sigh. "She always treated me like there was something wrong with me and… she's not wrong." Those last three words were the hardest to utter, though she managed with a voice laced with sardonicism. "I ended up filing my own applications and waiting by the mailbox to get the admission letter before she could. Fun times."

"You did what you had to do," Sam sympathised.

"Yeah, and then life comes at you fast," Zara continued in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Before I know it, I'm just in it with the both of you. Strange, huh?"

"The strangest," Dean downed his drink with his head thrown back. A satisfied exhale left his lungs. "Alright, excuse me while I uh- get at that."

He proceeded towards the girl whose eyes seemed to glimmer even from where they'd been standing. "Looks like he knows what he wants," she followed his gait with a look before turning back to Sam, who merely regarded his drink. She also noticed a couple guys who'd been staring at her like she was a meal for a while now, but paid no heed to them. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice that you were reading a book on the Italian Risorgimento earlier."

"Yeah," he tilted his head, pleasantly surprised. Those dimples made a welcome appearance too. "I'm a little bit of a history buff. And you?"

"I wouldn't say I'm a 'buff' but it interests me from time to time," she told him, stepping closer to him, if only slightly, as necessitated by the sound of people talking around them. "So tell me, what's the most interesting thing about the unification?"

"Oh, where would I begin?" Sam stroked his stubble as he searched for an answer. He seemed lost in his head as he described various things the book had to offer, namely its support of Revisionist historiography. Zara listened intently, nodding at times and resting her chin on her palms as he went on.

"Really? It says that?" she picked out.

"Uh… I'm not sure if I'm remembering this correctly. If I had the book right now, I could show you," he enthused.

"Great, let's go," she picked up her things, eliciting an amused look from him.

"You wanna go back right now?" he asked to make sure. "The night's still young."

"Come on, Sam, I'm bored. I mean, would you rather be here chugging shots or in bed with a good book?" she prompted. "Let's go back and you can tell me more about the Risorgimento. I mean, you'll have to read it to me cuz I'm too buzzed to make out words."

He huffed a smile, pleasantly taken by her decision to engage with him despite the choices she clearly had. With the number of heads she turned, she could have a field day just getting free drinks. Yet here they were, inside a motel room and sat next to each other at the window-side table. Zara had shed her jacket on the spine of a chair, leading Sam to inevitably notice the smooth curvature of her waist in the dim light of the table lamp as she did so. He gulped to dispel the thought as she settled beside him.

Sam held the book stiffly in his palms, sat up straight in a proper posture while Zara had her legs pulled up somewhat underneath her as she leaned closer to get a good look. Slightly dazed, she swayed a little as her head neared his shoulder. He noticed her position and shifted his right arm to the spine of her chair so that he wouldn't impede her view of the book. In response, she only moved closer to him. Now they were so close, almost without a gap between them. Seeing how deeply her eyebrows were furrowed in effort, Sam began reciting a paragraph and she reciprocated interest, nodding and… nodding. He couldn't tell if it was the drink or genuine interest but it was an amusing sight on its own so he let it pass.

When the time to flip a page came, Sam attempted to move his arm but halted when Zara offered to do it. Her finger clumsily dotted the page in an attempt to force it upwards and with some effort, successfully achieved her goal. Satisfied, she leaned back to her initial position but being as tipsy as she was, fell back onto Sam's shoulder. He waited to see if she'd retreat but no trial was underway for such a thing. He exhaled. Their bodies fit together naturally like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The proximity was distracting – the view of her body seemed tempting, like it awaited his very caress. The steady up-and-down of her body with her rhythmic breaths was strangely calming. When he realised that he hadn't said anything in a while, it became clear that she wasn't too bothered by it either.

He took a chance. He lowered his right hand to the small of her back. A satisfied exhale left her lips just as an enraptured inhale entered his. His left thumb fiddled the book to a close and he leaned forward slowly to set it on the table, careful not to disrupt the growing heat between them. When he leaned back into the chair, she had lifted her head up to face him, arms now wrapped around his waist. The distance between their lips, her yearning eyes that bore into his soul – it was just right. He knew for certain that there was pain underneath her irises. The kind that he could understand. Something about knowing that was magical, like an invisible bond that didn't have to be mentioned.

His jaw tightened with every millisecond from pure anticipation. Unable to bear it no longer, he sunk his lips into hers. A delighted whimper erupted from her throat as her hand grabbed the back of his head. His eager palms scrambled around her torso, tracing every inch. It seemed to tickle her, evoking little chuckles that only seemed to drive him deeper into the madness of her lust. He tugged on her waist and she gave in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull herself closer to him. Before he knew it, she was on his lap, unbuttoning his shirt while he lurched to subdue her vodka tongue.

His name was a whisper in the wind. His musk the aroma of comfort. His body a sea in which Zara drowned. With every moment, she lost herself more and more, unable to hold onto a single scaffold of her façade. The only thing Sam saw was the dance of the crucifix on her bare chest as he rammed into her over and over again, as he finally admitted to himself that he'd wanted to do that ever since he saw her haunting face again.

* * *

 _ **New York – 6 months ago**_

"Just leave me be," Zara instructed the two demons as she sat at a table in the open-air balcony. The cold air bit into her skin like a thousand piranhas but not a single care lingered in her mind. When the demons didn't move, she rolled her eyes. "Keep watch at the doors or something. Make sure no one bothers me."

Reluctantly, the demons left her eyeshot, leaving her to her solitude. She hugged her bare arms to her body as she struggled to view the cityscape clearly. Half a wine bottle later, she felt too numb to move to retrieve the coat which she'd discarded in the living room. _I'll just have to suffer silently here, then._ At least the air was crisp here, compared to the monotonous warmth of Hell. This moment was a gift to her from Lucifer, for a job well done with Javelin and retrieving the document. He'd been so elated that he directly asked her for what she wanted. He'd give her anything, he'd said. "How about that basket of kittens?" he'd asked, rubbing her shoulder as if he really cared about comforting her.

Though tempting, the afternoon of murder and near-death wasn't very conducive for being a loving parent to some innocent kittens. She humbly refused, opting instead for a night alone with the scenic view of New York City from a high floor. Frankly, she'd have felt gross about accepting a gift that she truly wanted from him. After that trauma he'd put her through, to just turn around and act as if anything could really fix that – even a basket of fluffy mewling kittens – felt physically nauseating.

The vehicles below appeared like tiny dots migrating along the road. It was truly something to see civilisation again after a long time trapped in Hell. _Some things about the human race we take for granted_ , she thought. These sky-high buildings were no exception. And the apartment she was currently in belonged to an expired collector whose precious possessions all lay hidden under blankets and spider webs. Lucifer had gotten it specially procured for her. Zara suppressed a gag at the thought. Here she was, trying to resist his attempt at charming her into submission and then he goes out of his way to secure the best spot in town for her annoyingly simple request.

"I want you to trust me," he'd said. She replayed it over and over in her mind.

"You want me to trust you, Lucifer?" she muttered out loud. She exhaled, her breath forming a white cloud, as she dragged a chair to the ledge. Throwing her head back, she swallowed the last gulp of wine in her glass. She stumbled a little in putting a foot on the seat of the chair and getting up, all while holding onto that precious glass. She stood like a conqueror, one foot triumphantly placed on the ledge while the other stood on the chair as she regarded the city. The whole city was clearer now, not just the top of the buildings but also a considerable portion of the street came into view. "Well here's me, trusting you."

She shifted her weight forward and lifted her back leg.

Zara jumped.


	70. New Person, Same Old Mistakes

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 70: New Person, Same Old Mistakes**

 _ **Motel Room, Lenexa, Kansas – 21 September 2012, 1.02am**_

Zara chuckled heartily, nestled in Sam's arms in the dark. "Really? You jumped?" she threw her head back against the pillow and laughed. Sam grinned at the sight of her widened rose lips.

"What? I was just a kid. Everyone thinks they can fly at that age," Sam rebutted playfully. "I broke my arm thinking I was Superman."

"Sounds like you had more than an arm broken," Zara teased, patting his chest where his heart was supposed to reside. She shifted in her position to better face him. "I remember when I was, what, fifteen? My idiot friend Jack tried to teach me how to ride roller blades. You gotta understand one thing about the guy. He's kind of a… daredevil. He was always good at this stuff… jumping from one place to another, skateboarding, roller-blading, parkour – you name it and he'll do it. The more dangerous the better."

"Sounds like quite the character," Sam remarked. "So did you learn?"

Zara chuckled and shook her head 'no', her eyes forming delightful upturned crescents. "He had to keep catching me to keep me from falling. He even pushed me down a ramp!" her eyes widened in a mixture of horror and amusement. "I swear I could've broken my neck. But he caught me in time, so…"

She shrugged it off. Sam rubbed her back with a hand as they shared a smile. "And where is this Jack now?" he asked.

Expression eased from her face in a slow fade, though she maintained a grin. "I don't know. Haven't seen in him in…" her eyes darted to the ceiling to do a quick calculation. "Seven years?"

"Seven years? You never tried to contact your friend again in seven years?" Sam puzzled.

"Well…" she traced circles on his chest with a finger. "When I ran away to college, I was set on leaving everything – and _everyone_ – at home behind. I haven't looked back since. I don't think I want to." The moment of sullenness lived its half-life, until Zara decided she would bear it no longer. "You and your brother… you boys ever think of a future? Like… settling down, having kids and all that?"

Sam simply huffed. "There's a saying among hunters. Uh, that there's only one way this path ends. I mean, it would be nice, if…" his eyes strayed away, carried by a thought. "… if there could be a happy ending. But work always follows us home." He briefly gulped before meeting her gaze again. "I learnt the hard way. And so did Dean."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Zara sympathised. She gingerly held his cheek in her palm and caressed it with a thumb.

"Yeah, you probably already know about my- my… girlfriend, Jess," he muttered with a reluctant sigh. "I'd just come back from a hunt with Dean and there she was… strung up on the ceiling and…"

The words were caught in his throat. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything," she whispered.

He inhaled sharply. "Woah, okay. I did not expect to talk about this. Sorry," he apologised, blinking old tears away. "What about you? Do you have any interesting exes?"

"I don't know about interesting," she sighed. "My first boyfriend broke up with me by moving to a new town."

"Ouch," Sam commented.

"Thing is, he didn't say he was splitting up with me so I guess I… held onto the hope that he'd come back some day? And then the years just went by and I finally got the clue that he probably wasn't into me," she elaborated, running a hand through her dark hair. "I never really dated much after that."

"Never?"

"What can I say, I was heartbroken and afraid of rejection. And then the apocalypse happened and you know, ended up with a child. And after that, well, I… I did have someone," she confessed. The memory left a bitter taste in her mouth but hey, if this conversation was all about reopening old wounds… "I wasn't completely alone, Sam. I wasn't always hunting. It's why I didn't call."

Her lower lip twitched, wondering if an apology would then be in order – whether it would fix anything. "Hey, it's okay. Talk to me," he urged. Zara didn't know how, but the thing he could do with his eyes where you could just tell he really cared… it made her feel more comfortable opening up. Yet, the pain ate at her from the inside.

"I… I wanted to start over again. Leave all this… archangels and apocalypse behind. When I met… _him…_ he knew I was in pain and he…" Zara's vision was swiftly flooded. She gulped to swallow the tears but it became too overwhelming too quickly. "He accepted me. We were happy together…" Sam noted her use of past tense, knowing all too well what would come after. "Then one day… it all went to shit…" He gave her a moment to collect herself amidst the sniffling and the eye-rubbing. When she spoke again, there was an agonised grit in her voice that he recognised, perhaps from his own father and brother. "That was when I decided that I wanted to hunt down every single demon who had anything to do with it."

"Zara… revenge… isn't going to bring him back," he caressed her cheek.

"I know…" she nodded, lips curving inward as if to plug any emotions that might be bottling up. "But I have to try, Sam. I have to…"

"Hey, hey…" he softly reassured her. "It's okay. I understand."

He pulled her into a hug, gently rubbing the back of her head which lay against his chest. "I've never… I've never talked about this… with anyone," her sentences were punctuated with grief-forced pauses. "But they caused me… _so_ much…" she emoted with a hand gesture. "… _agony._ I lost… more than him."

Sam's eyebrows crinkled at that sentence. "What do you mean?" he dared ask. Zara's eyes stared dead ahead, still as a statue. Her silence was eerie. The look on her face was cold – murderous, even. The tension only brought up a hundred possibilities but even Sam could not have expected her answer. Perhaps she would have known for sure if she'd let it out but the pain had balled up so tightly inside of her by this point that she only ever used it as fuel. Her anger was her strength. Anger against life, anger against people, what have you – Zara Joshi was unstoppable when she was made angry.

"Never mind, just… why are we talking about this?" she dismissed with a confused expression. "God, can't I just hold a conversation that isn't depressing for once?"

Try as he might, the thought lingered in Sam's head. He let it go for the moment so as to make the night less painful. They tried talking about trivial things this time – movies, music, history, anything that didn't have to do with tragic personal experiences. He even made her laugh again at some points. When they were too tired to talk, they both eventually drifted to sleep.

The next morning, they sat beside each other at a booth in a local diner. Zara was fixated on her breakfast while Sam surfed the net on his laptop. "You two look beat," Dean greeted them, casually stealing fries from his brother's plate as he slid opposite them. "Rough night?"

"Yeah, _rough_ ," Zara confirmed with a sly smile, eliciting a strange look from Sam. "You seem chipper."

"Yoga instructor," he shot them a goofy grin which Zara couldn't help but share. "She could bend in all the right ways-"

"Okay, thank you. For that exposition," Sam interrupted him. "Guys, check this out. More bodies turning up in Missouri."

He turned the laptop around so that Dean and Zara could read it. "Wait… this sounds a lot like…" Dean began.

"Rakshasa," Zara exhaled. Frowns were exchanged around the table.

"Same MO, same pattern of victims. Even the forensic reports look similar," Sam told them. "And again, in a town visited by… you guessed it – Brides in White."

"We did… burn the body, right? Isn't that supposed to be a one-way ticket to monster paradise?" Zara spoke their minds.

"Unless… Rockstar Jones wasn't working alone," Dean surmised. "There were two of them. At least."

"Great," Zara leaned back into her seat.

"That would explain why that third victim didn't follow the pattern," Sam mused. "She wasn't a vulnerable, insecure fangirl, right?"

"Guess we shoulda seen it comin', then," Dean sighed, stress-clearing Sam's plate. "We have to finish the job."

"Agreed. I looked at the band's tour dates and their next gig is in three days in Jefferson City," Sam added with a pensive look that the other two immediately took notice of.

"But?" Zara asked before Dean could.

"But… they're performing in a huge music festival. Which means they'll be surrounded by security and other bands, not to mention a crowd," he informed them.

"Fertile hunting ground for our creep," Dean remarked.

"Then we should step on it," Zara concluded, sharing resolute nods with the hunters.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

A lone wine glass shattered on a street in New York City, terrifying clueless passers-by with its sudden impact. What no one noticed, however, was the swift rush of wind generated overhead – powerful enough that it could have only been caused by the flapping of an archangel's wings.

The darkness was familiar. And so was the sulfurous warmth. It was the ether in which demons were made. Yet, it represented the only impossibility for her. Sprawling naked on the invisible floor with nothing but dread shaking her every muscle with the strength of an 8.0 on the Richter scale but what was left but a morbid nonchalance? This would just be another limit to be pushed. Another wall breached. Another trophy moment in the saga that was Zara's life.

"Feels like just yesterday we were in this exact same position," Lucifer's voice boomed. "Hm." He held up the whip with the barbed wires, picking off small specks of red crust. "Still has your blood on it."

Zara kept her eyes lowered, not daring to even glance in his direction.

"Come on, no smart-ass remark?" he knelt down to her level but she averted her head. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her to face him. "Go on, say something." Her lips trembled but her teeth ground together in a defiant silence. "I said… _speak,_ " he hissed, winter breath cutting her cheek like a knife. He could have given her a frostbite at that rate. "Tell me why you did it."

"I…" she panted heavily. There was something about being terrified of death yet yearning for it that seemed to encapsulate all the highlights of her life, she thought. It all became so clear now in the Devil's grasp. It was something that she'd tried to hide for so long – a feeling so pure that it seemed impossible to exist without it. All her life, she'd tried to shout it out loud even when no one listened. But now _he_ was, and she could utter it. "I… don't… care… about… anything…"

Lucifer let her go stiffly, leaving her to cower in his presence as she pressed her head against the ground. His face was riddled with disappointment and fury amalgamated into one, in the way the steady up-and-down of his shoulders reflected a strained effort to control a blizzard of his making. "You know, I tried, Zara," he spat out bitterly. "I tried to play nice. For Sophia. She clearly favours you, for some reason. But you…" the whip came crashing down faster than she could blink. Equally swift was the peeling away of the barbs from beneath her skin. "Won't…" Another swing. "Play…" Again. "Ball!"

The utterances were so quick that the speed of sound was breached, adding the deafening noise to the sources of agony. If there ever was a pain so great that no human sound could describe it, Zara was feeling it – barely a whimper escaped her vocal chords after the first sting. It was all happening too fast. Her body trembled and twitched in an attempt to escape the searing pain to no avail. On top of that, feeling the blood leaking down her sides was a nightmare in itself.

Lucifer simply watched the long tendrils of her hair stick messily to her back like a shredded curtain hiding rotten meat. The blood just pooled from underneath, sucking the strands into their flooding grasp, bathing her in the fluid of life. Despite every voice telling him to rip her flesh asunder and craft a sword from her bones, he saw something in her soul that gave him pause. A mark made in a cosmic language, denoting what belonged to him. A mark that would inevitably resist his push to a grim consequence. In a way, this dictum in her soul spoke a message to him – that he could push all he wanted, but the result would be dire. That realisation made all the difference to him.

A controlled exhale departed his lungs. He dropped the whip and knelt down to her level again. Zara felt a palm against the back of her head and braced for impact, made a shivering mess by sheer anticipation. But the touch remained where it was, firm and caressing. "You remind me of Lilith," his familiar voice fought through the blaring sirens of pain into her consciousness. "So much… potential. So much to transform."

Breaths sputtered out of her chest noisily as Zara let out the tension that built up in her core in sharp whimpers. She heaved and groaned, bawling like a child. Stripped and naked, there was no room for hiding anything. It would have been impossible even if she'd tried.

"Is life so frivolous to you?" he whispered in her ear. "Then so be it."

A loud ringing noise blared around her. She dared widen her eyes to figure out what was going on but a pure, warm light flooded her vision, forcing them shut. It was nothing short of a nuclear blast of energy that singed every inch of her skin. Though no pain was immediately apparent, the suddenness of it all was so overwhelming – the immediate and absolute loss of sensation almost to the point of nothingness. Zara tried to scream, to curl up into a ball, but no action followed her thoughts. It was strange, like being trapped in a dimension with no body and only left with the sense of self, though that too seemed to be caught in the storm of energy. It felt like every atom in her body was being torn apart and put back together in a whirlwind of celestial fire.

 _W-what's happening to me? Make it stop! Please…_

Unspoken. Unheard.

And then, nothingness.

Zara awoke with a gasp, heaving for breaths. She shot up to a sitting position, her hands scrambling to verify her physical integrity. Intact – no wounds. And there were clothes. The lighting was so incredibly dim that she thought Lucifer had left her in that dark space but something was inherently different about this setting. For one, her palms found rock solid ground underneath. And soon, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A directionless red light breezed about in a cloud-like fashion. As she stood up, the background noise became more obvious too – absolute nothingness. Just a distant, industrial rumble. It could be machines, it could be the wind, she couldn't be sure. It was eerie.

"Hello…?" she weakly mumbled into the open. Now that she could see clearer, she found herself standing in a thick fog. The air was clouds and the unclear sky was a deep red. This was definitely somewhere in Hell. But where? Which way to go? There was barely any visibility, let alone any distinguishable landmark. "Lucifer?" she called out shakily. A slight shiver caressed her back and shoulders, forcing her into a closed, arm-rubbing posture. "What do you want from me? I'm- I'm sorry, okay? You said I had to trust you so I… I tested your claim. Maybe you- you didn't like that. B-but I… I'm really suffering, okay? I can't…" The heaviness in her chest proved a great resistance but the words fought their way out anyway. "I can't deal with any more _trials_. I just want it all to end. End my pain, please," she begged, short of falling on her knees.

Still, there was nothing. The fog only grew thicker and colder. A single snarl sounded to her right. It sounded like some kind of dog. Her senses sharpened but she couldn't see anything. Her wavering imagination had no choice but to envision some kind of sharp-toothed creature hungry for its next kill. What was worse than being alone in some unnamed region of Hell was being _not_ alone in some unnamed region of Hell. Forced by circumstance, Zara ventured forward with uncertain steps.

* * *

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 12.10pm**_

The city was bustling with life. It was such a change of pace from the smaller towns they'd passed on the way. Maybe it just felt good to be around people, leeching off their sense of normalcy and general happiness as a substitute for one's own. Zara walked purposefully, naturally finding herself between the Winchesters as the three marched down the street in the direction of their target – a common park where all the tour buses were stationed. It seemed that they'd come at a time when bands of a diverse range of popularities had gathered in this one city for a grand music festival. There were lesser-known bands, perhaps performing for the first time, and there were some better-known bands as well. But mainly it was a rock and metal festival, which meant it was right up their alley. Maybe it would be nice to stick around for some of the performances later, that is, if the whole thing wasn't going to be shut down by a Rakshasa hunt. Places like these tended to have high security so finding their guy was going to be tough.

These concerns occupied the trio as they proceeded briskly past some coffee shops and retail stores. Zara, dressed in her new leather jacket which hid her blade, and the boys, dressed in their fancy FBI suits. Watching all of this from a corner across the street was the prodigal son – the boy with red eyes like his father's and golden wings like his mother's. He was practically jumping in excitement. This would be his moment. His chance. There would be no opportunity more perfect than this. He sharply turned to face the glass window of the retail shop to his left, inspecting his own reflection. He adjusted his own leather jacket and ran his fingers through his long, dark hair, which reached down to his elbows.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," he told himself, nodding to boost his own confidence. "Just go up to her," he whispered to his own reflection. "'Zara, I love you man.' No…" he shook his head, casting himself a grimace. "Don't be weird, idiot. Act normal. 'Zara, I've missed you.'"

He sighed. His Winchester-hazel eyes judged himself too harshly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the perfect words to say. He glanced over to where he'd spotted her. They were walking away so quickly. He was losing time. It was now or never. He flew over to an alley they were coming up towards.

"We should split up when we get there," Dean suggested.

"Right," Zara agreed. "You guys find which tour bus is theirs and I'll try to scope out the area for- JESUS!"

She walked straight into a large pillar of a man. Zara's words were caught in her throat as her eyes met his. "I don't think you'll be able to find _him,_ wherever you're going," he suavely answered, bubble-gum lips curving into a goofy grin. Sam and Dean expected they'd be on their way, but soon took notice of Zara's shocked silence. "Heya Zara."

She simply gaped, brown irises burning into him. "Jack?!" she recognised. The brothers exchanged bewildered glances, equally weirded out by Zara's peculiar long-haired friend. But she was perhaps the most stunned of them all, feeling a great whirlwind of emotions that she just wasn't ready to deal with.

"You remember me? Of course, I'm _unforgettable_ ," he shrugged his shoulders proudly, hands dug into his pockets. He didn't quite expect that raised-eyebrow frown on her face. He thought she'd be happier to see him. And then she just brushed past him and carried on walking. The Winchesters, dazed at first, followed suit though the curiosity remained about what the hell was going on. 'Jack' rushed to catch up, walking backwards in front of her. "Woah, woah, where are you going?"

"I'm busy," she simply said, avoiding his gaze.

"So busy you can't catch up with an old friend?" he projected a slightly-pained look, which he swore normally worked.

"Yes," she snapped at him. "How'd you find me anyway? Have you been stalking me?" she accused.

"What can I say? Maybe I'm your _guardian angel_ ," he extended both his arms to his sides in a pose, shooting her the most charming grin he could summon.

"That's not funny," she dismissed.

 _Man, she doesn't let up!_ "Nice haircut," he complimented in hopes of winning her favour. "But I liked it better when it was longer."

"Cry me a river," she rudely brushed him off again. This time, she increased her pace in an effort to make it past him.

"Zara, stop," he halted abruptly in front of her, blocking her path. Without a choice, she glared at him. She stepped to the left to evade him but he moved in step. She stepped to the right, but he matched her movement again.

"What do you want?" she finally asked through a clenched jaw, vexed.

"I just want to talk. Hasn't it been a long time? It's been like, what, seven years? I missed you, man," he confessed with the sincerest look. "And then I just happen to _bump into_ you here. Isn't that great?"

Zara wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face. "Just peachy," she said dryly. "But like I said, I'm busy. So leave me alone."

Again she stormed off past him. He turned to follow but Sam stopped him. "Back off, pal," he calmly asserted. "She's not interested." Jack narrowed his eyes at Sam – they were almost at eye-level, though Jack was a little shorter – but didn't provoke him. Instead, he despondently stared at the sight of them walking away, questioning his life decisions. But he didn't want to give up. Not just yet.

Just as he was about to be the most annoying long-lost friend ever, a large, warm ball of energy seemed to approach him. He turned around to confront his visitor. People froze mid-gait. The clouds stopped moving. The earth stopped spinning. There, in front of a car frozen in its tracks, stood Chuck, dressed in fairly regular clothes. Jack sauntered onto the road to face Him.

"Gran," he recognised with a shock he'd just seen on Zara's face, though with much more relief than her.

"Luciel," God greeted His grandson with a compassionate gaze.

"The last I saw you… you- a version of you… was hanging from a cross. You uh- you didn't look too hot," he remarked sympathetically.

"We learn more from suffering than pleasure," Chuck responded, ancient wisdom resonating from him in waves. "You could be the wisest of us all."

"I'd gladly concede such a title for as little as a mote of dust," he sarcastically answered, extending his arms to the side again, as he did when he had something snarky to say. He folded his arms, not knowing what else to do with them. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I came to ask you the same question," Chuck held his gaze expectantly. "I thought I told you to lay low."

"I am… I have," he tilted his head in askance.

"Then why are you going after her, son?" He inquired in the most sympathetic voice possible.

"Why…" Jack trailed off, huffing as if the question was ridiculous. "You _really_ want to know?" Chuck nodded, worry brimming in his grey eyes. The archangel smirked sardonically, resisting every urge to sound bitter. "I've been a _ghost_ all my life. I don't even…" his hazel eyes burned onto a spot in the ground as his jaw tightened to utter his heart's message. "I don't even exist. And the only person who even says _my name_ anymore is right fuckin' there and she doesn't even see me!" He exhaled, feeling his chest tighten uncomfortably from that confession. "Do you know what that's like? Waiting for thousands of years just to hear someone say your name? Your _real_ name?"

"Luc…" Chuck sighed in an attempt to console him.

"And you know, that isn't even the worst part. I…" he paused, licking his lips nervously. He shook his head to deny himself the relief of confession, instead running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. I'm… tired."

"I understand that it's difficult for you to see all of this. To… hear her prayers to you every night," God sympathised. "But I only ask you to be patient. You only have to wait a while longer."

"How long?" Jack demanded with a choked voice, looking to his grandfather for reassurance. "Death keeps telling me the same thing. And I've been waiting for… forever! Now my mom's in some other dimension, running around and looking for me in all the wrong places. Who knows if she'll ever come back?!"

"She will," Chuck promised.

"Please. Even you don't know that," he muttered with cynically-narrowed eyes. "With that madman in-charge there, you have no idea what's gonna happen. Don't I know…"

"The time _will_ come. I don't know when, but I feel it approaching," He stated. God peeked into the sands of time, piercing through the veil of existence with a single thought. He saw the things that needed to happen, all a flurry of images but none making any concrete sense – as was normally the case with these matters. "It's important to have faith sometimes."

"Yeah, I know…" he rubbed the back of his head. His sharp chin pointed downwards in thought as he took a sudden interest in his sneakers. "I do… have faith. I just- I just don't think I want to be alone anymore, you know?"

Jack had been staring at the ground for too long when he felt a palm rest against his upper arm. He found the comfort of Chuck's optimistic tranquillity when he looked up again. "Be careful not to scare her," He advised. "She's been through a lot."

"Wait, really? You're not gonna stop me?" Jack's crestfallen expression slowly faded towards hope.

"Is anyone actually capable of stopping _you_ , Stormbringer?" Chuck answered. His bearded lips turned up on one side as He regarded His beloved grandson. The boy returned the smile. He felt nothing but love for the deity standing before him, like an ocean of warmth exploding within his core. Few people ever had that effect on him. "Besides, you must know by now that I don't interfere in matters of creation. Doing so only raises questions. Questions which we don't want certain _people_ asking, remember?"

"Right," Jack nodded in obedience, pushing away his doubts to the back of his mind.

"You are responsible for your own actions and their consequences are yours to deal with. So be careful," Chuck added.

The young archangel's eyes contorted with love and he spared no hesitation in wrapping his arms around the smaller frame of Chuck's vessel. "I will," he vowed. He never wanted to let go but he did so anyway, albeit reluctantly. "How have you been anyway? I never get to see you."

"I'm… I'm good," Chuck nodded. "Been writing, publishing. Going to fan conventions."

"Wait, it's you writing those Supernatural books, isn't it?" Jack cracked a wide grin, giving Him a short confident nod. "I knew it! I can't believe no one's figured it out yet."

"Few people are as sharp as you," He remarked. "But yes, it's kept me occupied."

"Cool. Do you… need any help? I mean I'm getting some momentum with my current… you know," he gestured with his head to his general surroundings. "I could help promote your books."

God chuckled heartily. "That won't be necessary, son, but I appreciate the offer," He simply said. "Till we meet again, Jack."

He caressed Jack's cheek while His grandson's lips widened into a smile that had the radiance of a thousand suns. "Thank you… for everything," Jack whispered, feeling peace flow over him in waves. God's luminescence enveloped the world and he simply bathed in it, eyes closed. When the light faded away, the noise of life came back to consciousness and Luc found himself standing alone in the middle of the road, invisible.

* * *

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 12.25pm**_

"So who's Type O Negative back there?" Dean asked after they turned the corner. They carried on at a brisk pace, unhindered by the strange encounter.

"Jack," Sam ruminated. Zara's agitated reaction seemed like a cause for concern. "He's the one you told me about, right?"

"Yeah," Zara grumbled. "Speak of the Devil. Just my luck, isn't it?"

"I thought you liked him?" Sam questioned.

"I do. That's why I'm cutting him out of my life," Zara simply answered, though her reasons were far more complex than she let on – much like other things she told them. She seemed rather determined. "How many times have people we cared about gotten hurt? He should stay as far away from me as possible."

Both of Dean's eyebrows did a little jump in surprise. Even he wouldn't go as far as she had. It certainly couldn't hurt to spend a few minutes to just _talk_. But if this was what she wanted, he couldn't really blame her.

"Mind if we take a little detour? If I know Jack, he'll try to follow us. That _creep_ ," she cursed.

"Uh, sure," Sam acceded after receiving Dean's passive shrug. Zara took a right turn to cut through an alley, fishing out her phone to GPS her way towards their destination.

"Wait a minute. Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" Dean finally asked when they seemed to be going around in circles.

" _Crap._ I don't know," Zara rotated her phone in various angles to get her bearings right. Her shoulders were tense, thoroughly put off by that one face that brought up old feelings she struggled for so long to put away. "I think we need to take a left here."

"Zara, that's a dead end," Sam told her. The three of them stopped where they stood, looking around themselves for some clue as to where they were. To the left, where Zara had guessed they needed to go, was a short alley at the end of which was a sealed wall. To be fair, they did need to go in that direction but there was simply no access there. To the right was a longer path towards a main road but that would mean they'd have to walk around the block. Along the way were wired fences connecting buildings, the lack of any of which could have made their journey easier.

"What was it the both of you said? 'Oh, it's not that far. Let's just walk!'," Dean mocked. "'Walking's healthier than driving,' they said."

What made it worse for him was the fact that they completely stood out in the way they dressed. One or two homeless men took notice of them while warming up their hands against barrel fires. "Sorry," Zara grimaced. "I think we'll have to take a right and walk around. Unless you gents are fine with vaulting up that wall. That is, if you aren't gonna pull a muscle or anything."

She dryly glimpsed in Dean's direction, to which he immediately took offence. "Oh, that's how you wanna play it, huh?" he challenged. Zara simply shrugged. The elder Winchester defiantly stormed off to the left.

"Dude, I was just kidding. You don't actually have to climb up the wall," Zara called out after him. Seeing as Dean wasn't stopping, the two of them hurried after him.

"Yeah? I'd like to see you make it up there, short-stacks," Dean jibed. They stood before the cement wall, which towered about three feet above Dean's head. _Just three feet and we'll be closer to douche-bag breeding ground,_ he thought resolutely.

"Like rats trapped in a corner," someone smirked behind them. The hunters spun to face the voice. Malicious smiles, attached to the bodies of the two homeless men they'd seen earlier, stared back at them with a black abyss they called eyes. The one who spoke had a full beard and a dirt-crusted face, like he just couldn't be bothered to give his vessel a wash. The other one had a hoodie pulled over a beanie.

"Demons," Sam uttered, mind racing to figure out the best route of escape. And they weren't alone. Behind them stood two more with equally-sinister grins.

"Well well, if it isn't Huey, Dewey and Louie," Hoodie comically announced.

"Always nice to meet a fan," Dean snarked. He dug a hand into his coat to pull out the classic demon-killing knife. "But show's over."

The two demons behind were ready to pounce forward and rip them apart, but Beard-Face stopped them. "Woah, woah, hold on fellas. Let's be civil about this," he urged his brethren. "Let me lay it down for you, Winchester. You, we don't care about. You're old news. But the Skirt's still worth something," Beard-Face stated. "Hand her over and we'll get out of your way."

"Fat chance, chuckles," Dean growled. Zara sized them up confidently, gripping the archangel blade firmly in her palm. Sam too was armed with an angel blade and it didn't seem like the three of them were going to give up anytime soon.

"This isn't going to end well for you," Hoodie decided, eyes cynical but smile amused. "It's four against three."

"Make that four," another voice sounded behind them. The tall, lanky figure of Jack appeared calm amidst the confrontation. His almond eyes pointed at the demons like arrows as the hazel orbs migrated to their pointed edge.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Zara exclaimed. Immediately the situation flustered her about ten times more. Her best friend of time long gone was now in a ten-foot radius of not one, but _four_ demons. "Go. Away!"

But unbeknownst to her, the demons had an entirely different set of concerns. One charged at him with an angel blade. He caught the demon's forearm with one hand and grabbed his neck with another. As easily as an exhale, the angelic energy exploded in his palm, burning the demon out through the eyes. In a simple motion, his fingers retracted their grip, leaving the body to drop passively. Before anyone could react, he pointed a palm at Hoodie and blasted him away. The demon was flung back against the wall and knocked unconscious. The other two simply exchanged a shocked look and smoked out immediately, leaving their vessels to drop to the ground. Amidst the skirmish, the trio simply looked on, mouths agape at the spectacle unravelling before them. Until Jack dusted himself off and faced them, eyeing Zara with a solemnness she rarely knew him to have.

"Like I said, I'm your guardian angel," Jack paused in front of them. "We need to talk."

Zara was absolutely flabbergasted. She had nothing to say. In one moment, everything she'd known all her life to be true crumbled at her feet. "What. The hell. Is going on…" she stuttered, blinking rapidly.

"I'll explain everything. But first…" he turned to look at the unconscious demon. "We should interrogate him."

"What for?" Sam lowered his angel blade, though holding it still in case things went sideways. That sudden revelation raised alarm bells in his head. _Jack's an angel?_

"Are you kidding? His friend just said they want Zara for something. Don't you wanna know what?" Jack puzzled. He looked between the Winchesters momentarily before assuming the role of making things happen. All they heard was a flutter of wings and within a second, he vanished. Zara flinched at the sight. Then a door to their side opened up and he came out of it. "I trapped him inside," he pointed behind himself with a thumb. They glanced over his shoulder to confirm the claim, finding the demon tied to a chair inside a Devil's trap in the building. He slid his leg backwards to shut the door behind him as they watched his unseemly demeanour. Nothing about him seemed to make sense. The situation had shifted so dramatically that none of them knew what to make of him. But he just gave them a courteous smile and awaited a response, excitedly tipping on his toes. There was only silence. "What?"

"Who the hell are you?" Zara snarled, pointing her blade at him. His smile faded but he didn't seem upset or threatened. The look he had was best described as… sympathy.

"It's me… Jack," he insisted, attempting to hold her gaze. He tried to find the woman he knew and loved in her eyes but only found her accusative glare.

"Have you _always_ been an angel?!" she finally enunciated one of many questions. Secretly, she hoped that this wasn't what it appeared. But she would be wrong.

"Yep," he admitted. "I've been watching over you from the moment you were born. It was my job. I had to keep you safe, because, you know…"

"The apocalypse," Sam finished his sentence. "True vessels were supposed to be protected."

"Yep," Jack confirmed with a sigh. "Can you put the sword down now?"

"That's impossible," Zara denied, still staring daggers at him like he was an enemy. "No one knew I was meant to be Sophia's vessel."

"That's true. No angel, no demon knew it was you. Except me," Jack answered. "God Himself gave me the order. He made me your guardian. And boy, you gave me a run for my money!" He shifted his weight as he let out a short chuckle, despite the fact that no one else seemed to be sharing in his humour. "Come on, say something."

As Sam looked over to Zara, he could see a mountain of words begging to erupt from her core. This must be a personal matter for her, he thought. "Maybe Dean and I should question the demon," he suggested, expectantly beckoning his brother to follow with a look.

"No, I wanna hear this," Dean simply said. He shared Zara's frown. If it had to do with angels and demons, it was his job. And honestly, he was curious about how someone could possibly expect trust after revealing that they'd been lying to someone about their identity for so long.

"You were the _one good thing_ I remembered about my home. And you mean to tell me… that everything has been a lie?!" she spat out through a tight jaw.

"Not everything," Jack pouted like an upset toddler. "Our friendship wasn't a lie."

"Oh, stop," Zara shook her head, rubbing her temple with two fingers.

"I mean it," Jack took a step toward her to place an arm on her shoulder but she held up the sword in front of herself, stopping him. "Okay, look. I… wasn't supposed to get involved, alright?" His unfittingly cotton-soft eyes sought an ounce of belief from his audience of three. "The order was to watch you from afar. Make sure nothing bad happened to you. But I couldn't just stand by and watch you make bad decision after bad decision. I mean, dude, you dated your drug dealer." Dean couldn't resist an astounded look at the girl standing next to him. "So I… came up to you one day in hopes of keeping an eye on you from up-close. As a friend. Like…" he huffed into a smirk. "I'm Drop Dead Fred, and you're Lizzie."

Jack's eyes wandered upwards and then, were suddenly caught by a peculiar sight at a window above them. He peered at what appeared to be a tiny monkey staring at them with an innocent curiosity. _Hm. Strange._

What he said didn't ease the hurt Zara felt. If anything, she only felt more conflicted. "Wait a second," she hissed, snapping his attention back to her. Her frown deepened as dots connected in her head. "Did you have something to do with Ricky going missing? Did you _kill_ my boyfriend and make it look like he skipped town?!"

"No! No, I didn't kill anyone. I swear," Jack rushed to defend, putting his hands up in surrender. His mouth hesitantly widened to find the right words but it dawned on him that the truth wouldn't sound so good either. "I just… persuaded him to leave without telling you. With my fists."

Zara's lips pursed as she exhaled sharply. She put away the blade but her anger could have proven a far deadlier weapon. "Do you know what that did to me? Do you know how much… that _hurt_ me?" She folded her arms, struggling to control her temper.

"Yeah? He was bad news. And I'd rather you have a broken heart than…" Jack tried to reciprocate her impatience but found himself getting emotional instead. "He got you hooked on the hard stuff, you remember that? Do you remember that time you overdosed on crack and almost died, Zara?" he scoffed, accusatively pointing a finger. "Well I got news for you. You _did_ die. And I resurrected you. You don't get to talk about hurt when you made me watch that."

"Oh, you're hurt now, are you?" Zara sceptically huffed.

"Uh. Yeah," his eyes darted from side to side and the bridge of his nose crinkled a bit in confusion as he nodded. His silky-long hair bobbed with his head, the shorter tendrils nearer to the centre parting bouncing more around the square forehead they framed so neatly. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

A collective repressed groan seemed to befall them as Zara seriously evaluated whether she wanted to continue this conversation. If it was anyone else, she would have stabbed them right then and there. But she didn't, for the sake of the good times she'd associated with his face.

"Because your kind aren't _known_ for having emotions," Sam elaborated. "So excuse our scepticism."

"My _kind_? First of all, that's racist," Jack held up an index finger while his other hand rested on his hip. "Second, aren't you listening to me? I kept you safe for so many years. I don't want to harm you," he proclaimed with a pained expression. "I only want you to be safe and happy." That only put Zara off even more. She sighed and looked to the heavens before dejectedly shaking her head. "Wha- Zara, come on. What's the matter?"

Zara shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. "Nothing, just…" she mumbled. "You're so full of yourself that you don't even see it."

Jack recoiled, baffled by her bold statement. "I think what she means is…" Dean interjected this time. "If you were supposed to keep her safe, then what rock you been hiding under the past two years?"

"Yeah," Zara agreed.

"Why didn't you show your face during the apocalypse?" Sam supplemented. "We could have used more help."

"It wasn't my place to intervene," he answered with the sincerest discomposure that fidgeted his shoulders. "God forbade me."

"Oh, _God forbade you_ ," Zara spat his words back at him. "You expect me to buy anything you're saying when you were absent at times I needed you the most?"

"There are things you don't understand," Jack's words were sharp, desperate to convey a message he couldn't speak explicitly. "But I'm here now, because I wanna help."

"Yeah? Well it's too little too late," she snapped. "Where were you when Lucifer tortured me into submission? Where were you when the demons hunted me down?" Her voice grew more agitated, pouring out the pain seared into her memory. "Where were you when-" she gulped to speak the harshest memory, her next sentence soft in volume but sharp in tone. "Where were you when they took Luc away from me?"

That sentence was like a spear through the heart. Jack's eyes stung immediately. As much as he'd tried to hold it together this whole time, his demeanour was soon unravelling. The look of absolute agony on his face pierced her the most, despite his genuineness seeming inappropriate. "I was there…" he stuttered, voice choking. "You- you just didn't know it." A yearning for comfort thudded in his chest – it was the very purpose of his finding them that day. "Do you really think I could have done anything to stop that?"

A connection forged the highway between their eyes. Finally, the impossible barrier to her heart appeared to be receding. For the sake of the friendship they once shared, she wanted to relent. Yet, a single hurdle in her life remained. A certain… blond Devil. Before she could say any defining words, a muffled cry sounded from behind the door. "Hey! Let me out of here!" the demon yelled out.

This time Sam didn't wait for Dean's assent. He went on forward into the building and his brother followed. Zara and Jack looked at each other – Zara with uncertainty and Jack with a longing. When she couldn't take it anymore, she brushed past him into the building.

The four of them stood inside the empty area, lit only by light filtering in through the windows. Dust motes floated about in the rays of light. The air was stale. The Winchesters stood imposingly before the demon, who regarded them with nothing but absolute abhorrence. "What do you ladies want?" the demon spat out.

"Why don't you start by telling us what you want her for?" Sam began.

"What do _you_ want her for, Sam?" the demon rebutted. "She spread her legs wide enough for you?"

"Hey!" Jack growled from behind them. "Don't make me carve a pussy out of you, bitch-boy."

Dean's head craned slowly to Zara and she gave him a small shrug like she wasn't surprised to hear words of such calibre from his mouth.

"I'm not afraid of you, Feathers," the demon leered. "You taking turns with 'im? Can't blame you. Word around the block's that everyone wants a ride on Lucifer's whore."

Jack seethed, placing a foot forward and ready to have a go at the demon. But Zara stopped him with a hand on his leather-bound arm. Instead, she found herself nearing the demon. "You people have been trying to kill me for months. What gives?" she demanded of the creature with folded arms.

The demon gave her a bored look. "We're throwing a demons-only party and you're the entertainment," he remarked snidely. "Hope you're taking requests."

Zara looked down at her feet, ominously observing the red line separating her and the demon – the border enclosing the Devil's trap. She pulled her shoulders back, entering a persona she reserved for moments like this. Her right boot transgressed the border. "Zara," Dean muttered to question her.

"I got this," her face was like a stone wall of emotions. She put another foot forward to get closer.

"Some of our boys haven't seen a woman in centuries, you know?" the demon continued with a dastardly smile. "Some of them just wanna put it in the same hole that Lucifer did."

Zara reached into her jacket and pulled out the archangel blade, holding it like a lash ready to be swung. Upon seeing it, the demon's eyes faltered a little, betraying an inevitable sense of vulnerability though his gritted teeth showed resistance. "What do you want with me?" she asked again.

"Isn't it obvious? There's a price on your head," the demon answered bitterly. "You're expensive goods and everybody wants to cash it in."

"Who do you work for?" she asked next. "Can't be Lucifer. His demons aren't as sloppy as you."

"Oh I'm sorry, we can't all be part of the _elite_ task force, you spoilt little whore," he derided. In a swift move, Zara drove the blade into his right knee, evoking fiery sparks from the spot. The demon's hoarse cries rang in her ear like a symphony. Sam and Dean, though slightly unnerved at her readiness to torture, understood it as a necessity. But Jack, on the other hand, felt a bitter taste grow in his mouth at the sight.

"And what kind of person do you think becomes Lucifer's whore?" she whispered to the demon. She strengthened her grip on the hilt, twisting it on the spot. The demon's head arched back as forced grunts shot their way up his core and out of his mouth. "Give me a name!"

"Crowley!" Hoodie finally yelled, heaving for breath. "Make it stop. Please…"

"What does _he_ want?" Dean chimed in, breaking the silent triangle. Despite the disturbing reality of the scene before him, Jack's gaze was caught again by a curious sight. At the far end of the room, he thought he spotted another one of those tiny monkeys. It's flaming orange irises watched the episode with an awed curiosity that he couldn't dismiss. But it's tiny stature and vantage point atop a dusty shelf in a dark corner ensured that no one else took notice of its presence.

"There's… there's a deal going down," he huffed and puffed, still reeling from the pain. "The client wants her."

"Why? Who's the client?" Dean continued. When the demon hesitated, Zara yanked the blade out sharply.

"I don't know. I don't know!" he protested. "I swear!"

"Where and when?" Zara simply asked.

"There's a run-down hospital on the east side of town," he groaned. "Crowley's set up base there. The deal's supposed to go down as soon as he gets you."

The little monkey in the corner waddled away in Jack's periphery.

Zara eased up. A coldness eclipsed her face as she rested the tip of the blade against the demon's throat.

"End it quick, please…" he begged.

She watched him like she would a mosquito before swatting it. A slight pressure bore an incision on the demon's skin, eliciting a wince. He expected the end to come, but instead she dragged the blade down his chest, ripping open his demonic form. Jack watched, unamused. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but clearly this wasn't the time. Finally, she let up, plunging her weapon into his chest and ending the interrogation.

"What're we thinking? We gonna pay Crowley a little visit?" Dean thought out loud.

"I've been aching to ice that sonuvabitch for so long," Zara voiced after wiping her bloodied blade on the dead demon's clothes.

"You can't just hand yourself over to him on a silver platter," Sam argued. "That's what he wants. We're gonna have to play this smoothly. He's clearly trying to get eyes on you."

"Yeah, I say we try to stay as low as possible," Dean suggested. "We got enough things on our hands right now. We don't need to tango with Crowley."

"Guys," Zara beckoned them with her eyes. "We won't get a better opportunity than this. We _know_ he's here. We have to at least know what he's up to. Who knows what he's trying to screw up now?"

"I agree. This Crowley sounds like he could use a little visit," Jack interjected. The three of them narrowed their eyes at him. "We should go check out the location and set up a trap."

"Um… What do you think you're doing?" Zara inquired.

"Helping you?" Jack puzzled with a little head tilt. "From what you guys have been saying, this sounds like an all-hands-on-deck situation. And hey, I got hands."

He held up both his palms. Unfortunately, his marble smile wasn't winning any hearts. "Look, Jack, no offence," Dean addressed him. "But we just met you. We don't know who the hell you are and your credibility seems to be running low…"

"Well, Zara's known me for years," he challenged, holding Dean's gaze.

"I'm severely questioning everything I know about you right now," Zara stated as a matter-of-fact. Jack huffed, almost ready to give up. His shoulders sank. But he decided to try one more time.

"Zara, I know I lied to you about my identity and… I'm really sorry about that," he uttered. There was a visible vulnerability about him. It was evident in the way he hesitated and fidgeted about himself – cues that humans couldn't avoid. It seemed weird to see him exhibit the same body language that she tried to use with the Winchesters. "I _hate_ having to lie to you. But who I was when I was with you was nothing but the whole truth. I'm still me. I'm still the guy who helped sneak you out of the house on school nights. I'm still the guy who did your Literature homework when you didn't want to. I'm still the guy you asked to go to the prom with you."

Zara's chin tightened with a conscious effort to repress emotion. She gulped in anticipation of the tears that would fall if he persisted with this ridiculous bid for trust. Never in the last few months had she felt herself dissolving in this way before. She was taught the way of the demons. She'd learnt to forget everything human about herself yet here this _idiot_ was, breaking down the steel skeleton she held herself up with. _How dare he._

"And I know I wasn't there for you when you needed it," his eyebrows curved up towards his forehead in a dance of regret. "But I'm here now. I've decided that I've been absent for too long. So please, give me a chance."

Zara was stunned to silence. She looked to the Winchesters for counsel. "What do you guys think I should do?" she muttered with crossed arms.

"I think… you know what it's like to want a second chance," Sam expressed with his soft, caring eyes.

"Yeah. But it's your call," Dean added with a firm nod. Zara considered their opinions carefully. The answer was supposed to be obvious. Everything needed to be done carefully, to maximise the potential of the relationship she had developed with the Winchesters. This angel… was nothing but a liability. _Tell him to fuck off. He'll only ruin your plan._ Unfortunately, her heart became a sworn enemy of her brain in that moment. Some arbitrary justification involving what the Winchesters would think floated around in her head. She looked to her old friend again.

"You started our friendship with a lie," she began. "But we can start a new one with a truth. What's your _real name_?"

Jack smiled a magenta curve. He felt his heart grow wings just at the sight of her, excited at the prospect of being with her again. Her request was a simple one. For the woman he cherished, it was a right to know. He couldn't deny it to her. "My name…" he uttered with an electrified tongue. He craved the freedom he would soon get. "Is…"

 _Luciel._ Just as he was about to say it, he felt the air go deadly still. Again. The humans' eyes froze on him like wax statues. He felt a literal plug on the passage of time. Then, he felt a presence approaching him.

"What on God's green earth do you think you are doing?" a British voice sternly asked behind him. Jack spun around to face his second deity of the day. Death glared at him with beady, cynical eyes. As usual, he was impeccably dressed in black and held an ornate cane in one hand.

"Oh, it's you," Jack groaned, suppressing an eye-roll. "What's it look like? Fixing my friendship. Since when do you care anyway?"

Death stared him down with barely a twitch in his eyebrow. He didn't have to do much but Jack felt himself cowering on the inside. A look from Death could do that to you. "You think me a fool, boy? You think I can't tell that you're about to do the one thing that we told you not to?" he pointedly derided.

"I don't get it. It's just a name! It's _my_ name," he argued, jutting his neck forward to make the case passionately. "Why shouldn't I say it?!"

"Don't act like you don't know," Death cut him off. "You being here with that girl. There's only one thing you want to do. And I can't let you do that."

"What, protect my friend?" Jack frowned deeply, annoyance crisp in his voice.

"And pray do tell. What do you think you're protecting her from?" Death probed, crossing a palm over the back of a hand that held his cane.

"From… from herself! Do you see the way she's acting? She needs help," he ardently put forth, even pointing to her with a flustered gesture.

"You realise she's working for your father, right?" Death coolly stated.

"Yeah, I- I know. I've been watching," he said rather monotonously, eyes roving over the floor.

"How does that make you feel?" Death watched the archangel's reaction carefully. He seemed… conflicted.

"I don't know," he shrugged. A hand wandered to comb his jet-black hair backwards, displaying his marble temples which only brought out the hazel of his eyes more clearly. "I don't think I like it. I don't know what he's done to her but he's changed something about her. It doesn't seem right."

"So what do you want to do about it?" Death further asked. Jack shook his head slightly and shrugged again.

"I don't know. I just don't want her to get worse," he confessed. "If she lets me help her, I can keep an eye on things."

"Jack…"

"That is _not_ my name," he stated, voice saturated with fire.

"It will be for as long as it needs to," the horseman declared. "All it takes is for someone to say it. To actually address you by your true name. And then everything we've worked for will have been for nothing," he sharply berated.

"And what have we worked for, huh? I see _nothing_ ," he asserted with a growing disenchantment. "How many more years of my life have to _waste away_ in this fight? You know what? I'm tired of this. I'm putting my foot down to take care of people I care about. Even God doesn't have a problem with it. So why do _you_?"

"God's problem was always trusting people too much. Somehow, despite history repeating itself over and over again, He thinks you'll actually do the right thing given the choice. Luckily, I do not share His faith," Death took a commanding step towards him. "I'm going to lay down some rules for you and you _will_ obey."

Jack pouted, his lower lip defiantly protruding as if he tasted something really bitter.

"Rule Number One. You will _not_ use your archangel powers. Angel capacity is your maximum, as we've discussed," Death stated. "Better yet, don't use magic at all. But knowing you, that isn't an option."

"I'll try, I guess," the archangel nervously rubbed his elbow. "But you know what it's like when I get angry. It's hard to control."

"Then _don't_ get angry," Death commanded simply. "Rule Number Two. You will avoid talking or meeting with other angels."

"I thought it wouldn't matter. I thought this would help," he held up the back of his left hand, on which he wore a ring around his index finger. It was a platinum piece, engraved with ancient sigils by God Himself. God had given it to him so that he could mask his true face and appear as a normal angel to other supernatural beings.

"That's not the point. If you keep talking the way you do, angels are going to start asking questions. They're not stupid, you know," Death raised an eyebrow. "Some are… annoyingly persistent."

"Fine. But just so you know, I'm prepared to handle it," Jack reassured him with a self-assured look. "My improv skills? Off the charts."

"Rule Number Three. You will not _ever_ appear before Lucifer. You can't let him catch so much as a _glimpse_ of you. He'll see right through that mask." Jack inhaled deeply. That was something worth contemplating but he nodded anyway. His hesitation, however, troubled Death. "I know you wish to speak to him. But there is simply no chance that it ends well for you _or_ for him. Think about that. And this ties in to Zara. You will learn to keep a proper distance from her because obviously, Lucifer keeps an eye on his most valuable players."

"Okay," Jack simply assented as he pulled a hand down his face.

"And Rule Number Four. The most important rule of all," Death prefaced. "You may never, _never_ reveal your real name. Which is what you were tempted to do right then. The moment _anyone_ figures out that you're _here_ and not where Khaos thinks you are, we are _all_ doomed."

"But what am I supposed to do? She asked me for the truth," he lamented.

"Lie, Jack. You're an expert at it by this point," Death ordered with the knowledge of an infinite multiverse.

"Really? She's finally ready to let me back in her life again and you want me to lie? That's such a douche-bag move, man," he reasoned. Again, Death's glare threatened to kill.

"You know, your mother rarely listened to me. It's why we're in this mess. So take my advice or not, it's your call. I'm tired of having to deal with children," Death grumbled, causing Jack to grimace. But the boy remained subtly bemused. "What's on your mind now?"

"You said I was protected by a time paradox. That means the future is fixed. Why does it matter what I do now? I remember what happened- I mean, what _will_ happen," he stammered a question.

"The future is _not_ fixed. If the paradox does not play out the way you 'remember' it – and there _is_ the possibility – you'll simply… cease to exist," Death's warning reverberated in the tense silence that followed. It weighed heavily on Jack's shoulders. Those last words sure shut him up. "So, _lie._ "

Jack's eyes were lost in a river of thoughts, most of them seeing less hope by the day. But time flowed again and he found himself facing the expectant gazes of Sam, Dean and Zara, all waiting to hear an answer. He opened his mouth, staring straight into Zara's umber irises, and said, "… Malachiah."

* * *

A/N:

Bet you didn't see THAT coming, huh? Maybe you did, I don't know. Hope you enjoyed that. Having Luc around is certainly gonna make things interesting. But one thing I am concerned about, I hope no one's gonna confuse him with Jack from spn canon. The point of calling him Jack here is to give him an alias to hide his identity but rest assured, this is Luciel, son of Lucifer and Sophia.

And I know we haven't seen dear Sophie in a while. Don't worry about that, I got plans for her too coming up soon. Anyway, I hope you're liking it so far. Feel free to tell me what you think. I love hearing from you guys.


	71. Metamorphosis

Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

What is going on, guys? It's ya girl, Mild Depression here. Guess who has two thumbs and has a chronic inability to say 'no' to doing more work even when I clearly don't need to? God, it feels like I've been on overdrive since the beginning of the year and everyone is telling me to just chill the f out and take a break. So that's why the updates have been really slow. Last year alone, I wrote like 50 chapters for this fic. And so far this year, I've written only like 10. I really wanna write more, trust me. So until I find my footing again, here's another chapter for all you lovely people.

Oh and some of y'all had questions about Jack/Luc. Well that time paradox thing is an important story arc so I won't spoil it now. And no one recognises him as Luc because one, he was a literal toddler the last time anyone saw him and two, he has this masking device (the ring) that Chuck gave him that makes him look like any other angel. He's, like, older now, I guess the archangel equivalent of teenager(~18/19 yrs)? Also he's the Stormbringer (ain't that cute) like how his dad is the Lightbringer (feeeeeels). Also, if I write dialogues like _(this)_ , it means that the line is being spoken in another language.

 **Chapter 71: Metamorphosis**

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 1.15pm**_

"My name is Malachiah," he lied for the umpteenth time. It must have been odd to see the glee fade away so quickly, almost instantaneously, from his face, but Jack tried his best to maintain an unfettered smile. "But really, I prefer Jack."

"Alright," Zara nodded, finally finding it in herself to reciprocate the compassion. Outwardly, at least. She was still unsure of this whole situation – it was an unexpected turn of events. Nothing could have adequately prepared her for this moment.

"Okay," Dean clapped his hands together once. "Now that we're all caught up… Who's hungry? I sure am."

"I know a good diner nearby," Jack informed. "Best pork ribs in the state."

"Like you could tell," Zara mocked.

"Hey, I have excellent taste, thank you very much," he defended. Within a second, his wings flapped and they stood in a completely different place – the exit of an alley adjacent to the mentioned diner. Moments later, they found themselves sitting at a booth, Sam and Zara on one side and Dean and Jack on the other. Dean stared lovingly at his plate of pork ribs like an early Christmas present while Sam and Zara had chosen lighter meals. Jack had a simple cup of coffee before him, around which his palms were wrapped. His eyes were like upturned crescents, fixed on the stars he found twinkling in Zara's irises. His smile brightened the room with its sheer existence, she felt. She missed that smile, the way it comforted her when it used to feel like the air was a thorn-bush piercing her skin. _Dammit._ "So what's the case that brought you here?"

"We hunted a Rakshasa a while back. But now we're thinking that it wasn't working alone and its partner – or partners – are here," Sam filled him in while digging into his salad. "We _were_ on our way to investigate the lead when, you know, we ran into each other. And you? What brings you to town?"

"Oh, uh, I'm here for the music festival," he cracked a grin, eagerly bobbing his head. "My band's performing."

"You're in a band?" Zara couldn't help but smile at that, though she did raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It's always been my dream, remember?" Jack nudged her left hand.

"Yeah, but… I didn't expect…" she shrugged it off. _Focus, Zara. Focus on the mission._ A little part of her still couldn't believe he was here.

"Why, because I'm an angel?" he gave her a bored look. "Look, here's the thing. I've been living among humanity for a while now. I don't really like uh…" he twirled his finger in the air as he searched for the idea. "… getting involved with angels. So this whole… making-a-living thing? Part of my cover. Also who doesn't wanna be a rockstar?"

"So you don't go back to Heaven?" Sam probed.

"No uh- I haven't been in Heaven in ages," Jack answered. Then his eyebrows knotted as he stared at the murky depth of his drink. "Don't even remember when I last talked to an angel. It's been that long."

"You're lucky," Dean added. "They've been stirring up quite a storm up there, from what we've heard."

"Yeah, I've been keeping tabs," Jack sighed despondently, until his lips slowly curved again. "But… staying out of their way also makes it easier for me to do things I wanna do… like start a band."

"Wait, please don't say…" Dean held up a finger as he chewed a mouthful. He swallowed the thickly-sauced meat.

"Don't tell us you're in Brides In White," Zara completed his sentence for him.

"What? What do you think I am, some kind of basement-dwelling meth-head who couldn't tell words from noises? Please," Jack brusquely denied. Sam huffed a little smirk at that. " _Black Eternity_ only plays true metal. You guys should totally come check us out."

"I don't know…" Zara fidgeted in her seat. The old Zara would have said 'yes' in a heartbeat. But the old Zara also let herself be deceived by an angel.

"Please?" he begged, leaning forward. He spoke with a manner only he was capable of – it was a neat trick he accomplished by only slightly raising his eyebrows and looking straight into your soul while his lips parted ever so modestly, a stark contrast to the crudeness he was capable of mere moments earlier. It was probably why so few people had ever said 'no' to him. "It would mean a lot to me."

"Wait, if you're playing the festival, you could get us closer to Brides In White," Sam realised. The sound of his voice cut short Zara's bubbling inner conflict and she let herself look away from her friend. Sam and Dean seemed so sure of his innocence. There was no way they trusted him so quickly but to give him this much opportunity to earn their trust? It seemed like utter nonsense. But the act had to go on as intended and the best way to do that was to go with their flow.

"Why, you want an autograph, Sam?" Jack teased with a raised eyebrow.

"We think the Rakshasa's disguised as a band member," Sam simply answered. "So could you swing that?"

"I can do one better," he said smugly. "There's gonna be a party tonight. Performers and VIPs only. I'll bet my left kidney your guy's gonna be there."

"Can you get us in?" Dean asked, angling his body slightly to face him.

"You betcha, Hunter-Man," Jack agreed as he brought out his phone and texted someone.

"Awesome," Dean beamed. Maybe this Jack guy wasn't so bad, he thought.

Later, the three hunters followed Jack as he led them down the street to their initial destination – a park full of tour buses. He led them up the large black vehicle he introduced as belonging to his band, seeing as this was more discrete than having them aimlessly search the area rather suspiciously. The inside was rather cozy, with a lounge area preceding the bunk. Dean wandered about, curiously inspecting various things inside. The whole idea seemed dissonant – that an angel would choose to bed in a tour bus of all places, when all the world was a choice. An olive-skinned long-haired man came out of the bunk area, presumably after a nap.

"Hey Dee," Jack greeted. "Mind if I have some friends over?"

"Suh dude," Dee said in return, acknowledging the visitors. He eyed the Winchesters with a mild confusion, taking notice of their fed suits whereas he wore a simple tank top and shorts. "Nah man, I'm heading out. See ya."

With a smile and a wave, Dee hopped out of the bus, leaving the four of them alone. "That's our drummer. He's pretty good," Jack remarked. Sam pulled away a curtain, peeking outside to observe the other buses. The archangel came up next to him and for the first time, Sam truly noticed his incredible height that almost matched his own. That was a rare feeling. "See the one with the pink stripes? That's Brides In White."

"Thanks," Sam kept his gaze fixed on the vehicle, noting down other noticeable features for future reference.

"So what've you been up to the past seven years, huh?" Zara coolly asked as she took a seat at a window-side table. She looked at him properly this time – really looked at him, hoping to intuit an aura using Sophia's _kohl_ without giving it away (it worked sometimes). There seemed to be a glow about him, invisible to the ordinary viewer. It was the first real thing that fully registered to her as a sign that he was an angel. Suddenly it felt like she should have known it all along. Why he was so perfect, why he always smelled so good, why he never sweated, why he said he was "home-schooled" but was always available to hang out with her at the oddest of timings – it all began to make sense. Perhaps the most disconcerting thing to her about it all was the possibility that he had chosen to befriend her because of duty, not for the sake of it. Though she said she would give him another chance, thinking all of this didn't feel so good.

"You mean after you ran away without telling me?" Jack retorted with a mild saltiness in his voice, though he reassured her with a goofy smile.

"I left you a note," she said in her defence. His expectant look did not let up.

"Well, I've been travelling a lot. Filming videos with my buddies. I go wherever the wind takes me," he pulled up his shoulders as he excitedly shared his adventures. "One time, I jumped off a cliff into the ocean and then climbed back up. _That_ video's doing well on the internet."

"On the internet?" Dean turned back to face the angel.

"Yeah… Turns out people really like watching me jump off things," Jack added. His head would bob slightly at times, when he said odd things. Like a full ensemble, his eyebrow would raise and his lips would curve self-assuredly. Clearly, he enjoyed the kind of attention he got when he spoke. He was one of _those_ kinds of people. Zara knew all too well. "And skate over things. And climb things. A buncha things. I love it."

" _You_ vlog…" Zara huffed, smirking at the silliness of it all. "That is such a _you_ thing."

"I know right?" Jack agreed. "Who knew pretending to be human could be so fun?"

"Yeah, especially when you don't eat, sleep, fall sick or need a job?" she rebutted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You know, I get the point. You don't have to be mean about it," Jack grumbled, somewhat light-heartedly. Zara rolled her eyes.

"Jack, you don't even feel pain," she persisted with a pointed monotone. "I'm just saying, that sorta takes away from the 'human experience'."

His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head. "Of course I feel pain," he shot back, eliciting curious looks from the three of them. " _In here_ ," he laid a palm over his chest, expression immediately contorting with hurt briefly. Zara simply averted her head to gaze out the window, biting back a mean-spirited response. A brief silence eclipsed them. Sam and Dean took seats opposite Zara, ready to discuss their next move. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

Jack reached into a fridge and pulled out a six-pack, setting it on the table. The hunters helped themselves to the bottles of beer. "So did you ever meet with anyone from the band?" Dean switched the topic of conversation. A fizzing sounded as Jack used his teeth to pop open the metal bottle cap with ease. Seeing that, Zara attempted the same move. A laboured frown beset her forehead as the cap kept slipping out of her mouth. She tried again with more force but stopped when it began to bite into her lip. Mildly grinning, Jack set his own bottle down, took hers and popped it open with his teeth before giving it back to her. Zara's irises were quick to dart away as she sipped on her beer, reluctant to give him the satisfaction of normalcy.

"Yeah, I've talked to Danny a couple times. He is living proof that fame is a drug. Translation: He's a mega cunt," he stated as matter-of-fact. "Now, I normally don't wish death upon people, but why do we gotta lose Dio and Tupac but not Douchebag Danny?"

"Dio and… Tupac?" Dean puzzled. "Never thought I'd hear those two names in the same sentence."

"What can I say, I'm a wholesome man. Rock and Hip-Hop go together like milk and honey," he elaborated. "Might make a rap album someday. You can be the Slim to my Shady," he said playfully to Zara, nudging her shoulder with his.

"Pft. Whatever," she mumbled, still unimpressed.

Sam regarded the both of them with general unease. "Jack, so you never noticed anything weird about Danny? I assume that if he was a Rakshasa you woulda known, right? Or anyone else in the band," Sam speculated.

"That's possible. But no, I never noticed anything. But it's also possible that maybe… he's masking his appearance somehow," Jack pensively eyed his beer bottle as he twisted the ring around his index finger under the table.

"Wait, they can do that?" Sam probed, curiosity piqued.

"I don't see why not. Given the right tools, right skills, anything is possible," he shrugged. "So what's the plan? Is there anything in particular that could tell us for sure who the Rakshasa is?"

"Brass. It's their Kryptonite," Dean said. "Brass knife, brass… pipe. That's how we got one before."

"Right… the books mentioned that," Jack nodded.

"Oh, come on. Not you too," Dean grumbled. Jack was confused for a moment at the sight of disappointment on the Winchesters' faces.

"They don't- they're kinda touchy about that," Zara whispered quite audibly to him.

"What? I'm a fan of Carver Edlund's writing," he defended to Dean. "But I was kinda hoping to read more about Zara. Nice going, by the way. Classic Zara. Putting yourself in danger like that. What did you _think_ was gonna happen?"

"Oh, really?" Zara huffed, angling herself towards him. "You're gonna sit there and judge me for that when _you_ coulda done your _job_ and saved me? Unbelievable. As if the internet's judgment wasn't enough."

"Fine. Fine!" Jack rushed to calm her down. "I'm kidding. Jesus." Sam looked between the both of them. From his spot, their postures mirrored each other – Jack looking away to the right while Zara looked to the left. Even their eyes appeared identical in shape, though their irises differed in colour. At first glance, he would have thought they were siblings. Then, Jack turned back to Zara, leaning a bit closer with a thin smile, and said, "Don't worry about the internet. They still have good fanfiction about you."

Her head slowly craned to face him. He nodded with an expectation of dispelling her anger but it didn't seem to work. She shook her head and turned away again.

"Okay…" Dean interjected. "I say we split up. We can cover more ground at the party. Talk to people, see if anything weird comes up. Our guy has a thing for girls who're insecure."

"Isn't that like… all of them?" Jack inquired. Zara raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It was just another string of words she was used to hearing from him.

"I mean girls who are easy to prey on," Dean clarified. Jack nodded his head with a distinctly perplexed expression. "Easily taken advantage of?"

"Again, that's not specific," he said. "Everyone's fair game."

"Okay, you know what, let Zara do the profiling," Dean said.

"In the meantime we should go check out Crowley's spot," Sam suggested. "See if we can clear it out and get a shot at him."

Alarms went off in Zara's head. Crowley was a target – and one who knew things too. Things that could jeopardise her relationship with the Winchesters. She had to do something about it.

"It's quite a risk, isn't it? If this is business, he'll have the place swarming with his mooks. We need to plan this carefully," Zara said gravely, looking between the brothers. Jack picked up on her change in tone, finding it strange. "What if I go in first and distract him? Then you guys can come 'round the back and take out his back-up."

"You know, you almost gave me hope when you said this was risky. I mean _you_ , Zara "Danger" Joshi, considering the idea of risk," Jack retorted. "And then you followed up with the _worst_ plan I've ever heard in my life!"

"Hey, what's your problem? Let me do my job, _dick_ ," Zara shot back.

"Well I'm trying to do _mine_ , Danger," he voiced with narrowed eyes. "Listen, splitting up isn't gonna help. We gotta stick together and charge him."

"Jack's right," Dean declared. "We're gonna be stealthy but we gotta stay close. Makes it difficult for him to catch us off-guard. Besides, we have an angel on our side."

"Should we call Cas?" Sam suggested. Jack took particular notice of that. Rule Two. "The more the merrier."

"No, he's gotta watch over Kevin," Dean refused. " _Someone_ has to tell the kid to take it easy before he goes all Beautiful Mind on us."

"Alright," Jack clapped his hands together. "Let's get a move on, shall we?" Just as they all got up to leave, he stopped himself. "Oh wait, I almost forgot." A brief chuckle sputtered out of his lips and he grasped his own chin with two fingers in contemplation. "I know someone who can help us." His eyes aimlessly wandered about the lounge as he whistled. "Ser Adler, where are you?"

"Who?" Sam asked, eyes scrunched in curiosity.

"Adler?" Jack continued to question thin air. Then his eyes rested on a counter-top to Zara's immediate right and his lips curved up into a smile. "There he is."

Zara craned her head to see what it was. Her gaze caught the creature and instinctively, she shrieked at the sight of the lizard, scrambling to get away from it. "What the _hell_ is that?!" she yelled at him while seeking refuge at Sam's side.

"Hey! Don't be rude. He scares easy," Jack carefully picked up the greenish creature, whose body was about the size of his palm. "See, this is why I never introduced him to you before. I _knew_ you'd be such a _girl_ about it."

"Why do you have… that?" Zara's heart thudded in her chest. She couldn't get over the sight of its reptilian eyes as Jack stroked its scaly back lovingly. "Ugh…" she cringed externally.

"She doesn't mean it, buddy," he whispered into Ser Adler's ear. "She'll love you too." The lizard lazily clucked a response and crawled swiftly up his forearm. Jack barely even twitched as Ser Adler settled on his shoulder. He seemed so at-ease and happy with the creature on him that even Dean couldn't peg a suspicion on him. "Ser Adler is my faithful companion. Follows me everywhere. He's pretty awesome. And a great judge of character too."

"Are- are you for real?" Dean asked, unsure if he was being rhetorical. "You're bringing your pet lizard along for a demon hunt?"

"He's not my pet, Dean. He's my friend," Jack corrected him. "Trust me, he knows his way around demons."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

Her panting followed a swift tempo. Zara ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Through the fog, her body sliced the air, leaving a cloudy trail. And behind her followed the hungry patter of creatures unknown. All she could hear was their groaning and grunting for her flesh, along with some slicing noises that sounded like knives. _Great, they're armed._ She could barely see what was in front of her. With such low visibility, she almost ran into a number of things – large rocks, dead trees and even some humanoid beings that hissed at her. They had burnt skin, stick-thin figures and lifeless eyes that longed for nothing but death. An unhinged shriek ensued before she switched tracks and took off away from them.

Now she was heaving with effort, legs cramping and exhausted. One foot trudged after the other. She could feel her knees threatening to buckle under her, which only added to the impending sense of doom. All it took was one oddly placed rock sticking out from the ground to abruptly catch her toes. Forward she fell, impacting coarsely on her forearms. What made it worse was the fact that she was going downhill somewhere, and falling only made the steepness of the slope more powerful in propelling her forward. Her body spun and spun and soon she lost track of the things that passed her. Down and fast she went, without a means of braking her fall. Except for one thing. Zara's eyes widened in the split second before a sharp half-buried metal rod came into view.

And then it disappeared from view again. Her vision exploded with light and not the good kind. It was a pulsating alarm that yelled for relief, permeating every inch of her being. No space for thoughts. Only pain. When the initial shock subsided, she dared look down, though her heart pounded wildly in her chest. _Get it out. Get it out!_ Her shallow breaths shared the same pace as her disordered thoughts. A mortified bawl escaped her lips. Quivering, her hands chanced a venture towards the site of injury. Merely touching the rod sent waves of pain bursting out from her left flank and she immediately let go. Instead, she felt the circumference of the wound, ominously glaring at the dark stains on her palms. _Is this it? Eternal suffering?_

The deep red light from the sky glinted radiantly off the curvature of the metal rod. Faint zombie-ish groaning sounded from afar. Those creatures were getting closer. She needed to get out of there. She tried to sit up. Pain shot through her in spikes. She gave up. The moving of the rod within her abdomen was just too much to bear. Zara hissed and winced as her palms encircled the rod. Her arms were heavy and grip weak. A deep inhale served the momentum to yank it out but was soon overpowered by the blindingly sharp pain. Her hands fell back, resenting the effort. But this was survival. Another attempt was made. This time, the short piece of metal shifted optimistically.

With enough of a fight, it slid out of her torso, leaving but a feeling of emptiness where a kidney used to be intact. _Well, at least there are two of them._ Blood poured out into the dust. _Shit._ The fabric of her shirt bunched under her grip as she tried to clog the flow and apply pressure to the wound. At least now she was free to stand, albeit in agony. Like the very creatures she sought to escape, she staggered forward with a little bit of a limp. _Already one step closer to becoming one of them._ Progress was slow but still existent.

She came upon a desolate shack. Splintered wooden planks stuck out at odd angles and there were chunks missing where the roof should have been. _What could have lived in a place like this?_ As Zara went up onto the front porch, the floorboards creaked a symphony under her feet. She glimpsed through the broken windows but there was only darkness. Perhaps a small light in the distance, deep inside. That was curious. It was the first thing she'd seen here to have any kind of clear illumination. Perhaps she was supposed to find it.

In the distance, a chorus of howling echoed. It was another sign that she wasn't truly alone here. What lay beyond the front door in the darkness was not best left to the imagination but the risk had to be considered. A cold breeze swept past her, causing her to tremble more. A hanging decoration made of skulls strung together noisily clamoured against the ceiling of the porch. It was like an ominous drumbeat and every strike was bone-chilling. Staring into the empty eye sockets, it felt like they were watching her, waiting for something to snicker at. She knew she'd lose her shit if the skulls started talking. Stranger things had happened.

More importantly, all the noise was bound to attract attention and she was still bleeding from her side. _There might be something inside that could help._ She scoffed. _A first aid kit in Hell? Please._ But it had to be worth looking for. _Worth stepping into the abyss of death?_ Another wave of howling began, this time from a different direction. A bloody hand twisted the knob and pulled the rustic door open. She had barely stepped inside when the wind shut the door firmly behind her, causing her to flinch. She froze in the darkness, awaiting the welcome of anything that could be there with her. There was only silence. A droning, deafening silence that resonated in her ears.

Zara's sputtering inhales were caught between a need to stay quiet and a need to breathe. She gambled a few steps further in, being careful not to bump into anything. Her whole body was on-edge, somehow priming her to throw a punch should anything come at her even if raising either arm hurt. A whisper erupted from her right. She jerked in that direction but could not see anything. Again, the whisper sounded.

" _Human…"_

Zara held onto a prayer as she carried on. Her back shuddered with a coldness, anticipating some kind of attack but nothing happened.

" _Fresh meat…"_

This one came from the left. Zara staggered away from the voice.

" _Fingers for me…"_

" _Don't be greedy!"_

A spasmodic chuckle sounded. " _Have us… have you… will you…"_

Now there was a cacophony of whispers, all having a disarray of hushed conversations among them. But no one seemed to make a move – at least, there was no sound of movement. The longer she spent here, the more she realised this was no ordinary shack. It seemed to go on and on, like an endless hallway. And there were things in here too. She decided it was probably best to focus on the single yellow light that dimly shone in the distance like a setting sun.

" _Dies irae! Dies illa!"_ one voice repeated, with a marked attempt to sing. It only ended up sounding like a wail.

As the light drew nearer, it became clearer what this place was. The shape of bars came into view on both her sides. Cells. The walls were thick and grimy, like they had been spattered with guts which decayed over centuries. The sight of the metal bars perhaps was a little comforting – an assurance that whatever was inside couldn't get her. Until she noticed some of the cells with outwardly displaced bars near the bottom, leaving just enough of a gap that a whole person could crawl out from. Zara gulped.

The hallway got just a little brighter as she went on. The floorboards that made up the ground became clearer. The voices had also quietened down. She still couldn't see the inhabitants of the cells but that was perhaps a gift rather than a curse. One step forward. A long object zoomed past her vision and thudded loudly against the wall on her left, causing her to jump. She'd even let out a little shriek, caught by absolute horror. She looked to where the object had been thrown from. Blackness beyond the bars greeted her. Only the sound of something dripping was audible. Then she turned to the thing that was thrown in her direction, missing her by a narrow margin. On the ground lay, limp and lifeless, a severed arm. The bone protruded starkly where an elbow was supposed to be and blood pooled on the ground from the end. Zara felt her head grow dizzy at the sight. It looked fresh.

" _Fetch… play fetch…"_

She picked it up by the forearm, internally cringing. The fingers clenched into a fist despite being detached from whatever being it came from. "There… there you go…" she croaked as she passed the hand through the gap in the bars. She gasped as something from beyond swiftly yanked the hand from her. She backed away slowly to carry on forward.

" _Agh!_ " a loud bang sounded. And then more ensued. Zara flinched with every one, the loudness reverberating in her chest. The severed arm was slammed repeatedly against the bars. The person inside continued yelling. Howling chorused from the end of the hallway where she'd come from. It sounded like it was getting closer. Zara took off towards the light, frantically clutching her side as she limped for life.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._ Their footsteps drew nearer. She whimpered in pain as she struggled to increase her pace. Finally, she found the source of light – a torch. This place must have been so old that they didn't even bother channelling electricity in here. The torch was just a stick with a flame on one end. Somehow it seemed like her only hope, like all her answers lay within this one object.

They wailed and they laughed. They crawled and they ran. They were absolutely hysterical. Zara clamoured over to the wall with the torch. It overlooked a sudden drop, where the floor abruptly ended and led to nothingness below. She plucked the torch and held it defensively in front of her. All movement stopped. There was a Gollum-looking fellow snarling at her, eyes wide with derangement. Eyes that seemed to convey a thirst that only she could satisfy. At his side was a four-legged creature with dark hair that swept the floor. _Were these once humans?_ The crawling thing even drooled in hunger, limbs poised like those of a spider ready to pounce on an insect caught in its web.

Yet, their hesitation was suspect. They seemed absolutely enamoured by the sight of her but made no further move. Zara looked at them and they looked at Zara. Only a flame stood between them. Gollum itched to get closer. Instinctively, she jerked the torch towards his direction. He scrambled back to his earlier position. _He's scared of fire._ "Go away…" she weakly ordered. That had little effect on them. Gollum tilted his head slightly. "Stay back!" she snapped, jutting out the torch further. They stepped back cautiously. She figured this was the only way to get out, other than jumping into the pit of certain death. Silence ensued. Zara took their silence to be a good sign.

She stepped toward them, determined to go back the way she came and perhaps explore the room at the front a little more. They stepped back in turn, hasty to avoid fire. She kept her eyes on the both of them, anxious about every move she was making. She seemed to be making good progress, even if she'd only moved a few steps and the two of them were still in front of her.

Crawlie screamed, jaw dropping in an inhuman gape. The piercing scream shook Zara's very core. Zara hurried to point the torch at her. It mattered no more. The creature's joints contracted and almost immediately loosened, sending her jumping at Zara. By some miracle, Zara managed to dodge her, careening instead to the side. She still held the torch resolutely in her hand but having lost all balance, she could only watch as Gollum stormed towards her.

"No- No… no!" she helplessly yelled while the sharp, forceful hands groped her and hoisted her upwards. She resisted as much as she could, kicking and punching. But her efforts barely made a dent on the creature. Her knuckles grew sore and her knees buckled. Deciding to change tactic, she pulled herself away instead. Gollum hissed and wailed as she struggled. Zara forced a leg backwards to generate the momentum to peel herself out of his grasp. Meanwhile, Crawlie kept on screaming aimlessly. The way her joints were tightening again, Zara imagined she was going to pounce again. The vision of being trapped under not one but both of them was a hopeless one. Channelling a grunt from her core, Zara pulled once more as hard as she could. In a split second, she felt the cold release of her body out of the bear trap of Gollum's arms.

Before she could celebrate however, her vision spun with her fall. Her back hit the ground in an awkward position – a sharp impact against the ledge midway down her back. The speed of her fall wasn't conducive for a quick reaction. Hands flailing against the ground, she could do naught but watch passively as her body rolled off the edge, down into the deep darkness.

* * *

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 2.23pm**_

"You're sure Silent Hill's the right place?" Dean asked, eyes warily fixated on the building before them. They stood at a comfortable distance, in the cover of withering trees, that gave them a view of its side. It was big – plenty of space and floors for Crowley's entourage to patrol and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. A thick cement border wall with barbed wire along the top formed the perimeter. The ground between where they stood and the building was carpeted with fallen auburn and sand-coloured leaves. The sky was a cloudy grey, necessitating a change in attire from the stiff Fed suits to a more casual leather and flannel.

"Yeah. This is the only old hospital in this area. Place shut down thirty years ago when they shifted base," Sam filled them in, digging his hands in his pockets for warmth.

"Hey Bird Boy, can you get eyes on the Hell-bitches?" Zara quipped, squinting at the building. From this distance, even her _angel vision_ couldn't clock a precise location or number on Crowley's men. After all, being a human with angel sight was not nearly as powerful as an actual angel's eyes.

Jack stepped forward to abide her request. Ser Adler sat quietly on his shoulder as a mere observer while Jack fed him a live cricket from a handful he'd grabbed earlier. His eyes scanned the place, trying to read a signature, but something seemed to hinder him. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration. Strange symbols seemed to pop up in the bordering wall. "There's something blocking me," he ruminated. "Like… something keeping me out."

"You mean it's warded?" Sam clarified.

"Yeah, that," Jack answered. "I need to get a closer look."

He advanced towards the wall, leaving the others to hurry to catch up with him. He stopped imposingly before the wall, befuddled by its effects on him. It felt strange not being able to see so clearly and he just wanted a resolution to it. Curious, he touched the wall gently with his fingers to inspect it.

"So which doodles do we have to scratch off?" Dean inquired of the angel. The way Jack was looking at the place – like something was wrong – made him a little cautious.

"Huh?" Jack puzzled.

"I mean which- which sigils do we have to destroy before you can mojo in?" Dean elaborated.

"Oh, uh- hm," he stuttered. They all looked at him expectantly. "Shouldn't you know? You must've done this before." Before anyone could press him on it, he said, "Look, a door." He led them towards the distinct black outline of a door on the wall. "Jimmy it open."

Sam reached into a duffel bag and brought out a crowbar, which he then used to pry the door open. With some effort, the door gave way, granting them access. Now all that was left was the question of how to get the angel in. A frown continued to eclipse Jack's face as his eyes darted about several parts of the building, as if he could figure out some sort of physical way to get in. The door seemed obvious, but he felt a sort of resistance that he couldn't shake off. It was weird.

"Okay, look," Dean began, addressing the angel. "I don't know if you failed sigil class in angel Hogwarts, I don't care. But we're gonna try scribbling off as much of the warding as we can and it would help if you know… you could point us in the right direction. You gotta know _something,_ right?"

"Isn't it all hard-wired into you or something?" Sam speculated.

"Uh…" Jack stuttered. Just in that moment, Ser Adler clucked his tongue in Jack's ear. "Wait, what's that?" he tilted his head towards his buddy. "You sure, man?" Carefully, he cradled the lizard in his palms and held him in front of himself. More clicking noises ensued and Jack nodded in understanding. "Ser Adler says he can help."

Dean recoiled in bewilderment as the angel held the lizard out towards him. "Okay- I gotta ask. Is this some kind of joke?" he frowned. "I mean, we've known each other for a few _hours_ and you've said some wacky stuff, but this? Is this some kind of Seinfeld special sent from Heaven?"

"What part of this is funny to you?" Jack asked in a rather serious tone. "I'm offering help."

"Jack, are you saying that…" Sam chimed in, in defence of his brother's shock. "That your pet lizard can tell us how to undo the warding?"

"He's my _friend,_ thank you very much, and yes. If he says he knows how, I believe him," Jack stood his ground, chin held high. "He's special."

"No, you're special. In the head," Dean berated. He shook his head in resignation and looked to the heavens. "I can't believe this. An angel who wants to be a rockstar, makes _vlogs_ and has a lizard who knows about sigils. Come on, man. You think we're buying this?"

"What's so hard to believe? Zara, tell them," he beckoned. She jerked her head towards him in confusion. "Do I really surprise you? Hmm…?"

"Yes," she nodded firmly, wide eyes unyielding. She stuttered a little. "I- I don't know what you're expecting, Jack. You just walk into my life one day, tell me you're an angel and expect us to go along with everything you say?"

Jack was dumbfounded. He hadn't expected so much… resistance. But adapting was always what he was good at. "Okay, okay. I get that. Maybe I don't sound like the typical… cookie-cutter angel. I wasn't trained like them, okay?" he held up his hands in surrender. Ser Adler appropriately scuttered onto his left forearm to watch the debacle.

"So what, you were in like some… special unit or something?" Sam wondered.

"Or something," Jack agreed. "Point is, I bring a… _different_ set of skills to the table. And this is one of them." He gestured with his eyes to his forearm, which he held up to support Ser Adler. The scaly familiar simply observed with an innocent glare. "What have you gotta lose by trusting me on this one?"

"Well… witches use animals as companions too," Sam considered, giving his brother a knowing look.

Dean released a tired exhale through his nostrils and rubbed the back of his head. As much as he tried, his keen instincts simply did not go off around Jack. "Alright," he relented.

"What?" Zara turned to him with a frown. Since when was Dean so trusting?

"You heard 'im. What've we gotta lose? Let's give it a shot," Dean shrugged. "Never thought I'd be asking a lizard for directions in my life, but here we are."

Ser Adler clucked in excitement and slithered to the back of Jack's palm. He reached out a claw to Dean and held his mouth agape in a radiant reptilian smile. "Aww, Dean, I think he likes you," Jack gushed as he went over to the elder Winchester.

"He has that effect on all the ladies," Sam teased with a half-smile. Dean held Adler's beady gaze, unsure of how to proceed.

"Go on," Jack urged.

"Uh-" Dean hesitantly held up the side of his index finger to Adler's claw, which Adler then held onto like a toddler holding onto a parent's finger. "Now what? Are we good to go?"

Carefully, Ser Adler crawled onto the back of Dean's palm. "Just relax. Let him do his thing," Jack instructed. Dean's arm initially tensed but he took a deep breath to loosen himself. Ser Adler scurried up his sleeve to assume a position on his shoulder. "Alright," he chuckled as he observed the pair. Dean, the uncertain yet intrigued hunter, and Ser Adler, the clever and adorable reptile. He felt like a proud parent. "You have my blessing. See you in a bit."

"Alright, Scooby. Show us what you got," Dean announced. He and Sam treaded through the door. Zara took a moment to raise an eyebrow at Jack.

"Wait, does that make me Shaggy?" he called out after them. A short chuckle escaped his lips but Zara seemed unamused.

"I'm watching you," she warned, half-joking and half-not.

"Awesome," he beamed a wide grin. His smiling eyes watched her as she turned around to follow the Winchesters. As soon as her back turned to him, coldness eclipsed her face again.

Each armed with a spray can, they crept around the perimeter. Ser Adler had pointed to a particular sigil on the wall that had a triangle inside a circle with some more strange lines coming from it. "This one?" Dean went closer to the wall while Zara and Sam kept watch. Ser Adler scurried so fast down his arm that he almost jumped. The lizard latched itself onto the wall and tapped on the sigil. "Alright, stay clear."

"How you holding up?" Sam whispered to Zara while Dean spray-painted an 'X' over the sigil. "You seem a little on-edge."

"I am," Zara admitted, arms folded.

"You don't trust him?"

"It's not that… I don't know," she shrugged. "Like I said, I tried to leave everything behind when I left home. Seeing him only brings up old wounds…"

"But you said he was the one good thing-"

"I know, Sam," her shoulders dropped with a single exhale. "It's too good to be true. I feel like I'm just waiting for something to happen. Like…"

"Like something's about to go horribly wrong?" he finished her sentence.

"Yeah."

"I mean, he seems genuine. But I get it. It doesn't hurt to be careful," he advised. "Besides, you won't be alone. If anything goes sideways, Dean and I are still here."

Zara held his hazel gaze with the sincerest vulnerability she could summon. The depth of his eyes was reassuring. Slowly, the side of her lips curved up. "Thank you," she muttered. Her hand inched closer to his, tracing electricity down his forearm as her palm found his. Everything about her seemed alluring to him. Sam found himself tempted by her doe eyes and yearning lips more by the second. A magnetic attraction pulled them closer together as he leaned down into her lips. Within a second, she was lost in the connection between them. The feeling of his lips against hers left a sweet remnant even when he pulled away. They were still so focused on each other, entranced by the miracle of their coming together. Somehow it just felt so natural and right.

Dean coughed. They returned to the real world, palms snapping away from each other. Dean tried his best to maintain a neutral expression, though his lips formed a tight, flat line. He felt awkward more than anything to get between them but work had to come first. "The uh-" he cleared his throat. "There's more that way."

Ser Adler slithered along the wall, stopping appropriately to tap his little claw against a sigil. With Sam and Zara taking out some patrolling demons and Dean undoing the warding, they got the job done in no time. They were standing in the shade of a tree next to the border wall when Jack managed to appear before them. "Hope I didn't miss anything," he quipped with his usual charm.

"The fun hasn't even started yet," Zara reassured him. Jack put a hand to the wall to receive Ser Adler, who climbed up his arm, scurried around his neck and pulled his way up the angel's hair and face. Jack blinked passively, letting the reptile do as he wished.

"You cozy yet?" his head tilted upwards slightly. Ser Adler bunched Jack's hair in his grip as he adjusted his feet to lie on the top of his head. In an instant, the archangel felt his mind expand naturally, like he and Adler were one.

"Alright, let's pop this can," Dean ushered. But as they turned to move, Jack remained frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on some arbitrary point. "What's wrong?"

"Something's not right," Jack uttered, eyebrows knotted in a piercing blue steel. He knelt down and pressed a hand to the ground to sense the presence of the demons. Everything felt so much clearer now with the warding weakened. But there was also something else.

"Jack…" Zara called him.

"Sh." His head suddenly jerked up, with Ser Adler's head too following suit. Jack's head jerked right towards the building and so did Ser Adler's. It was uncanny how synchronised they were. He suddenly got up and staggered towards the building.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked the question on their minds.

They could only see the flowing locks of dark hair cascading down his black leather back until the side of his head turned to them. "You guys should go ahead first. I'll catch up," he suggested.

"Wait, Jack-" Sam barely said when they heard the flap of wings. And just like that, they were staring at thin air.

"Okay, now I believe he's an angel," Dean grumbled. "They all got that Houdini act down."

Zara pursed her lips, sucking in her cheeks as she wondered what she'd gotten them signed up for.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

The sudden brightness stung her eyes. Zara lay on the floor, heart palpitating. She'd expected more of a rough landing but as it had turned out, she found herself in this position with no memory of ever seeing ground. A giggle sounded in the distance. She jerked her head up. Birds chirped and dashed between trees. There was a breeze. Breath abated, she pulled herself to her feet. There was no pain anymore though dust still coated her clothes and body. She pulled up her blood-stained black top, revealing intact skin. But what appeared before her was way more disorienting.

A woman in a tracksuit jogged past her on the sidewalk. The suburb was vivid. The green of the lawns, the white of the pavement, the blue of the sky – the colours popped like a children's book. The serenity was mind-numbing. Ten seconds had passed and nothing jumped at her. It was more unsettling than Hell. _Where the hell am I?_

"… lucky my mom didn't show up for the try-outs," a male voice came into earshot. It sounded painfully familiar. He smirked and so did his friend. Zara spun around swiftly. Her pupils shrunk in recognition.

"Dev?" she mumbled. Standing right before him as he walked towards her, he looked just as he did in her memory of him – when he was much younger. He was darker than her, but they shared the crisp black hair colour and almond-shaped eyes. He and his friend were in their soccer attire and he held a slightly soiled soccer ball against his waist. "Dev," she called his name again.

"Nah… She's too obsessed with Zara to care. As usual," he sardonically huffed.

"Hey," Zara tried to get his attention. But her brother and his friend simply walked past her. "They can't see me," she realised. Now it all made sense. The disgusting blandness of the suburb, the nonchalance hiding under the façade of normalcy, her brother in the scene – this was her personal Hell. Her own childhood home. Trust Satan to deliver the right punishment.

By the looks of it, her brother looked about sixteen. Which made this a memory of a time when she was fourteen. _Oh boy._ She continued down the street after her brother. He and his friend had switched the topic of conversation to something more trivial, like school stuff. Everything was so surreal. It all looked exactly how she remembered it. Though the area looked as mundane as any other suburb in the state, there always seemed to be a darkness – a dark energy – lurking under the fabric of reality. She recognised some of the people they walked past.

There was Amanda, the girl in her class who she tried to be friends with just because they lived close to each other and her mother approved of the girl's Christian background. But things had turned out differently when Zara started to like different things – things that her pious friend could not fathom. Amanda was watering the plants in her front yard and waved a hello to Dev as they walked past. _Unworthy,_ a sharp whisper sounded in Zara's ear. She flinched and turned towards the voice but no one was there.

There was Sheila, the blonde cheerleader-type who wore skimpy clothes whenever she could get away with it. Zara always envied how free she must have felt while her own mother bought her long skirts and cardigans. Sheila was a nice gal to talk to, but she always hung out with the type of people that followed trends like sheep and had the combined critical thinking capacity of a potato. _Wasted potential,_ again the whisper said. At this point, Sheila was sauntering down the sidewalk across the street holding hands with some nameless jock whose face seemed familiar but not familiar enough to remember. It was really a small town.

And then they came upon _that_ place. Her house. Just seeing it left a bad taste in her mouth. The crucifix stood nailed to the front porch, right next to the door. The exterior was a depression-grey, a colourful contrast to the interior of sickening white like the walls of a mental asylum which only made her want to scratch her own brains out. Hell, even mental asylums had more colours in them these days. Unattended bushes along the fences withered – flowers left to rot on the grave of her sanity. As her brother entered, she snuck in before the door could shut.

Her mother was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, a usual sight for the housewife. Her rose complexion appeared radiant in the lighting – something Zara definitely inherited from her. She wore a long gown, long hair pulled back into a tight bun. Sometimes Zara wondered if her hair was pulled so tight that it cut off circulation to her brain. It would explain why her mom was always in such a bad mood. The age showed from the lines on her cheeks and forehead. Dev was about to go to his room upstairs when their mother called him over. _"(Look at the time!)"_ her mother berated in Hindi. It was 7pm.

" _(Soccer practice, Mom),"_ Dev explained, using the same tongue. He held back a sigh. _"(I told you this morning.)"_

" _(I don't know why you kids always come back at an ungodly hour),"_ she grumbled, slicing more fervently into an onion. _"(And your sister isn't back yet. Why doesn't she come home on time? You tell her one thing and she does another. It's always like this with her.)"_

Zara huffed derisively. "She must be at the library," Dev guessed.

" _(Or wasting away with her low-life friends, you never know),"_ she kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the chopping board as she murdered the vegetables. _"(Your sister is going down the wrong path. Making friends with thugs and lazy scum. How will I ever raise her like this?)"_

"Hey, my friends aren't that bad," Zara defended to no one. "And I'm at the freakin' library. You know, reading." Obviously, her words fell on deaf ears. Her critical gaze settled on her brother. "Say something, idiot. Don't just stand there." Instead, he just rolled his eyes and took off to his room. "Thanks for the support," she yelled after him.

" _(Go and fetch your sister),"_ her mother called out before he shut the door. Moments later, he emerged in cleaner clothing and marched out the front door. Zara followed him as he wordlessly went off in search of her. Sometimes she wondered what went on in that thick skull of his. She wondered if he ever truly cared, or whether he was just filling up the role of a sibling like a job he didn't sign up for.

The library was a modest two-storey building not too far from the school. Zara came here often, before the drugs and the anxiety had fully set in. The books were an expanse compared to the closely-set four walls that were her bedroom. Here her mind could go anywhere without hindrance. Dev walked in, mind with a mission. He stopped before the reading area and scanned the place. There weren't many people at this time. Even fewer were seated at the ordered tables and chairs. And none of them Zara.

He went down an aisle of bookshelves, head poised to detect his little sister around the corner. Soon enough, a soft giggle sounded. He abruptly stopped, briskly moving towards the wall adjacent to the bookshelf. Zara found a younger version of herself seated against a wall with a book in one hand – held open with a thumb in the spine – and her mp3 player in the other. "Bangs, ew," she grimaced as she looked at her fourteen-year old self. Young Zara appeared to be in conversation with someone else, even sharing an earphone with them. As she neared the wall, she saw who it was. Her heart fluttered and pounded at the same time to recognise Jack. His long black hair hung down the sides of his face, framing a radiant smile. Suddenly this memory didn't feel so bad anymore.

The two of them stopped mid-conversation and turned to Dev as soon as he appeared in sight. He appeared positively befuddled, and maybe a little annoyed. " _(Zara, what's the time?)_ " he asked impatiently.

She blankly turned to the large clock nearby. "Oh," she realised. "I didn't notice."

"Come on, we have to go," he beckoned with a hand gesture.

Young Zara reluctantly bid Jack farewell. "Sorry, warden's come to take me back to my cell," she grumbled. She looked quite tiny in her long-sleeve turtleneck shirt and dark pants. Well, most people looked meagre compared to Jack, even if he was somewhat lean himself.

"Another time, then," Jack smiled warmly at her. "It's a good book, isn't it?"

"I love it," she agreed, getting up with her things. "I'll take it home and finish it."

The three of them stood by the library counter as Zara borrowed some books. Jack towered over the both of them with his height and he simply dug his hands into his pockets. " _(Are you thick in the head?)_ " Dev silently reprimanded her in their native tongue. " _(Staying out this late?)_ "

"It's just the library. I'm not doing anything illegal," Young Zara defended, keeping her expression as neutral as possible while dealing with the library staff. Jack listened in intently, though he showed no sign of comprehension. Zara had only found out later that he spoke multiple languages fluently, including her own.

"It doesn't matter. You need to be home before 6.30," Dev stated. "You're giving Mom a hard time, you know that?"

Older Zara and Younger Zara scoffed simultaneously. "She gives herself a hard time," Young Zara rebutted. "She's always paranoid. Thinks the world will end every time she turns on the TV and a lady in a bikini appears in an ad."

"Exactly. She's paranoid. You can't keep worrying her like this. Leave by 5.30 next time," he advised. "It's easy for you to be as you wish but I'm the one who has to listen to her complaining." Dev's round eyes roved over the books she'd gotten and picked up one. "How do I even pronounce this? Freee… drich… Ni… Ni-yet…"

"Friedrich Nietzsche," Young Zara told him, rolling her eyes at him. "German philosopher."

"Whatever," he dismissed. She'd barely gotten the books into her backpack when he dragged her out the front door. She stopped him as soon as they left the establishment and stood out in the cold, turning to Jack. Every time her eyes met his, she couldn't help but smile. Leaving his side had felt lonely. She'd stay out the whole night if it meant spending time with him. He was just one of those people you could never grow tired of. Being with him had felt like being _home._

"I could walk you home," Jack offered, long tendrils of his hair swaying in the evening breeze.

"No thanks," Dev muttered almost immediately. "Whoever you are."

Just like that, he dragged his little sister away, leaving her to half-heartedly mumble a goodbye. Older Zara now watched Jack – how he dejectedly watched them walk away before turning away himself and going back to wherever he came from. Seeing him again made her feel a warmth she'd never felt after that and it hurt to see him go now just as it did back then. She longed for the simplicity of their friendship – just having fun with no expectations. As much as she wanted to follow him to see where he'd go – a question she'd always had – the memory was like a simulation. The world faded away around Jack. The only way forward was to follow her younger self.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Dev asked curtly – in English this time – still leading his sister by the elbow. "Looks older than you. Is he in your class?"

"He's not my boyfriend," she denied. Her voice sounded soft and innocent, before the roughness of the world had made it sharp. "I think he said he's eighteen."

"So he's in college?" he probed.

"No… I don't know," she simply said.

"Zara… that sounds shady," Dev pointed out. "Don't hang out with strange men."

"He's not strange," she shot back. "He's really nice."

"They all seem nice at first. But before you know it, he'll drug you and hurt you," Dev stated as a matter of fact. "You remember Cassie from the hockey team? She got knocked up by some older guy."

"I thought she moved to another town," Young Zara said, nervousness beginning to eclipse her face.

"That's what they're telling everyone but it's not the whole truth," Dev cut her off. "You better watch out with that guy. He looks like the type."

"You met him like five minutes ago," she shot back. "You don't even know his name."

"The less I know the better. I don't wanna get involved if Mom ever finds out that you're hanging out with some rando after school instead of studying," he muttered bitterly.

"Joke's on you. He helped me pass Literature, asshole," Older Zara quipped. "Forgot how sorely disappointed I was with you, Dev."

When they got home, the whole house was filled with the aroma of dinner. _"(Where did you go at this time?)"_ her mom unfailingly interrogated as soon as the two of them set foot in the house. _"(Don't you have the sense to be home on time? The angels come and go and you're still out. No wonder you're cursed.)"_ Zara remembered that. Her mother always had this belief that angels visited the house at sunset so everything had to be in order by then – the house had to be clean and everyone had to be home. It was a strange superstition. Young Zara bit back a rude response and simply made towards her room on the first floor.

Already, Zara was feeling the grim vibes of the place. The house was like a machine meant to produce nothing but the worst thoughts in her head – a psychological torture device. The world never saw who Zara was within these walls. The world never cared about what it turned her into. Day after day, year after year, being told you were nothing but flawed and that there was no redemption – the walls chipped away a little every time. And that didn't even include the beatings. _There's no return,_ the sharp voice uttered in her ear.

Within a second, it was daytime again. Zara was immediately transported to her school, another reason to recoil in disgust. The warm colours of the hallways were nauseating, coming second only to the people she recognised. People she hated for no reason other than the fact that they were so… one-dimensional. They all liked the same music, talked about the same things – she never found much of a common ground with them. Fourteen-year old Zara never really had the motivation to try either.

As her younger self walked down the hallways, she noticed how people looked at her. It's that look people had when looking at a strange creature, like something that wasn't supposed to be there. Momentary as it was, their accusatory glares always seemed to notice her before anything else. Those brief milliseconds invaded her thoughts. What were they thinking about her? Why did they look at her like that? Did they know too, that she was to be a servant of Hell? _Shame on you,_ their gazes seemed to convey. Every step down the hallway was a walk of shame. Young Zara clutched her books close to her chest and stayed close to the walls wherever she went. She barely uttered a single word to anyone. _The sparks of your fire,_ the whisper said.

After school, she went around to the back, where a group of people who she used to call 'friends' hung out often. There were three of them, dressed in black from head to toe and smoking cigarettes right outside school property. "Look, it's Bible Bitch," the one with heavy eyeliner smirked as she greeted Zara.

"Oh, fuck you, Karen," Older Zara cussed. There was a time not long before when Zara would carry a bible with her, hoping to read it in between classes. "Not these idiots…" She remembered what was going to happen and she was not looking forward to watching it unfold.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," another darker girl hissed. This one was Luna and she had a tight weave that left her long dark locks flowing down her shoulders at all times. "You think you're edgy enough?"

"Yeah- yes," Young Zara stuttered, puffing up her chest.

"I don't know guys," the token male spoke up. His hair was gelled up in spikes and he had a sharp, crooked nose that had its own backstory. They called him Scooter because he used to zip around on a scooter everywhere he went. Soon, he'd found himself scooting into a bad neighbourhood and became an apprentice to a drug dealer. "Doesn't sound convincing to me. Chickened out of takin' a puff, last time I checked."

"It- it was new to me," Young Zara held her head high. "I can do it now."

"Pass," Karen sighed. Her pale eyes rolled in their black-defined sockets in boredom. "I mean, look at you. You're dressed like every mom in this town came together to pick your outfit. And what's that in your hand?"

She looked down at the hard-cover in her palm. "It's just a book," she argued. The three of them got up from where they were seated and approached her ominously, like vultures circling dead meat.

"You're such a good girl, aren't you?" Karen hissed. "No better than the Christian dog-pile you were born in."

Young Zara trembled visibly, holding her Nietzschean armour close to her chest for comfort. She tried to back away but they closed in on her, leaving no room for escape. "I bet you couldn't talk to a boy without crying about it to Jesus later," Luna giggled. She was much larger than Zara, which made her jibe more intimidating.

"Well she's talkin' to me," Scooter chimed in with a serpentine smile of his own. "Give her some credit, guys." He looked at her hungrily, eyes sparing no inch.

"I think she could use a good ol' fashioned makeover," Karen raised her eyebrows at her friends.

"Yeah, yeah, I think that could work," Luna nodded at the proposition. "You can hang with us. Just need to work on that make-up, change up your wardrobe a little bit…"

"I don't think you're convincing Scoot," Karen pointed out.

Scooter huffed. "Isn't all that fleece bothering you guys?" he fanned himself. "It's getting a little hot in here."

"Uh oh, Scoot's gettin' wild. You better tame him with a kiss," Luna taunted Zara. Young Zara was speechless, stammering half-responses.

"I don't bite," Scoot flirted.

"Take off your jacket," Karen ordered.

"Wow, Kay-Kay, you don't hold back," Scoot smirked at his friend's forthrightness.

"I bet it's a National Treasure under there," Karen grinned devilishly. "Show us."

This was when Young Zara decided it would be best to bolt out of there. Yet, a foot in her path tripped her and she fell ceremoniously on her back with a yelp. The book fell out of her hand and Karen threw it a few feet away as she and Luna held her down. "N- No! Let me go!" she protested, writhing under their grasp. Scoot knelt down and began undoing the buttons on her jacket.

Older Zara found her breaths becoming heavier. She never quite realised how helpless she'd looked in that situation. It seemed silly to her now that she'd ever tried to get in with these people but back then, she was starting to lose it. She'd stopped caring about what anything meant, which inevitably led her to spiral down a path of bad decisions. It was always one disaster after another. And then, everything froze before her.

The whispers could be heard again. This time there were many of them coming from a single direction. " _Will you be reborn?"_ one said. Zara staggered towards the sound. A few hesitant steps later, she realised it came from about where her feet were. She looked down. There, her book lay flipped open. She knelt to touch it, a finger nearing the black lines of text. Within a second, sparks erupted and consumed the book in flames. She flinched. But almost as soon as it started, the fire died, leaving a single section of the page intact in the embers. Zara picked it up.

"… _must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame,"_ the line read. _"How can you rise again if you have not first become ashes?"_

The whispers repeated the line like a chant in her head, filling her every thought. She clutched the sides of her head as the voices spared no second. She could feel nothing and know nothing as long as the voices droned on like a drumbeat, again and again, in her mind. Slowly, the whispers became statements, the statements became commands, and the commands became shouts. There was no escape. "Agh!" Zara let out an exasperated grunt. She dared open her eyes. A gun lay before her.

"Hold still!" a smirk sounded behind her. It was Scooter, still struggling to open up her jacket. Zara tensed, body shifting naturally as she stood up. This time, there was no apprehension in her composure. A newfound confidence seemed to wash over her in a wave. It felt hypnotic. _You know what to do,_ the voice said. She pointed the gun at his head. The trigger went off effortlessly. It was as easy as a breath. Blood trickled down the gravel like a microcosmic flood.

Then the strangest thing happened. The girls screamed. Blood spattered on their faces had left them in an unmatched hysteria. "You think this is funny, don't you, Lucifer?" Zara said out loud. Her eyebrows dipped and her chin tightened in a frown. And they could see her now too. With no moment to waste, she emptied a bullet into each of their heads. Young Her only turned around and bolted as fast as she could, not noticing her standing there. As she watched the result of what she'd done, nothing but a calmness came over her. Her predator eyes rested on the backdoor of the hallway that wove through the school.

" _Will you be reborn?_ "

When she busted through the double doors, the hallway was bustling with conversations. She didn't even hesitate. They fell one by one, their scarlet spray liberating Zara from humanity. Again, there were screams. They tried to run away from her. With a single thought, all the doors shut by themselves, denying escape. She came upon a fire alarm. Its red exterior glowed almost blindingly, a stark contrast to the dull colours of the school. _There's gasoline in the pipes._ She pulled the lever. Sure enough, it rained gasoline upon all of them. "Ignite," Zara commanded with a thought. The school became a palace of fire.

Their souls screamed in pain. Screamed as their vocal chords burnt. Screamed as their flesh tore away from their bones. The fire consumed everything. Every thud of her heart was a relief. Zara felt new blood flowing through her veins. Nothing she had ever experienced in her whole life had felt this electric.

" _Will you be reborn?"_

"YES!" Zara yelled her acceptance. Tears of joy stung her eyes and she held out her arms in a pose of salvation. Heat bore down on her, burying her in a spiritual grave. The fire climbed up her legs and her torso until it eventually covered her head, donning her like a suit. It burnt. It hurt like hell. She screamed at first, but soon realised she had nothing to fear. Trust eased her muscles.

" _Then rise from the ashes of the past!"_

There was still work to be done. Zara marched down the hallway. A thick cloud of vapour from her burning flesh accompanied her at all times. Though most people had been reduced to piles of ashes on the floor, some were still writhing or attempting to run away. Zara shot them. With every bullet that she emptied into them, her heart quivered with a rush like no other. It was certainly better than cocaine.

When she left the school, her body practically floated like a feather down a familiar path – a burning feather, that is. Tendrils of fire reached out from her body. She felt invincible. Though she felt her singed flesh begging to be ripped out, the expectation of power was far more overpowering. She would become something greater. She knew it. The grey walls couldn't come into view soon enough.

" _Cleanse yourself and you will be complete."_

She kicked open the front door. They were waiting for her. Her mother, father and brother all sat at the couch in front of a coffee table. Their eyes were still except for her mother's, which steered towards her. "We are saved in the eyes of Jesus," her mother droned with her hoarse, entranced voice.

"Then say hello to Him for me," Zara snapped. She took aim and put one in between her mother's eyes. Her father – largely an absent, non-vocal figure – was next. When it came time to deal with her brother, she paused.

"But I didn't do anything," his tear-streaked face pleaded.

"Exactly." The gun went off again. They were all gone. They meant nothing anymore. The flames crawled from her body to the walls and climbed to the ceiling, engulfing the house as they did the school. Zara could feel the past dissolving. It was like the back of her mind was being rewritten, never to bother her again. Now it was just her and Satan. And maybe that was fine. She waited for the simulation to end. Lights fell from the ceiling and things that burned became charred. "Um, hello? I think we're done here."

And then she heard a sound. It was soft. It sounded like someone crying. Zara followed it and stopped before her bedroom door. She nudged the door open. Through the burning threshold, a clean, unharmed room came into view. The burning house was like a picture frame and the room the picture. The mild pink bed was neatly made. And sitting on the floor against the bed, she found her younger self sobbing. But she wasn't alone.

Zara held up the firearm, ready to shoot. " _Destroy the past and you will be free."_

Jack held the crying girl in his arms, whispering words of comfort and rubbing her back. He was tender and patient, even wiping the tears from her cheeks as they flowed. Young Zara wrapped her arms around him as she dug her head into his shoulder. She remembered this moment. During that little scuffle with Scooter and friends, it was Jack who'd come to scare them off and bring her home. Now there was a radius of a faint heavenly glow around Jack and Young Zara, bathing the sacred scene of their friendship in light.

The rush, the ecstasy, that left her practically light-headed mere moments earlier stopped abruptly. The voices pulsated in her head and for a moment, she felt like she was losing balance. The voices had to be forceful to overcome a barrier so strong. A barrier made of love. The only good thing she ever had.

Jack's head turned to face her slowly. His eyes contorted in pain, expressing nothing but betrayal. "You shouldn't have to give up who you are," his voice was soft and tear-choked. _That's something you'd say, isn't it?_ Zara thought. At once, the pain of the fire reached her again and she croaked a grunt of immense agony. There was only one way to make the pain stop.

" _Will you be reborn?"_

She pulled the trigger.


	72. Rebirth

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Chapter 72: Rebirth**

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 4.01pm**_

Zara had eyes on the demon. He was patrolling back and forth down the hallway that guarded the staircase. She watched him from her cover around the corner right next to the stairs, shoulder to the wall and torso closer to the dust-strewn floor than a fully upright position. It was a good thing she'd pulled up her mask – it would have been impossible to remain quiet with the dusty air that tickled her nose. The demon came up to the corner. His gait teased an entry around her cover. Zara tensed up. But that contingency was prepared for too. Sam gave her a reassuring look from his corner opposite hers. But luckily, that wasn't necessary. The demon sauntered to a pause a few feet away from the turn and resumed his trajectory back the way he came.

He turned to go back the way he came and instantly froze in his step.

"Howdy, partner," Dean's gruff voice sounded as he shot the demon a goofy grin. His shoulders were sturdy and palms empty as he stared down the demon from way down the hallway. The demon simply mumbled a grunt, face contorting into a scowl as his eyes flashed black. Without so much as a retort, he marched to fulfil his demonic imperative. Dean stood invitingly, not needing to move. As soon as the demon was about to feel the rush of his kill, a stab in the back stopped him. Sam yanked out the angel blade. Another dead demon lay at their feet.

"Should I get you a cowboy hat?" Sam teased, towering over the corpse.

"Hey, cowboy is an attitude, not just a pretty hat," Dean defended. "It's a way of living." Sam huffed a smile, suppressing a sarcastic shake of the head. "Where's Zara?"

Sam looked around him. The air was still. No sign of her. He cautiously checked around the corner she was in mere moments earlier. "Nothing," his eyes widened as he reported. Then his eyes roved downwards, spotting something. "Dean."

The elder one came over to where he was, apple-green irises caught in puzzlement, and saw what captured his brother's attention. A speck of blood.

Blood dripped like a sparse curtain from the gash on Zara's lower arm. Someone slapped her awake. At once, she felt the stinging sensation on her right cheek and knew for certain that her mask had been taken away, as had her hoodie, leaving her bare in her grey top. The taste of iron filled her mouth. Her fighting instincts came to life as her arms jerked. But they merely wrestled against the tightly bound ropes around her wrist, securely tied to the armrests of a chair.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," an annoying Southern drawl rang in her ears.

"Ugh…" she groaned as her vision grew clearer. She struggled to make out his face but she already knew she hated him, whoever he was. And then the mullet came into view. "Ugh, gross."

"Rise and shine, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna teach you some respect," Martin cupped her jaw with a coarse palm. It was him – the idiot demon from nightmares long past.

Zara's gaze flickered past him to another set of eyes that watched her with amusement. "Kill me now," she dryly said to Crowley.

"When there's still so much fun to be had?" Crowley seductively rebutted. He gestured to Martin with just a look and the subordinate stepped back. Martin maintained a hungry smirk aimed at her. "You've been quite the naughty thing, haven't you?"

"If that's what you prefer," Zara raised an eyebrow. Her bleeding lip made for a diabolical smile. She noticed the large room they were in. Light streamed in through grime-coated windows. There was a door far in front of her, obscured from view by her captors, and another one off to her side.

"Ah, there's that seduction I remember. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you might just die," Crowley's lips twitched up on one side. "Tell me, what does Lucifer like? Has he lowered his standards now that his beloved is gone? Or are you just the appetiser?"

"Fuck you," she cussed. "You have no right to even say his name."

"Such loyalty. I'm almost jealous. Yet I do console myself… yes," he stroked his salt-and-pepper scruff with a hand in contemplation. "Your side has the throne but ours has the numbers. And the numbers are quite sexy too."

"Really? With him?" Zara gestured with her head towards Martin. "Hillbilly Joe is, like, a 2 _at most._ And you're telling _me_ about low standards?"

"I'll turn your face into a 2, bitch," Martin made towards her and in no time, his knuckles came crashing down on her cheek. One grunt and a disoriented gaze later, Zara felt the swelling on her cheek.

"Be careful now, don't want her flying back into Satan's arms so soon," Crowley advised. "Until he's back in his box, she'll be our _living_ guest." His grey eyes regarded Zara again. "Esther told me about the abuses she suffered under your boss. Hell, she didn't even have to tell me. I could see it," an unexpected steel sharpened his voice. "Rest assured, justice will be done."

"Did she tell you about me?" Zara croaked in return. More blood leaked from her mouth and began to dry on her chin, making it feel all weird and sticky when she spoke. "Did she tell you everything?"

"She did," Crowley nodded. His lips poised millimetres apart as he took a quick inhale, "But that won't save you."

"But you know what will?" Martin smirked, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. "My di-"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," Crowley warned, rolling his eyes.

"He probably couldn't finish anyone properly," Zara jibed. In an instant, she felt a sting on her other cheek. On top of that, he dug a thumb into the gash on her arm. She winced. That was when she felt the comforting approach of two life-signs in her active angel sight. Zara's expression flipped like a switch. Her hard gaze turned soft, her lip quivered and she exhaled audibly. She suddenly let out a yelp and then cried like a frightened little girl. She forced out a hoarse scream, the loudest she could summon.

"Huh?" Martin recoiled in bewilderment. The life signs drew close at a faster rate. They appeared at the doorway. Zara heaved heavy breaths, shrinking in her chair before inevitably meeting their shocked expressions.

"Ah, boys. So that's who's been vandalising my property," Crowley greeted. "Where's Feathers? Really missed the broken halo."

"Long time no stabbing, dick-bag," Dean snarled. Zara looked at him through a busted face and he had to admit that she looked quite pitiful in that moment. Seeing that, he and Sam made for the demons with their angel blades. With a flick of the finger, Crowley sent them flying against the wall, assaulting a surface that already suffered a generous flaying of its paint. More demons entered and roughly handled them to engage cuffs around their wrists. Outnumbered, the boys' attempt at a fight was brief. With a defeated thud, the Winchesters were shoved onto the ground next to Zara and tied to a pillar.

"Find the angel. He's gotta be here somewhere," Crowley ordered. With a quick nod, demons armed with angel blades set off in some unknown direction. Martin went off with them. Zara's heart briefly skipped a beat at the thought of Jack being faced with so many demons. She cursed at herself for daring to worry.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered to Zara. She nodded meekly. Crowley looked between them suspiciously, eyes narrowed. A realisation of his own flashed briefly in his mind.

"My, my, you've made some powerful friends," he mocked. "Your knights in shining armour, I presume?"

"Up yours, douchebag," Zara snapped at him. "Whatever you have planned, I'm gonna stop you."

"Let me get this straight. You waltz in here, knowing full well that I've put a price on your head, just to tell me that?" he puzzled, amused by her gritty look. Her eyes, though starting to swell on one side, wanted to pierce through him. "Your only back-up was defeated in thirty seconds flat."

"What d'you want her for anyway?" Sam chimed in from his position on the floor.

"Nothing you'd understand, Velma," he shut him off. "This is the part that gets too high-brow for your little hunter brains to comprehend."

"Humour me," Sam beckoned.

"Do you think of me as some kind of Disney villain?" Crowley frowned. Dean tilted his head as if to consider the possibility. "I'm not gonna reveal my plans to you just because you're tied up." He paused for a moment to think before continuing. "But I'll tell you this: Believe it or not, the both of you are more useful to me alive than dead. So if you keep your pretty mouths shut and stay put, I'll let you boys go, unharmed. How's that sound?"

"Pass," Dean answered almost immediately. "What'll happen to her?"

"A small price to pay for world peace," Crowley simply said. "We're on the same side, Squirrel. Can't you see that?"

"No," he said rather quizzically. "We'll never be on the same side."

"I suppose perspective isn't really your strength," Crowley considered.

"Wait, what do you mean, ' _world peace'_?" Sam asked. The look of pure bafflement on his face was comical to the demon, but he said nothing of what he thought Zara was putting them through.

"It's right under your nose and you don't even see it," Crowley said as he stared right through Sam. "The freakin' Devil is on the loose and you Yahoos are sitting ducks about it, that's what! Does this not seem like an emergency to anyone else?"

"Of course it does," Sam rebutted, his eyebrows passionately knotted. "But what are _you_ gonna do about it?"

"Well I have one of his most prized possessions," he gestured with his head towards Zara. "And I'm gonna roast it right before his eyes. That is, after I've subdued him."

"You? You're gonna take on the Devil?" Dean pressed. "Sammy, that sound like the Crowley we know?"

"No, not at all," Sam agreed. "The Crowley we know would hide in a fancy mansion while someone else did his dirty work. So who's getting down in the mud?"

"Whoever's buying me, that's for sure," Zara supplemented. "Who is it, Crowley?"

Crowley regarded her with a cold neutrality. She was playing them like violins right before his eyes. He couldn't help but admire that. "You'll know soon enough. But I have to say…" he reached into his coat and brandished her blade. "… thanks for the gift."

"Don't cut yourself," Zara hissed at him. The very sight of the blade in his grubby hands irked her. She couldn't wait to stab him with it. Crowley ran a finger along its grind, admiring its finish. His pondering eyes wandered to her flesh.

"If you say so." He rested the tip on the side of her neck. Zara retreated as far back into her seat as she could. That didn't help. The contact was like a brush of a feather but the sting like fire. She winced.

"Hey!" another voice sounded. Crowley paused, turning towards the intruder. Jack appeared, fists clenched and eyes resolute. Ser Adler was poised on his right shoulder like an all-seeing eye. "Are you Mr Crowley?"

"And who might you be?" Crowley casually opened up his posture to welcome the stranger.

Jack's eyes flickered between him and the three apprehended humans. _Don't get angry… don't get angry…_ he chanted to himself. Rule One – don't go all nuclear. He took a deep breath. "Jack," he asserted, chest puffing.

"An angel who doesn't go by his God-given name. A rare specimen, indeed," Crowley mused. "Where'd you hunks find him anyway? He's prettier than all of you."

"Let. Them. Go," Jack ordered. In the pale light streaming into the room, the green of his eyes was most prominent. It seemed to glisten even from across the room. A subtle shadow etched itself in the parallel space between his jaw and cheekbone, framed only by a lock of his long, dark hair.

"Or… you'll… kill me, is that it? Well here's the thing, Princess," Crowley began. He held up the archangel sword. "I've got an archangel's meat cleaver. So let's see you try."

Jack regarded the sword. He remembered it – how his mother wielded it with precision, how much power coursed through it when she hurled it at someone who would hurt them. It was no ordinary weapon. It was a weapon of might. "Okay, okay, how about… we don't fight," he proposed. He held a hand cautiously in front of him to signal that he was no danger. "You're a businessman, right? Let's make a deal."

"No," the Winchesters grumbled simultaneously from their positions on the floor. Jack simply looked at all of them – they seemed positively helpless and the demon was holding a sharp blade near Zara's throat. His last sentence had sent a spike of alarm through the Winchesters – never had a single sentence held so much of a guarantee that things would end badly. Sam, who'd been quietly fiddling with his jacket through the cuffs, finally managed to pull out a lock pick. He tried to be fast yet silent. If there was anything good about the angel's daredevil pitch, it was that it served as a distraction.

"Jack, no," Zara called out from her chair. A patch of blood contorted with her eyebrows as she nestled them into a confused frown. "What're you doing?"

"Go on," Crowley beckoned. Now _this_ was truly interesting. His lips curved up on one side.

"Well… um…" Jack stuttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You…" he passively pointed a finger at Crowley. "… want… something. You want… an alliance, right? With the pagans. Isn't that why you're here? And you only think you want Zara because _they_ want her, for… some reason," he coughed. "But I can tell you that uh, that's not what you want. What you _really_ really want." His eyebrows raised so certainly. _Maintain eye contact._ _Smile for confidence._

"Oh, then, go on. Tell me what I want. What I _really really_ want," Crowley asked in return, amused.

"Yeah, I'll tell you what you want, what you _really really_ want," the angel stammered. Dean rolled his eyes into the back of his head. "Why subordinate yourself to _their_ interests when- when _you_ can come out on top instead? Hmmm?" Jack nodded convincingly. "If you hand Zara over, you'll be their little bitch for life. They'll keep expecting handouts from you. What are you even getting in return anyway? An army? Please. That's not gonna help you defeat all of Hell. So I propose…" he puffed up his shoulders and opened up his arms in a wide pose. "… a bait-and-switch."

The demon's eyes narrowed but he had to admit, Jack had his attention. "And how might I do that, angel?"

"Jack. Stop," Zara pointedly whispered at him. She was staring daggers at him but that didn't seem to have an effect. By this point, Sam was yanking at the tension wrenches with his hands in an awkward position but with a few more pulls, he managed to unlock the cuffs. Once his wrists were free, undoing Dean's cuffs became easier.

"You're throwing in with pagan Gods. Surely they have something better to offer you than their friendship. I mean, where are all their cool stabby-shooty things at? That's what I'd want to know," Jack tapped a finger against his forehead as he flashed a smug smile. "I bet, if you asked nicely, they'd hand over some weapons, huh? Or better yet, you'd have leverage over them."

"You have all the makings of a crossroads demon," Crowley quipped. Jack grinned widely, impressed with himself. "But I was the _King_ of the Crossroads. Your little spiel won't win me over. See, you're saying all these nice things but you're not actually offering me anything."

"Or am I?" Jack tilted his head, tempting the demon with doubt. "Your partners, the Hindu gods, don't they have nukes? Something called a Brahmastra? A weapon rumoured to be able to destroy the universe? But of course, it's pagan – it's cheap goods. Doesn't do exactly as advertised. But I bet it can still do some _real_ damage. You get your hands on one of those, and you'll be a mothafuckin pimp, dude."

Crowley stared at some arbitrary spot as he considered the possibilities. "Getting warmer… so what you're saying is… I should let Zara go and bargain my way into getting one of these weapons… oh, like a _bait-and-switch_ ," he emphasised the term, nodding agreeably.

"Exactly!" Jack beamed.

"But without the bait," Crowley finished with suspicious eyes targeting the angel. Jack's smile faded. "Nice try."

Dean let out an exhale so dense it could have made a dent on cement. "This is such a shitfest…" he grumbled to Sam.

"When you put it like that, you make it sound bad," Jack grimaced. Crowley sighed. Seeing that, the angel knew he was starting to lose his audience. His expression grew sombre as he continued, "But I can make things happen. I always keep my end of the bargain. And I can get things done without people noticing."

"So _you_ want to help me steal a mighty weapon from the Hindu gods?" Crowley huffed, head cynically tipped as a hand dug into his coat pocket. "Just for a broken vessel of an archangel?"

Jack's eyes flickered to Zara momentarily. "Yes," he held his chin up high.

"You do realise that this is a bad deal for you? And that's coming from _me_ ," the demon said.

"I don't care," Jack resolutely said. "I'll do anything."

"Hm, I do love the sound of that," Crowley confessed.

"Jack, please, listen to me. Don't do this," Zara pleaded. What was this idiot thinking? Not only could she handle herself, but she sure as hell wasn't gonna let Crowley get his hands on something as powerful as a Brahmastra. "There is no need for any of this."

"I'm good at getting things," Jack declared, face cold with a graveness atypical of him. "I can get you anything you want."

"Can you get me Lucifer's head?" Crowley asked with a playful dip of the eyebrows. That caught Jack off guard. By now, the Winchesters were both working on the ropes, trying to cut free with a pocket knife. Seeing that, the angel realised that all he needed was to stall a little more.

"Uhm…" he stumbled.

"Didn't think so. You're just some punk-ass angel. Lucifer could wipe you out with the sole of his boot," Crowley stated as a matter-of-fact. "But you know what _will_ ruffle Satan's feathers? This." He held up the archangel blade. "This is the only real thing that stands a chance against Lucifer. Maybe you should have a little taste of it."

As he said that, his demonic goons rushed the angel from behind in an attempt to hold him down. Though every instinct told Jack to fight, he remembered Death's command – fight like an ordinary angel, not like an archangel. Admittedly, it was starting to get difficult to obey this, considering that a very powerful _archangel_ blade was headed his way. Luckily, the Winchesters grappled with the ropes hard enough and broke free. Just at that moment, he switched to fight mode, burning demons inside-out and parrying them with a disarmed angel blade. That gave them enough of a distraction so that Sam could cut Zara free and Dean could retrieve their angel blades.

"Not so fast," Crowley snarled as he flung Sam away with just a hand. Through the skirmish, Martin managed to find his way back to his boss. "Don't let anyone get her. Take her away."

A crooked grin lit up Martin's face. It was all Zara saw before he struck her so hard she lost consciousness.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

A raspy moan broke free from her core. Zara lay on the ground, squirming in agony. She pulled a hand away to reveal a thick, shiny coat of blood on her trembling hand. Pain shook her in waves, emanating from a spot in her abdomen. It was the same spot where she'd been impaled before. Strange how she'd woken up in the same darkness she fell into when she'd just experienced one of her memories fully intact. But this time, things were different. A strange energy surged through her. Once she recognised it, the feeling intensified. Her heart thudded with an anticipation she could not pinpoint. An excited shudder spiked her veins. It almost felt like… a thirst. Her head almost grew dizzy with the whirlwind of power.

That gave her somewhat of a leeway to get up. Her injury was not so debilitating anymore, though the feeling of pain remained. Walls faded into view around her from the curtain of darkness. She stood in an empty room, surrounded by plain white walls with cracks abundant. There was a deafening silence ringing in her ears. She wondered if she was meant to wait. But seconds ticked by and the ringing silence remained. Her hand ventured a grip around the door knob. She twisted and pulled.

The immediate scene that greeted her was blood. A bloody message on the wall of a hallway outside that simply said, "Survive". Zara gulped. The only way to go was forward.

She stepped out into the cement hallway. It snaked forward endlessly. Some junctures were visible. But mostly, it seemed to lead into a deep abyss. The narrow space between the walls that flanked her could be bridged by the span of her fully-extended arms. She did not trust these walls. Every inch forward that she moved heightened the pinpricks on her back and neck. Turning right at one of these junctures, she came upon a door. She put an ear to the door. Nothing. Still, she was ready.

She gripped the knob tight, hoping to enter as silently as possible. The lights in the hallway flickered above her. A quiet growling resounded in her ear. She'd barely turned when strong, thin arms wrapped around her and yanked her off her feet. With a shriek, Zara twisted and wrestled with the arms. They were so dark that they appeared charred. And the fingers were sharp like blades. She'd managed to propel herself backwards, knocking the creature back against the wall. That loosened the grip around her and she managed to break free.

When she turned to face the creature, it too had regained balance. She'd barely registered its sharp teeth and manic eyes when it launched itself forward. Instinct drove her to react within a split second. A clenched fist flew into his jaw. Zara had nothing but surprise to see the creature knocked back. _That… that worked?_ With no time to waste, she punched him again. With a disgruntled groan, the creature fell to the floor. She got on top of him, sitting on his burnt charcoal chest, and began pummelling his face with punches until her knuckles turned red, and then some more. Every punch felt more satisfying than the last. The anticipation she'd felt building inside her earlier only released itself in a cool wave, washing her with new life.

She was sure she heard bones cracking. Whether it was hers, or the creature's, didn't matter. Every exhale elevated her to a new level of euphoria. Soon enough, his arms were limp and moved no more. Her body felt like a balloon, floating and being pumped full of freshness. Her head swung back. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she looked towards the ceiling to ground herself from all the euphoria. She got up and traced a bloody hand on the wall as she stumbled around the corner. And then it hit her again.

Like the same rod was shoved through her again, pain spiked through her abdomen. Zara yelped as she fell to the floor and clutched her body in a fetal position. This time it felt like something was moving inside her. Whatever it was, it prodded and sloshed inside her guts, stretching and compressing her organs. With every breath she released was a whimper – she couldn't help but be a slave to its desires. She could feel the blood leaking into the crevices in her body, even spraying out of her wound at the thing's whims and pooling in her mouth. The pain grew so unbearable at one point that she arched her back to yelp and thrash about. In that strange struggle between forces unknown and her body's integrity, she longed for death. How could any single experience feel so absolute that death was the only possible succession? But she was sure that that was what she felt. Absolution.

Blood trickled into her eyes from her skull. Now it was all she could see, feel and taste. "I will not die here," she thought to herself, more of a vow than a statement of fact. "I will have faith."

Crimson tears streaked her cheeks as she pulled herself up and moved forward. Drops of amber trailed behind her as she trudged down the hallway. This time she was ready. Ready for more of those monsters to come at her. Each scuffle was a trial-and-error. Punching where it worked and where it didn't, getting kneed in the gut when she couldn't see through the blood – yet her grit won. There were torn limbs and ripped chests. Soon, a knife came into the picture. The trail of blood was an exhibition of Zara's newfound strength. Each body lay like a monument, each mutilation worse than the last. She soon became creative and to detail the things she found herself doing would require a lengthy autopsy report.

But rest assured, a crooked smile brightened her face. The next time a wave of pain burst from within her, she simply laughed. She fell back onto the floor and laughed hysterically. A bright light burst out from her solar plexus with the radiance of the sun itself. It was absolute in its warmth and strength. When Zara stood up again, it was like a torchlight showing her the path to take. Unquestioningly, she put one foot in front of the other.

Familiar stone walls came into view. She limped from all the blood she'd lost and the deepening of the wound. The blood that was still coursing through her veins grew hotter from the light in her soul. It became so warm that there was no space for thought itself. Just the feeling of heat swarming her head like a warm bath for her brain. She recognised the figures standing along the hallways. They stared at her wordlessly and at the bloody knife she held. Zara kept her eyes peeled, expecting one of them to just jump out at her and attempt to claw her eyes out. But they did not. They were smiling. They lined the hallways like they were meant to greet her. And they did. Demons, she realised. In their black suits and baring their black eyes. They smiled and they clapped the further down the hallway she went.

At some point, she couldn't help but fall to her knees again. It felt like the further she made it, the more intense everything began to feel. As much as she tried to get up again, the resistance was far too great. A huge weight seemed to be pulling her down from deep within her. She'd only managed to stagger a few feet forward before falling down again. The effort was so exhausting that every muscle within her seemed to be conspiring against her. She broke down into tears again and saw only red. It felt like she was so close but yet so far from her destination.

Determined to make it to the end, her gait was a mixture of crawling and staggering and hurling herself forward. By now sores had appeared on her skin – on her arms and on her feet – from the sheer friction of pulling herself against the rough stone floor. Sores so deep she didn't even care anymore. Just another opening from which her life flowed out of her. Death seemed to overcome her body but her soul was more alive than ever. And finally, amidst the audience of demons, she managed to find the large, rustic double-doors. No one came forward to help her. They weren't supposed to. They simply watched as she leaned against the door. But her weight alone wasn't sufficient to open them.

Blood-crusted fingertips rested against the doors. So generously, the blood leaked from her palm like freshly-flayed skin. All her will was summoned into making the doors do as she wanted. Her resolve was felt by everyone present. They bathed in the glory of the blood-soaked woman with the iron destiny and Hell-blessed strength. Her victory was theirs and their support hers. The doors finally gave way and she fell forward ceremoniously into the throne room.

Zara felt an overpowering buzzing from within her head. Her eyelids fought to stay shut but she didn't grant them the right. Still on her knees, she could only crawl forward into the centre. Through her blurry vision, a tall blond figure got up from the throne and swaggered down the stairs.

"You made it," he said. He huffed a smile, which then evolved into a delighted chuckle. "I knew you would."

Zara was shivering like a leaf at his feet. When she looked up at him, she was completely unrecognisable. Her sclerae were completely obscured by scarlet, making her look almost demonic. Her face and body were covered in grime and dirt, not to mention sores and wounds and bruises. She looked like a corpse beaten to death and then some more, save the light that blared from her core.

"She's very strong," Abaddon chimed in from beside him.

"There could be no doubt about it," Lucifer remarked. He knelt down to her level and held her cheek in his palm. She looked absolutely befuddled and dazed, yet hugely unburdened by his touch. He wiped away a scarlet drop that escaped from her eye with a thumb. Gently, he laid her down on her back and she yielded to his command. With a gesture, he signalled Abaddon to hand to him the final piece. The demons gathered around eagerly, excited to watch everything unfold. "Today, you are all witness to a rebirth," he announced as he held the bronze hawk in his palm. "Zara dies as a human belonging to the earth. But she awakens as a human belonging to us – as a creature of Hell."

The demons cheered and yelled dark blessings. Lucifer laid the hawk on her solar plexus and nudged open the gateway to her soul. That pure light – the creation of God – rang with a brightness unknown to Hell. And in that light, Lucifer nestled the hawk within her soul. It was a part of her forever.

* * *

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 5.16pm**_

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he caught sight of Crowley hurling his brother against a wall. His grip around the angel blade tightened. His arms grew more forceful, swinging harder and faster to create an unimpeded path to his brother. That was one of the many things that forced Jack to consider the stakes.

Dean, on one hand, fighting to keep Sam unharmed. Crowley, on the other, waiting for the right moment to impale him with the archangel blade while the demons held him down, far outnumbering what a normal angel could handle. And in the back, some ugly-ass demon stealing Zara away. _Oh no you don't._ A deep frown settled on his face. With barely a breath, he sent the demons flying away, some hurled out the windows in a sudden burst of energy that broke the sound barrier. He straightened up to his full height in the shower of glass fragments, bearing over the demon. The sight of that froze even Crowley, who was so sure moments earlier that this angel was an easy target.

One of the demons Jack propelled away knocked into another who was fighting Dean. Taking his chance, the elder Winchester rushed over to Sam. "Hey, hey, Sammy," Dean whispered as he patted his brother's shoulder and cheek. Sam stirred awake with a groan. Dean sighed in relief but was more distracted by the sight of the angel.

The demons who lay on the floor simultaneously began thrashing about in a collective seizure. Jack extended his arms to the side as he felt the life stir within them. At once, those demons were forcefully smoked out of their vessels, forming rigid pillars of black smoke above their bodies. Jack's fingers were frozen in a claw-like position as his palms slowly rose, forcing the demonic spirits up with them. Then, he clenched his fist in a swift motion. With that, the black clouds imploded and vanished instantaneously, like they never existed to begin with. Jack fanned away some remnants of smoke before turning to Crowley again, who by now stared with his mouth agape.

"Try me, asshole," Jack challenged with a pointed voice. He held up a palm, ready to annihilate. The tension was heavy between the two of them, what with the amber specks in his hazel eyes hardening like a bright warning.

"Hm," Crowley hefted the blade in his palm. He shifted his weight as if to attack, but disappeared the next instant. Jack flinched, caught in a daze at the empty air where the demon once stood. _Well, that was… easier than expected._

He went over to the Winchesters, who were by now regaining their composures. "Are you okay?" he asked Sam. Sam merely nodded. He was a little disoriented himself, but he knew he'd be fine.

"How did you do that?" Dean pondered despite himself, eyebrows curved in askance.

"Let's stick to important questions, alright? Like 'where's Zara?'. You're welcome, by the way," Jack huffed as he stormed off through the same door he saw Martin leave. Sam and Dean exchanged bewildered looks and took off after him.

"Hey, how'd you know all that stuff about Crowley and the pagans?" Sam called out after him.

"I overheard the demons talking upstairs," Jack simply answered as he walked briskly. "And I may have 'interrogated' them."

The three of them ventured down the hallway, following Jack's lead. Soon enough, the sound of a struggle and a feminine voice came into earshot. That quickened their pace and soon they exited the building. All Sam and Dean saw was the sudden halt in Jack's gait out in the open. They paused at his side to see what had him so dazed.

There, before them, was a van with its backdoors open. The van was empty. But right before the doors, on the floor, was a spectacle unlike any other. "Ah! Let go, stupid bitch!" Martin yelled, voice choked. Zara held his neck in a choke-hold. He seemed to be unable to break out of her strategic grip, a rather pathetic sight for a demon. With a grunt, she smashed his head against the floor of the van. "Agh!" Martin yelped. Dean flinched at the force with which she was capable of doing that. Sam was slightly puzzled but amused. He thought maybe they should help and stepped forward but Jack stopped him.

The angel just watched as Zara brought Martin's head back and smashed it down again, and again, and again. "Agh. Agh. Agh." The demon, being hard to kill, simply grunted and groaned with every hit. The repetitive, unyielding motion, though unsettling, was not alien to either the Winchesters or Jack. It seemed like Zara would never stop until his head broke into half. She could even be close.

Jack found some amusement in that. He might have been unsettled before at Zara's eagerness to torture, but the demon had one of those faces – the kind that he didn't feel guilty for hurting. When he was done watching, Jack marched up to the demon and swung him back by the shoulder to relieve Zara.

"You have a mullet," he angrily growled as he pulled back a clenched fist. " _It's 2012_!"

Jack's punch knocked him face-first into the ground. All riled up by his own outburst, he picked up the demon and punched him more, taking turns on each side of his face.

"Taking things out of their time-" another punch. "Is _not cool_!"

Zara was not ready to let her own disgruntlement go. "He's mine, Jack," she muttered resolutely, prepared to drag the demon around some more.

The humour of their exchange was lost on the elder Winchester, who simply wanted the mission to be declared over. Dean marched forward, plunging an angel blade into Martin's back. Zara, seeing the demon finally burn, let go of the corpse and dusted herself off. "My hero," she dryly said.

"Okay, Ronda, did you think you were gonna wrestle a demon with your bare hands?" Dean questioned, not entirely seriously.

"Look, I have history with this guy. Been waitin' a long time to do that. But you know, whatever. Deep-fry his ass or pot-roast him, he still ends up dead," she shrugged. Dean nodded in understanding.

"You're hurt," Jack observed. He raised two fingers to touch her forehead but she slapped his hand away.

"What the hell was that?!" she yelled at him.

"I'm trying to heal you, woman!" Jack responded with equal exasperation. She slapped his upper arm and he flinched at the suddenness, even if it didn't hurt.

"Making a deal with Crowley?!" she berated him. "I thought even you wouldn't be _that_ much of an idiot."

"I was trying to save you!" he defended himself, face ridden with shock. "Hey, what d'you mean ' _even me_ '?"

She slapped his upper arm a couple more times. "Bad angel. Bad!"

"Okay, okay!" he held her hands to keep her from injuring his ego more. "You're already hurt. Don't hurt yourself more."

"Try me, asshole," she challenged in return. She'd calmed down enough for him to finally heal her proper.

"You wanna roll with us, you gotta be clear on one thing: Demon deals are off-limits. You got that?" Dean lay it down proper.

"Okay, Dad," Jack sighed with a bored look on his face.

"Okay, so, this was a huge waste of time," Sam sighed. "We got jumped, we got next to no clue what Crowley wants and we lost the archangel blade."

"We what?!" Zara panicked. "Oh no." Her eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her. _The blade's lost. Lucifer is going to kill me. Again._ "We need to get it back."

"We will," Jack promised. "And no, this wasn't a complete waste. I got something. While you guys were off, I stumbled upon a very fancy-looking box with all kinds of locks and symbols on it. And if you know me, you know I can't resist me a good lock," he winked at Zara. She rolled her eyes. It brought back memories of breaking into places that they weren't supposed to be in. "And I found this," he brandished an ornament out of thin air. It was some kind of medieval helmet which covered not only the head but also most of the face, leaving holes for the eyes and mouth.

"What is this?" Sam took the helmet into his own hands and inspected it, studying the grooves and etches as he rotated it. "Looks Greek. Why would Crowley want this?"

"Well, I don't think it's because he's into LARP-ing," Dean thought out loud.

Jack audibly huffed in laughter but hesitated at Zara's expression. She had a grave look on her face, like one she'd have during bouts of anxiety attacks. Seeing that, Jack rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. We'll find your blade."

"It's not just a blade," she said rather sombrely. "It's the only thing that's protected me against this God-forsaken world."

"And it's also the only thing that's gonna level the playing field between us and Lucifer," Dean nodded. Jack avoided emoting. "But first things first: there's a Rakshasa waiting to get funky on the dance floor tonight."

"Right, the party," Zara recalled. She folded her arms despondently, eyebrow raised. It seemed so strange to think of letting loose at a time like this, when more important things were at stake. _I should be going after Crowley and ruining his plans to overthrow Lucifer. Instead I'm hunting some punk-ass Rakshasa with Cowboy Winchester. Ugh._

"You guys go ahead. I'll hit the library and see what I can dig up on this," Sam held up the ancient helmet.

"No," Jack firmly said, almost frowning.

"No?" Sam puzzled.

"Sam, it's a VIP party. There's gonna be strippers high as shit on cocaine and so much booze that you'll smell like an Irishman's wet dream for a week. I'm not letting you skip out on this," Jack insisted, face animated with excitement.

"He makes a compelling point," Dean agreed.

"We're not going there to party. It's strictly business," Sam eyed his brother expectantly. "And if we figure out what the hell Crowley wants this for, we'll find him sooner."

"Sam, Sam, please," Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Partying is one of humanity's finest traditions. I mean, you guys find any and every excuse to celebrate. What are we living for if not the finer things in life, huh? And you want to squander this short mortal life on yours in a library? I just won't have it, sir!" he finished with an English flair, sticking his nose up in the air. With those luscious locks of dark hair, he looked like a being from another realm entirely. Dismissively waving his fingers in the air, he said, "Put the helmet away for now. We'll figure it out later."

Zara grew cautious at the sound of 'We'. She just couldn't figure out what it was about him – why he had to show up now of all times offering help. It had to be suspicious, she thought. And him getting close to her was a mighty risk to her cover. She didn't know if regret was the right feeling. Perhaps she should have turned him away after all. _But I'd miss him._

As the young lord dictated, the four of them prettied up for the party. Well, Sam and Dean merely had to change into cleaner clothes. Zara put on the same black dress she'd saved for such occasions with a jacket and Jack… he was dressed up in a fancy full-black suit. When they neared the venue, it was dark enough that the lights from the club seemed to light up the whole street. Zara was clinging onto Sam's elbow, partly because of the concentration it took to walk in a straight line in those heels. She loathed them but Lucifer's voice kept ringing in her head about how no one would take her seriously if she walked like a penguin in heels.

"Hey, we match!" Jack greeted her excitedly at the entrance of the club. He wore that radiant smile he always had. Dean had never known that it was possible for an angel to smile so much, but of course _his_ cheeks wouldn't hurt.

"Yes, Jack, I can see that," Zara answered rather wearily. The old Zara would've jumped into his arms in an instant and linked elbows with him as they barged into the club. But this one didn't give him so much as a smile. In they went, and instantly the loud bass of the trending hits blasted right into them. The club was vibrant and full of life. The four of them settled around a circular high table – one among many, equally surrounded with people. Within no time, they were all clinking pints of beer together. "Drinking with my guardian angel. Sounds about right."

"You know what this reminds me of?" Jack began as he regarded the troves of people around them. "Prom night."

"Your high school prom had strippers?" Dean asked Zara.

"No, we bailed the actual prom. It was too boring," Zara told him. A heavy breath weaved into her lungs and her eyes widened just at the memory of what had happened that night. "Mr Responsible here took me to a bunch of places a seventeen-year old wouldn't normally be allowed."

"I just wanted you to see the world, Zara," Jack smirked. "Am I the best guardian angel or what? Actually, guys, get this: I brought her to a gay strip club and she- hey!"

He cowered when Zara slapped his upper arm, though he remained laughing. "Shh!" she hissed at him. "I thought I told you to never speak of this again!"

"Wha- hey, it was _prom_ night. It was the best night of my life!" Jack defended, pointing his fingers inwards at himself.

"Okay, look, I'm not a teenager anymore. You don't have to say things like that to make me feel better," she chided him. "You're an immortal being. This probably doesn't even come close to the things you've seen."

When she cut him cold like that, Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for Jack. But he didn't want to get between them. Instead, he kept his eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

"That's not true," Jack rebutted. He softened his tone a little to say something more genuine. "Zara, I may have lived a little longer than you, but I mean that sincerely," he struggled to hold her gaze. "Watching over you meant a lot to me. It was more than just a job. I wasn't supposed to get personally involved but I regret nothing."

Zara's cynical gaze bore deep into his eyes but she found no reason to think he was lying. She averted her gaze.

"Target at 2 o' clock," Sam muttered, clearing the tense air. From the alternative entrance came their target, enveloped in a small crowd – a large group of bodyguards, groupies and the main crew themselves.

"He looks more douche-y in person," Dean jibed at the sight of the lead singer entering.

"You haven't heard him open his mouth yet," Jack warned. Their black hair was gelled in spikes and bangs like a 2000s nu-metal music video. The eyeliner was just enough that it could be recognised in the famous pained glare that all these emo rock bands liked having. They wore matching suits, classy enough for the occasion. Danny, the lead singer, had a wry smile which, with his pointed chin and thickly coiffured bangs, made him look like the twink brother of Edward Scissorhands. As the hunters watched, the crew sauntered over to a high table right next to theirs. "Hey Danny," Jack greeted, attempting politeness.

Danny greeted him with a lift of the head. "Jack," his deep voice was a surprise considering his thin stature. "I heard your band made it into the line-up but I thought they made a mistake. I had to call the organiser to make sure."

Danny broke out into a faux chuckle. "Nice to see you too, Danny. Keep it classy," Jack snidely remarked.

"But hey, this is good for you. Smaller bands like yours are always grateful to borrow crowds from us," he patronised. His cloudy blue eyes didn't rest on the angel long enough to see his cold scowl-hiding expression – they shifted immediately to regard something else next to him. "And who might this be?"

"Unavailable," Zara blurted out. Danny let out the mildest huff as his paper-thin lips curved up on one side.

"Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it," he gestured with his head towards Jack. "It's more fun on our side, I promise." The angel tilted his head, honestly surprised by the gall that the guy had to say that in front of him. But if he knew Zara at all, she could be trusted to give a guy like that a piece of her mind.

"Oh, uh," her eyebrows simply did a little jump. _Or not._ She momentarily glanced at Sam and Dean, signalling with her eyes where she wanted to go with this. This seemed like a good opportunity to get closer to him and see if anything shady was going on. "Well-"

"No, just no," Jack cut her off. He immediately got in between them and held her away from him with his hands on both her shoulders. Zara stumbled a little in the process but relied on Jack's grip to keep her from falling. He shot Danny an awkward grin. "She doesn't… do that sorta thing."

"She's a big girl, Jack. She can make her own decisions," Danny quipped with a snake-like cool.

"Yeah, Jack," Zara chimed in from his side. He jerked his head towards her but she was flirtatiously eyeing Danny.

"With your track record with men? No way," Jack insisted. A mild annoyance crept up on Zara. Conscious effort had to be made so that it wouldn't be written all over her forehead.

Danny simply looked between them in an awkward silence. "Alright… I'll leave you two to it then," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The invitation's still open if you change your mind," he winked at Zara. With that, he turned back to the table where his people were gathered. The crowded table was vibrant with life, with everyone doing shots and losing themselves to the music. Danny simply stood next to the manager, a quiet older man who wore shades indoors and had his palms dug into his pockets. He seemed to be talking to the manager about the encounter, judging by the way his youthful eyes darted towards Jack's table. His manager in turn snuck a peak towards them, lowering his shades to observe Zara.

"Way to ruin our only 'in' with the band, idiot," Zara pointedly whispered to Jack.

"Your 'in' with him or his with you?" Jack shot back. "I'm not pimping you out for some dirt-eating fuck."

"It's all part of the job. You don't solve a case without getting down in the mud," she argued.

"Okay, cut it out," Dean interjected with a firm flourish of his palm. He paused, staring vacantly at the table between them, befuddled that he needed to get in between them like a parent. "We'll figure something out, alright? Just keep your eyes out for anything weird. We need to find a way to corner Danny Douchebag when he's alone."

"Does he smoke?" Sam asked as one of many possibilities.

"Yeah, he sure loves having fags in his mouth," Jack sneered.

"Okay…" Dean nodded passively. "Okay, so let's hope he takes a smoke break. Sam and I will try to chat him up and find out what we can. You guys keep watch in case he tries something. Then we'll all be back in time for Tina's Titty Twister Special."

"Dean, I like the way you think," Jack complimented. Just then a rather busty woman in a tight pink dress came up to him and threw her arms around him. "Woah, hey."

She giggled drunkenly as she looked up to see him. A clumsy hand attempted to push her own straight, dark hair away from her face. "Hey, Jack," she giggled again. "Was wondering when you'd show up."

"I had some guests to attend to," he told her, steadying her so that she could face them. "Guys, meet Jen. World's best manager," he pointed to her goofily and she chuckled uncontrollably. "She hooked us up with the invites. Jen, this is Sam, Dean and Zara," he gestured towards them. They muttered 'hello's and 'thanks'.

"Wait, Zara?" the drunk girl squinted at Zara. "He's told me a lot about you!"

"He has?" she looked between them, beginning to worry. Jen had a wide, bright smile, genuinely excited.

"Yeah, totally," she leaned in so close that her significant chest was basically falling all over the table. "You guys are totally best friend goals. It's so cool that you guys found each other again! Happy endings do exist, huh?"

Jack sucked in his lips as he ushered her away from the table. "Okay, that's enough, Jen. Thank you," he said, patting her shoulder.

"Bring them over and introduce them to the boys," she requested with her silvery voice. "We're gonna do drunk karaoke with those guys from Warhammer in a while."

"Sure, sure, later," he simply droned. "You guys go ahead first."

With a seductive goodbye, she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Don't keep me waiting," she whispered in his proximity, poking his chest with a finger before letting go and staggering away. When Jack returned to a table, he struggled to hide the redness on his cheeks. He released a deep sigh and chugged a full pint of beer.

"Isn't she a little young to manage a band? Does she even have experience?" Sam wondered.

"Oh, she's… _very_ experienced," Jack exhaled. "I mean she does now. She helped us grow a lot. She has a great… business mind."

"I bet she has a great business body too," Zara teased.

"Hey, her tits might be fake but her friendship is real," he defended.

"Seemed like a bit more than friendship," Dean pointed out.

"That's part of the cover," he explained. "All part of the human mask. I pay her to pretend."

"Right…" Dean said. A while passed as they sipped on their drinks and made light conversation. Still no sign of Danny moving.

"Wait, how sure are we that Danny's the one?" Zara posited out of the blue. "It could be any of them."

"Apparently, he has a very specific preference for women," Sam filled her in. "Girls get vetted before they get to see him. It's like he's picking options off a menu. So he's our best guess. But we'll make sure."

"Yeah. We're getting to the bottom of this tonight," Dean asserted firmly. "One way or another."

"I still think that me going up to him is the best way to get him alone," Zara suggested. She cut Jack off before he could protest. "I don't care what you think. I don't need you to be my father."

"Why, because your real father did a good job?" Jack sharply replied.

"Woah, okay," Dean tried to cut them off again but Zara stared daggers at him and gestured with a sharp look to tell him to back off. He simply looked to Sam, who seemed equally alarmed.

"Tell me, Jack, what's your problem? I'm just trying to help _us_. You wanna help, don't get in my way," she argued. "And what is this protective bullshit? You think I'm some damsel who needs a strong guy like you to take care of me? To tell me what kind of men to stay away from? I can judge for myself, alright?"

"Zara, you just have _terrible_ judgment when it comes to dudes, alright?" he laid it down for her. "The guys you like… They're always either criminals, or likely to become criminals. Why can't you date someone decent? Like… like Sam," he gestured to the younger Winchester. Sam met Zara's tired expression.

"Guys, m-maybe this isn't the best time to talk about this," Sam advised.

"No, I think this is the _perfect_ time to talk about this," Zara refused. She took a breath, and suddenly all the verbal ammo came ready with a stiffening of her look. "Now that it's all coming out, I should just say it. Jack, I don't understand you, okay?" her every word pierced the air. "I don't even understand why I'm listening to you." She huffed, almost chuckling sardonically. Her lips might have been wide but her anger was tense under her skin, ready to break loose. "I mean, who is this guy?" she pointed at Jack while asking the Winchesters. "He just shows up one day and starts telling us what to do. Doesn't this seem shady to you guys?"

"Well, uh," Dean stammered.

"Don't answer that," Jack ordered, before turning back to her. "I'm not _some_ guy. I'm your best friend. I watched over you since you were in a crib."

"So you keep saying," she accused. "But all you do is criticise me and baby me, like I'm some helpless child in need of your protection. Did you ever think that _maybe_ , if you didn't scare Ricky off, I'd think that I actually deserved better? That I wouldn't be scared to-" her voice choked. The emerging sadness only prompted her to frown more. "To find someone who wouldn't actually hurt me?"

That turned a few heads, including Danny, for a moment, and his manager. Though Zara was seething, she didn't mean to attract so much attention. She averted her head and remained silent.

What she said gave Jack pause. "I…" he was frozen to the spot, unable to find words. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"And you think that… just because we have some sort of history together that I owe you my unconditional trust? That's the shadiest thing ever. And you _know_ I've seen some shit by now!" she snapped in hushed tones. "So I'm only gonna ask once, and you better come clean with me," she demanded with an iron resolve. "What do you want with me?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I want'?" Jack puzzled.

"There has to be some reason. No one just helps out for nothing. You want something in return, don't you?" she insinuated. All her paranoia, taken the form of words, became more and more real by the moment. Jack shook his head.

"Zara, I-"

"Just. Be. Honest. _Please_ ," she begged. Her chest was so tight at this point she thought she might burst into tears on the spot. "We're all thinking it."

"What? No, come on," he looked at the Winchesters. Dean shrugged and Sam nodded. "Seriously?"

"Look, you seem nice, but in our line of business, you wouldn't be the first to bamboozle someone into owing you a favour. So cut the crap," Dean admitted.

"What do you want from her?" Sam prompted.

"Nothing! I just… I… I was gonna ask you something," he held her gaze. Now he had their full attention. "I _was_ gonna wait till we finished the case but…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "I want you to come with me."

"Come with you where?" she probed. Jack let out a hefty sigh.

"Just… away. Join me. We'll play gigs and tour the world. You've always wanted to travel the world, right? Come with me, and we'll go anywhere. Just… anywhere you'd like," he admitted. He took her hand in his. "You don't need all this hunting _nonsense_. No offence," he turned to the Winchesters momentarily. "I can keep you safe. And I promise I won't leave you to suffer alone. That's what I wanted to say."

Zara's chin tightened. Her lips quivered. "This can't be real," she muttered. Her eyes welled up faster than ever. "You're not real."

"I am. And I'm here," he insisted. She tried to pull her hand away but his fingers followed hers. "Zara-"

"Don't touch me," she hissed at him, resisting his gesture. She sniffled and abruptly turned away. "I need some air," she half-whispered, holding her fingers close to her face in case a tear fell. Jack froze where he stood. He watched as she weaved her way through the crowd until he could see her no more. The further she walked, the more his chest felt heavy. A silent ambush of regret and self-loathing fought his own defences, crumbling the castle of comfort he'd built for himself. All he wanted was to let her in once more. And he'd failed at that.

"I shouldn't have done that…" he said to the Winchesters, though it was more to himself.

"Oh, you don't say," Dean remarked dryly. "If there's one thing you don't talk about with women, it's daddy issues. We all have them, we just don't talk about it. It's simple."

"Sometimes I just don't think before I do something," Jack berated himself, rubbing his temple in disappointment. "Great job, me."

"The both of you have that in common," Sam observed.

"What do you think says 'sorry' better? Flowers or whiskey?" Jack asked the both of them.

"Both? And throw in a necklace for good measure," Dean suggested. Jack nodded keenly.

"Nothing says 'sorry' better than actually saying 'sorry'," Sam said pointedly, judgmentally narrowing his eyes at Dean. "I'll go talk to her."

"No, wait," Jack paused. "You're… right. I should be the one to talk to her."

His lips formed a tight line as he downed a shot and disappeared into the crowd. "Talk about heartfelt reunions, huh?" Sam told Dean.

"Yeah," Dean huffed. He stared in the direction Jack went off, finding himself only more intrigued by the angel. By now, the club was fuller than ever. There was nothing but noise all around them. People laughing, talking, dancing – it was a cacophony of sounds. And their target was still at the same spot.

"He reminds me of you," Sam said. "Kinda. He's got that whole tough love thing going on."

"Please, I'd never have such _pullable_ hair. I mean, come on, guy dresses like he was raised by a biker gang," Dean denied. "If anything, he kinda looks like you."

"What?" Sam puzzled. "No."

"Yeah, take away some of the hair length – a tiny bit, I mean. He looks like you did in college," Dean inferred. "But a lot more chipper, with better taste in music and-"

"Does not," Sam denied. It just seemed ridiculous to him. "I don't see it."

"Whatever. I'm just putting it out there. But yeah, he does seem a little… touchy about her," Dean noticed. He shrugged. "Not that he'd have a problem with you."

"What? What're you talking about?" Sam's eyebrows dipped slightly.

"' _Why can't you date someone decent? Like Sam'_ ," Dean imitated Jack's impatient tone with an amused grin. "Are you gonna tell 'im?"

"We're not… 'dating'. It was just one night," Sam admitted.

"Right… it was just one night and an afternoon of hand-holding. Get real, Sam, you like her," Dean pointed out. He held his hands up in a mock surrender. "And hey, I'm not judging you. It's hard for people like us to… you know. But she's clearly capable of handling herself. _And_ she has a guardian angel."

"So?" Sam probed. "Where are you going with this?"

"So… you don't have to worry so much about something bad happening to her. She's not like the others, Sammy," Dean elaborated. "Life's short, is all I'm saying."

Sam's eyes flickered between the emptied glasses on their table as he considered what his brother said.

"We got movement," Dean suddenly called out. Sam's head jerked up to see the back of Danny's spiked hair migrating across the room with his snake-like arm wrapped around a young woman in a blue dress. The boys perked up instantly and followed him discreetly, lacing through the tables and people.

* * *

 _ **Some Nightclub, Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 11.01pm**_

When Jack found Zara, she was standing alone on the cold patio. Her hands gripped the railing that overlooked the city. A gentle autumn breeze arrived like a gift from the heavens and caressed her. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer to her body, unwilling to share in its embrace. It had taken him a while to locate her. She'd done a good job on masking her trail, taking indirect routes to confuse him. Once he was sure that she wasn't inside – and he was thorough in checking – he ventured outside. He stood silently for a moment, just observing her. She reeked of alcohol. She sniffled again and wiped her cheeks. How many times had he found her like this, broken and tired? Only now it stung that he'd hurt her. He'd been so focused on one thing that he forgot to consider how she must have felt. _Idiot,_ he chastised himself.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" she said to the air, sobbing as she turned around. Jack appeared physically, the fluttering of his wings announcing his presence. The look on his face said it all. If it was possible to appear like a sad puppy, Jack was doing it now. Somehow, there was no escaping the innocence that poured from his glistening eyes, despite knowing that he was an immortal, powerful being. How could someone be that powerful and still look clueless and lost? Zara wondered. If it was a pretence, he was one hell of an actor.

"Guess not," he simply said. Her face was streaked with dried tears. He took a few steps towards her, longing to take her pain away. But that wasn't in his power. "I'm sorry I said those things. I was just being an idiot. You know how I am. I didn't think I'd hurt you so much."

"No, you're right," she dismissed his apology with a wave of the hand. She gulped some tears away. "You've always been right. I should have listened to you more. Then I wouldn't be so miserable."

Plump droplets rolled down her cheeks. She clumsily wiped them away with the back of her hand. By now, the back of her hand was so damp it was just making her face wetter. Jack saw the sorry mess that she was and couldn't help but feel responsible. If only he'd been more present. If only he'd defied God and Death sooner. "If it's any consolation, I'm miserable too," he confessed, digging his hands in his pockets. "Everywhere I go, everyone sees me as a human. No one sees me as me. I have to pretend to be… a completely different species. A completely different person. And I've been doing that my whole life, it feels like. It gets… lonely."

Zara still sniffled but the tears calmed their flow a little. She leaned back against the railing. A pregnant pause fell between them. Her eyes were fixed on the floor while his were fixed on her. There was only the muffled sound of bass blasting from inside the club and the rippling of water from the outdoor pool. An ambient glow from the pool lit their faces. "I'm sorry to hear about that," she finally said. "I can't imagine what that's like."

"That's why I asked… I- I can't tell you the number of times I've wished that you were next to me," his lips widened momentarily but it was tough with the stinging in his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he was this honest with someone about his feelings. "I want us to do things together again."

"I- I can't…" she stuttered. Those two words drove a stake through his heart. "I have to be here. With Sam and Dean. Hunting is a part of my life now. I need to-"

"I know about you and Lucifer," Jack blurted out.

"What?" Zara felt her stomach sink. Her chest felt hollow, like her heart had stopped. Defences flared up instinctively, ready to mount an attack. It was dizzying to even think about whether the situation called for an adrenaline-pumped response – Jack appeared emotionless when he said it so it was hard to tell where he was going with it. Or maybe it was just the six shots of vodka she'd downed prior to this.

"I know that you're working for him. And no, I'm not gonna tell anyone. That's your secret to tell," he stated. That was somewhat of a relief. "I've been… keeping tabs on you."

"That's not… sketchy at all," she dryly remarked. But she smiled. She forced herself to do it. A great weight lifted from her chest. To think that she'd kept such a big secret from everyone, like it was something to be ashamed of – it was getting tiring. She looked upon him with a compensatory smile. "There's no hiding anything from you, I guess…"

"You know what's sketchy? Upsetting a bunch of pagans. Jesus, Zara, what have you gotten yourself involved in? Trying to destroy Javelin like that?" he frowned, taking a deep exhale. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to put yourself in a pagan god's line of fire?"

"Relax, it's all part of Lucifer's plan. He's using me to draw them out of their hidey holes," she drawled as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's reassuring," he rebutted rather sourly.

"He won't let them hurt me. He'll keep me safe," she simply said and did a little shrug.

"Somehow I'm not convinced. Especially after what I saw today," he argued. He'd be lying if he'd said this did not rub him the wrong way. But Jack wasn't going to chew her ear off about everything he thought was wrong about this. Instead, he just folded his arms to keep the annoyance in.

"He trained me to deal with situations like this. I don't feel pain as much anymore. I heal faster. And I can borrow spurts of archangel magic," she explained to him, counting off on her fingers. She took his hand with both of hers. Closing her eyes, Zara looked within herself and activated the hawk, albeit briefly due to her inebriated state. Jack's eyes widened as he felt it. A burst of energy radiated from her. A warm, soothing wave. Its familiarity was so shocking that he was almost moved to tears. It felt like his mother. He could do nothing but stop and take in the moment. "See? It protects me. I'm safer this way. Because of Lucifer."

Jack pulled a hand down his face to snap himself out of it. "It doesn't make it okay to put yourself in dangerous situations," he rejected. "I don't like this."

"You don't like _this_ , or you don't like Lucifer?" she probed, trying her best to look him in the eye. He refused to meet her gaze, staring instead at the city behind her. "You can be honest. I wouldn't be surprised."

"It's not… him," Jack answered. "I don't care what he does. It's you I'm worried about. Unless he wants to try and destroy the earth again because… that would suck."

"No, he doesn't want to do that," Zara confirmed, despondently studying his expression. It was surprising how undisturbed he was at the mention of Lucifer. Now that she'd gotten a huge secret off her chest, she only felt relief. It was a new feeling. And new things could be scary. But seeing him again – being in his presence again – soothed the alarm bells that went off in her head. She wasn't even supposed to have said this much. If she wasn't so drunk, her better instincts might have led her to nag at him until he decided that she wasn't worth it and left her to finish the mission in peace. "He just wants to rule over… everything."

"Whatever that means. Hmph," he shook his head cynically.

"I need to help him," she asserted, staggering on the spot as she made her point.

"You don't 'need' to do anything," he retorted with air quotes.

"But I do," she insisted. The way she held his gaze reminded him of the time she tried to convince him that he needed to publish his music. It was his duty to share the beauty of his music with the world, she'd said. And look at him now, ready to play at a music festival for thousands of people. "You talk about loneliness. Can you imagine what he must feel? The love of his life left him and there's a giant hole in his heart where his son is supposed to be. He doesn't have anyone but me to understand what that's like. I _have_ to help him."

Jack was at a loss for words. He always was when it came to discussing his father. The only thing that was clear to him, however, was the ache he felt in Zara's absence. Nothing else mattered. He gulped down the heaviness building in his jaw.

"I'm sorry but you ask too much of me," she apologised. "I can't just betray him by leaving."

"I'm not asking you to betray anyone," Jack clarified. "I'm asking you to _live_. Live the life you deserve."

"I deserve Hell for the things I've done and that's exactly where I live," she managed to say despite the heaviness of the words.

"Zara, no," he shook his head. "You deserve to be happy. Run away with me."

"Listen, meathead, this isn't my mom's house you're asking me to run away from," she snapped at him. "It's Hell and the motherflippin' Devil. If he finds out what you're trying to do, he'll kill you."

"Okay, look," Jack shifted his weight and sighed, unsure of how to put it. "He's not gonna do that. I'm… mostly sure."

"Really?" she doubted. "H- how could you even tell?"

"I just know, okay. Trust me," he pressed a palm to his chest.

"W-Whatever, dude. You wanna take it up with him, go for it. Just don't blame me when he reaches into your guts and pulls out your spleen," she patted his shoulder as she made to walk past him. At that opportune moment, one of her heels buckled under her. She lurched forward, almost falling if not for Jack holding onto her. Resistance to the vodka was futile. Her forehead firmly buried on his shoulder as her head spun. "Oh man, I drank too much."

"Hey, hey," he supported her flimsy structure. "Let's get you back to the motel."

"No, we still need to get that-" her head fell back passively and she groaned with her eyes shut. "Or not…"

"You are done for today. Let Sam and Dean handle it," he whispered, his breath caressing her temple. His voice, which could only be described as the embodiment of a smooth, velvet fabric, threatened to lull her into unconsciousness. If only she could fully bring herself to appreciate it.

"Okay, just… no flying," she requested. "I might puke."


	73. One-Punch Girl

Sophia's Chronicles

 **A/N:**

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and don't worry about Sophia, I did write stuff from her POV in an upcoming chapter. I didn't forget about my main character, people. Here's a quick recap before you start the chapter.

 **PREVIOUSLY, on Sophia's Chronicles:** Sam, Dean and Zara are in Jefferson City hunting a suspected Rakshasa after finding out that the last one may not have been working alone (MO: hunting 'insecure' girls with a history of relationship issues under the guise of their favourite Rockstar). They run into Jack (Luc, son of Lucifer and Sophia, disguised as an ordinary angel disguised as an ordinary human – status: complicated), who used to be Zara's guardian angel and wants to redeem himself in her eyes by helping them out with the case. Jack is confronted by Chuck and Death, who warn him about the dangers of his actions – especially Death, who lays down four rules for him to follow (Don't use archangel strength, don't meet other angels, don't be seen by Lucifer and most importantly, don't reveal your real identity to anyone). They all run into Crowley, who reveals that he is working with the pagans to defeat Lucifer and in escaping him, the four of them obtain a mysterious helmet while also losing Zara's archangel blade. With no leads, the four of them head to a pre-festival party where their suspected Rakshasa probably also is. Things take a turn when Jack and Zara fight about her issues with men and she storms off, not before attracting some unwanted attention. Jack and Zara reconcile, but she is too wasted to carry on the mission so they decide to get her back to the motel. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean find Danny, the lead singer of Brides In White, on the move and decide to follow him.

* * *

 **Chapter 73: One-Punch Girl**

 _ **Some Nightclub, Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 11.24pm**_

It was such a relief to Dean's ears to be free of the tasteless beats that played through the club's speakers. At least, as much as it was possible to while meandering through the hallway that led to the parking lot at the back of the club. There was almost no one here, which made him and Sam worry that the young blonde on Danny's arm could be in danger. A girl with a pixie cut and a cigarette between her fingers cursorily glanced at the Winchesters as they briskly walked past her. Searching every door on the way, the exit was the only option left. They stepped out onto the cold lot. The boys gazed in opposing trajectories, keeping an eye out for Danny. But all that was visible was the array of slick, shiny cars and a vacant road outside the lot.

"Great, did we lose him?" Sam wondered.

Like a knife cutting through the air, the sound of a woman's shriek jerked them in its direction. "Well, there's your answer," Dean said as they both drew their guns and headed towards the corner of the building. With a silent countdown, they jolted around the corner, guns ready to fire.

The couple, intertwined in an amorous embrace, twitched. Danny's mouth detached from her neck. "Woah, what the hell?!" he yelled.

"Oh," Dean realised. He sheepishly smiled and lowered his gun. "Sorry, uh, we thought…" he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, um, was he hurting you?" Sam asked the girl.

"In all the right ways…" she let out a throaty giggle.

"Right," Dean clicked off the safety on his gun and sheathed it. So did Sam.

"Not cool, man," Danny declared, straightening his jacket. "Totally ruined the mood."

"I can help you get back into the mood," the girl propositioned, smiling shyly. She tried to brush a strand of his hair away. Danny simply scowled and knocked her hand away. Her smile faded.

"Let's just get back inside," he grumbled.

"Not so fast," Dean halted him. "We need to ask you some questions."

"Well I'm not really up for an interview. Talk to my manager," he brushed them off.

To that, Sam and Dean pulled out fake IDs. "We're not asking," Sam stated. Later, having sent the disillusioned blonde woman inside, Sam and Dean stood towering over Danny, who stood with his back to the wall. "Have you seen any of these women before?"

Sam showed him the pictures of the women who'd been killed by the Rakshasa. Danny squinted at their images. "Maybe? I don't know," he shrugged. "I mean, I see a lot of women. Can't remember all their faces. Or their names," he let out a short chortle. "Ooh, where can I find _her_?"

He stopped on the picture of the first girl. "In the cemetery," Dean deadpanned. "She's dead."

"Seriously?" he looked between Sam and Dean. "What happened?"

"She was brutally murdered. And so were the others," Sam answered. As much as he tried, it was hard to take Danny seriously when the singer's eyes were heavily framed by eyeliner. He looked like a teenage angst nightmare.

"Oh no," Danny grimaced. "That sounds horrible."

"Cut the crap!" Dean slammed a palm against the wall. Danny flinched. "The one thing that all these women have in common is you! All of them were fans of your… 'music'."

"It wasn't me! I swear," Danny defended himself, increasingly trembling in Dean's presence.

"All of the women were killed in places where your band played gigs. They also applied to become part of your little… sex cult," Sam reasoned. "All the evidence points to you."

"Hey, it's a _club_ , first of all," Danny retorted. "Second, we're all about love and peace, man. We don't condone violence or fighting."

From the look on Dean's face, he wasn't convincing anybody. "You're a guy who takes advantage of insecure women and uses them for your own personal pleasure," Dean asserted.

"Wow, harsh," Danny quipped, looking almost surprised by that statement. "It wasn't my idea, okay? I've just always had trouble approaching women and this… helps me. Now instead of me approaching them, they approach me. How awesome is that?"

"Just fantastic," Sam dryly replied. "Except for the part where their flesh gets torn into pieces."

"Wait, if it wasn't your idea, whose was it?" Dean questioned.

"It was Larry's," he told them. "My manager. He takes care of the whole process for me. He talks to the girls first and by the time they get to me, they just won't say 'no' to me. He's a miracle-worker."

"Of course," Sam sighed. He exchanged a knowing look with Dean.

"Wait, you don't think… it's him, do you?" Danny hesitantly asked.

"It's highly possible," Sam nodded. Danny's shoulders drooped as he let out a deep exhale.

"Man, I can't imagine Larry hurting people like that," Danny mumbled, his eyes roving over the floor. "He was such a nice guy and he works crazy hard. I mean, he's been working so hard the past few months it's almost like he's a completely different person."

"Huh." Dean signalled to his brother with a look that this seemed suspicious. "I guess we'll find out once we find him. Guess we're headin' back inside."

"Oh, right, um," Danny pressed a hand to his forehead, suddenly realising something. "Larry went off somewhere. He said he wanted to talk to that girl… see if she wanted to be part of our uh, club."

Sam perked up at the sound of that. "Which girl?"

"The one that came with you and Jack. He said she'd fit right in," Danny looked between them. Those words struck like a giant bell in Sam's head. "Wait, is Jack working for the Feds? Is he like an informant or something?"

"It's confidential," Dean simply said. The Winchesters decided this was the end of the conversation. Legs moving hastily, they rushed back into the club. "We were so worried about not being able to find Dr Lecter but looks like he found us."

"He's going after Zara," Sam uttered what they already knew. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, refusing to focus on a single one. It was happening again, he thought. This was what he was always afraid of. And it was coming true again. _Why does she keep getting into trouble?_

"I know what you're thinking," Dean said as they made through the long hallway again. "She'll be alright, okay? We'll stop him. Try her phone."

"On it," Sam instantly dialled her number. An automated message played on the other end. With every word, Sam's heart quickened its tempo. "She's not picking up."

* * *

 _ **A Street, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 12.03am**_

"Shit, phone's dead," Zara muttered, staring dejectedly at the blank screen. The phone disappeared into the abyss of her little handbag, lost to a messy assemblage of cosmetics.

They sauntered at a leisurely pace along the empty street. Jack watched as she staggered in front of him. Carefully, she placed one foot in front of the other, trying her best not to fall. She walked like she was on a tightrope, which was a little amusing to Jack. It was only them, the street of quiet buildings and periodic streetlamps casting an incandescent yellow light on the world below.

"What's it like, by the way, to work for-" he almost said ' _my father'._ "-for Lucifer?"

"Well, he's very…" her large brown irises darted as she searched for the word. "… demanding. But not in a bad way." She smirked, reminiscing interesting moments with the archangel. "He has a very commanding presence. He knows what he wants and how to get it. It's comforting, actually, to be on his side for once. To follow someone who knows what he's doing. I kinda get why people fear him. He's good at this." She held her hand out to him and he complied, wrapping her hand around his own elbow to support her. "I mean, I don't need to tell _you_ , right? You probably know him better."

"Actually…" Jack trailed off. "I've never even met the guy. I don't know what the big deal is."

"Seriously?" Zara puzzled.

"I only know what I've read about him. So really, you're the expert on this one," he conceded with a little huff.

Zara had a befuddled look on her face as she studied her best friend. As notice of her gaze took over him, he reciprocated with a thin, radiant smile. She only found herself wondering who he really was – some kind of strange, unknown creature who came with magical hair and a bubble of love that she could feel simply by standing next to him. "You're really strange, you know that?" she drunkenly mumbled. "One day, we are going to sit down with a bottle of vodka between us, and you're gonna tell me exactly how you ended up babysitting me."

"One day," he repeated in assent, a mild satisfaction warming him up from the inside. "I promise." When he looked at her, he only saw his home. His source of comfort, his retreat – the one thing that could truly bring him home. His innocent, loving Zara. She was in there somewhere, he knew it. Even if Lucifer had done something to her. "But you still haven't answered the question. What's it like for _you_ to work for him?"

"Oh well, you know, he's the Devil. He can get me anything I want. And he does, from time to time. In fact, he indulges me. So I'd say… the perks are great," she added. But then a weary breath dropped her shoulders and the liveliness faded from her eyes. "And all I have to do is sacrifice myself at every turn for his goals. But I don't mind, really. What else do I have to do with my life?" she chuckled sardonically. "I think I actually enjoy it."

"Are you sure about that?" Jack was sceptical.

"Yeah, yeah, no doubt," she hurriedly dismissed. "The number of times I've flung myself out of windows to get myself out of tight spots… he always catches me, of course. Working for him constantly challenges me. Forces me to be at my best because there's always danger."

"So you like the thrill?" he clarified.

"Exactly," she agreed. "You get what I mean, right?"

"Eh." He turned his head away, reluctant to divulge his true opinions on the matter.

"You're such a hypocrite, you know that?" she criticised. He instantly jerked his head towards her. "You do all these cool amazing stunts. Throw yourself off buildings, parkour, skateboard – it's okay when you do insane things, but not if I do it?"

"That's different, okay? That's me," he argued. "I'm an angel. I don't get hurt. But you do. Know your danger zone, alright?"

Their pace was a smooth constant, until suddenly Zara halted and pulled him close to her. "Lucifer taught me how to hurt angels, you know," she whispered in his ear. "I could be _your_ danger zone."

 _That, you definitely are,_ he thought. As his doleful eyes turned to her, he saw a distance in her pupils. She seemed like a creature trapped in her own mind, playing out a programmed role. _What have you done to my Zara, Father?_ A remnant of the girl he remembered remained, still, but as a captive of this new servant Lucifer had made.

Seeing his melancholy, Zara remained eerily grave. Then, like a switch flipped inside her brain, her lips widened and pearls of her laughter bounced about the air. She threw her head back and pulled him forward along the path, though he remained observing her. It was surreal.

The midnight had only the two of them for company as they strode down the sidewalk. Jack found himself detaching, if only to ground himself in her presence again. His mind was awash with thoughts about what they had both become.

"I made a mistake, Zara," he broke the silence between them. "I should've been there for you. This is all my fault."

"You weren't supposed to intervene, Jack. I get it," she sympathised, if only to get him to quit whining.

"That was during the apocalypse. I mean after. After… after Sophia left you," he answered, eyes drooping. "You were all alone. And you were praying for help. I- I should've come to you."

"Oh my God. Would you please… just stop?" she groaned, separating herself from his side. "'Should've's and 'could've's don't mean _shit_ to me, Jack. The fact of the matter is, you had the choice and you _chose_ not to do anything. Can we just leave it at that?"

"No," he curtly answered, kind eyes stinging. "What I did was not okay."

"Of course it isn't. But you… bringing it up again like this is not helping. I'm trying to move on here but it's like you're trying to make me mad," she pointedly uttered to convey her frustration, while trying her best to stay calm.

"Then get mad. Get mad at me. I deserve it," he confessed. "If it helps you heal from the damage I've caused, do it."

Zara's lips formed a tight line. Every time she looked into his eyes, she felt an emotion she could only describe as _real_. " _Nothing_ is gonna help me heal…" she told him sombrely. With a single look, her scars were exposed. "If only you knew the things I felt…"

"Then tell me," he asked of her. She stared at him, half a heart telling her that she should talk about it.

"It doesn't matter," she simply said. "None of it matters now." A dull ache emanated from her chest but by now, she was used to the feeling. "Lucifer saved me and gave me a new life. I'm thankful for it."

"Does he care about you?" Jack pondered.

Zara huffed. "He's my boss, not my boyfriend," she quipped.

"I don't mean it like that. After everything… that's happened, you'd be… family," he stated as a gentle breeze swept past them, brushing his lengthy hair with it. He pulled a hand up his forehead to push back the trespassing locks of hair. "You bore his son."

Zara's own short tendrils of hair bounced about as her head tilted with both amusement and surprise at once. "You really don't know him, do you?" she chuckled. "None of that actually means anything to him. I doubt he sees me as anything but a… container for his and Sophia's use."

 _Oh_ , Jack realised.

She sighed, pulling her jacket closer to her body. "But I suppose… he does treat me better than he typically would want to," she admitted. "Now that I'm working for him, he's actually kinda nice to me. We have fun in Hell too, you know."

Cynicism knotted his eyebrows but curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of fun?" he asked.

"One time, he showed me how to skin a man's torso in under thirty seconds," a malicious glee lit up her face. It felt almost cathartic to admit that to someone, like a secret that she didn't want to hide anymore.

"Zara, that's fucked up," Jack stated monotonously.

"Yeah? Well so was being probed and prodded like some lab rat in a prison without windows and suffering a miscarriage in the process," she countered emotionlessly.

"A miscarriage," he repeated. The words were an assault on his heart. It took him a few seconds to just comprehend the weight of those two words. It wasn't like he didn't know what happened. _The British Men of Letters._ He remembered the panic he had when he discovered Zara and Nick were gone. The crippling paranoia, the indecision he'd faced not knowing whether he could intervene. Now all he had was guilt. "What the hell did they do to you?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. They were a strange contrast to each other, Zara answering with a numbness and Jack listening to her with a pained look like he was going to burst into tears any moment. His demeanour was but an amusement to her. It seemed funny that anyone should be so upset about her ordeal when even she had lost all feeling about it. He seemed to be searching for the words to say and Zara realised it would have been tough for anyone in that position to reply to such a thing. "Please don't apologise again. I will walk away."

Jack gulped. "So what? This is… revenge? Are you taking revenge on the world for what it's done to you?"

Her lips widened in a soft smile. "Maybe," she simply answered. "All I know is that working for Lucifer fulfils me. I have everything that I could ever want. There's nothing better than this for me."

"What about being happy?" he rebutted. "Tell me, does all this chaos actually make you happy? Does it make you feel good about yourself?"

"Sure," she said rather stiffly.

"You don't sound sure," he pointed out.

"Listen, you don't understand," she argued, voice hardening. "It's not about happiness. It's about justice. People have taken advantage of me, they used me for their own purposes and left me to rot like a sorry mess. I was _broken_ when he found me. And now I'm not. Tell me, if you had found me instead of Lucifer, would the people who hurt me ever face justice?"

"Of course they would," he answered without hesitation. "If anyone understands what it feels like to be used… t-to be left outside like last week's garbage, it's me, okay? And it's not that I don't understand. Of course you want revenge. Of course you're angry. You've every right to be. But you can't let yourself be so caught up in this anger that you don't let yourself live and become… obsessed with violence. That's a mistake."

His tirade gave her pause. "Who used _you_?" she ventured a question. _He talks like he knows the feeling too well._

Jack shook his head passively. He'd never said this much to anyone before. "Someday I'll tell you," he simply said. They took a left and crossed the road to the motel. Outside her door, they both stood facing each other. "Hey, you can't tell Lucifer about me," he requested. She exhaled a smirk, eyes sweeping over the floor momentarily. "I'm serious."

"I know," she answered nonchalantly. "I wasn't gonna tell him anyway. I don't think it's gonna sit well with him that I still have emotions. Or friends." Jack nodded very shortly as he remained where he stood, wordless and observing her. It was one thing he knew he had to get off his chest as a matter of obligation and it was settled.

 _One day this will all make sense_ , he reassured himself. _One day it will mean something_.

"It's not your fault, you know," she snapped him out of his thoughts, voice low and scratchy as she leaned back against the wall. Seeing his blurry silhouette, she could sense the melancholy on his face even if his face was shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. All that gloominess was so unlike him. "Bad things happened to me because bad people did those things. I'll never blame you for any of it."

She turned around and inserted the key into the keyhole. The chirping of nocturnal insects filled the silence between them. Archangel, pensive, and human, intoxicated, were prepared to part for the night. With a jiggle, the lock slid open and the door gave way. The thoughts that raced through Jack's mind, wanting conversations of a lost eternity, only found hastily-put words rushing out of his lips to catch her before she retired for the night. "Do you have a happy place?" he asked out of the blue. One last question before he had to fast the normal eight hours before further human interaction. She paused at the threshold to see him again. "What's in your happy place?"

His question seemed so simple yet so silly. A smile tickled her jaw. "Let's see…" she decided to humour him. "I'm in a house somewhere in Illinois. Somewhere far away from everyone else with nothing but meadows around me. Sophia's there. You're there. And so is Luc." Her voice was like honey to his ears when she spoke a name no one had said in a long time. What might have been two years for her was two thousand for him. Two thousand years of being nameless – being less than existent. _Not anymore_ , he thought with a curve of his lips. Funny how something so simple could be so comforting. Zara chuckled to herself. "You know, I wish you'd met Luc. You'd like him-"

Jack threw his arms around her and pulled her close. His sudden embrace knocked the breath out of her but it felt like a thick cloud of warmth had enveloped her. She simply wrapped her arms around his waist as his hands hugged her to him. Everything about him brought back a flood of good memories. His scent was that of fresh rain, like a thick, damp fog encircled her. He had a comforting aura – motherly, even, Zara thought. It was a different world in his arms. A world without fear, without pain, but most importantly, a world with only the two of them. The way it should have been.

When they finally parted and the motel room door came to a close between them, thoughts of Lucifer returned to Zara after a protracted absence. It was a blissful ignorance but the stakes were clearer now. Her drunken form sat on the bed in changed clothes, staring into the darkness as her head spun. She mulled over what living meant, now that someone cared – now someone that _she_ cared about cared. Unfair, it seemed, but the mission had to come first. The mission being Sam and Dean. Things seemed to be going well on that front. A little too well, perhaps. Dean, the righteous man, and Sam, the one who was meant for her. And Jack in the middle who seemed to be getting along well with them. Being on good terms with him – which Zara was very inclined to do – meant keeping the Winchesters' faith. And how long would that last? _Dammit._

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be this way. Maybe Jack was a liability. He had to go. Zara's first instinct was an image of her archangel blade through his heart. Wasn't that what she was supposed to have done in the first place? Her breaths raced as her body fought against the training. _Lucifer or Jack?_ _I'll need to choose sooner or later._

All of this ambiguity was frustrating. Her fingers clenched around a glass at her bedside table. _I'm already in Hell. It doesn't matter how many people I hurt._ An invasion of voices gave her conflicting messages. _He's your best friend. The only person in this God-forsaken universe who'll ever care about you. Don't you dare hurt him._ The grand tug-o-war made her head feel tight. _You've killed the past before. Do it again. Do it for Lucifer._ A grunt escaped her lips. Her elbow arched back with the glass in her hand, ready to hurl it against the wall. _You can't believe that he's for real! No one cares about you! You've lost. Now destroy him!_

 _Knock, knock, knock,_ the door's chatter resounded. Zara was practically heaving for breath, nerves so tight that she could have buried the glass in someone's head if she tried. She set the glass down and took a few deep breaths. It was a strange thing to have visitors at this hour. She dragged herself to the door and pulled it open.

A large silhouette greeted her, yellow streetlight highlighting the hair that hung past his shoulders. "Jack?" she called out with sleepy eyes. The hallway was dark so his front was shrouded in a curtain of black. "You're not going back to the party?" The figure stood eerily still and quiet. He simply shook his head 'no', a slow, robotic side-to-side. Zara hugged her cardigan closer to her body. "Okay…" The night seemed lonely anyway. _"Come on in."_

* * *

 _ **Some Nightclub, Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 11.38pm**_

Sam's heart pounded in his chest as he hastened to scan the crowds of people. The paranoia was overtaking him so fast that he couldn't even bother to pause at every face he saw to verify that it wasn't Zara. For a brief second, relief flashed in his mind to spot a familiar jet black hair and sharp jaw, until he realised that it was Jack, not her. Still, it was progress. Jack was seductively eyeing a lady standing by herself who seemed to be reciprocating the gesture when Sam and Dean appeared before him.

"What's crackin' fellas? Did I miss anything?" he playfully asked them.

"We need to find Zara," Dean stated firmly.

"Oh, don't worry. I had it handled," he sighed in relief. "We talked it out and we're good now."

"S-so you found her?" Sam raised both his eyebrows.

"Yeah," he nodded, with a tone markedly more relaxed than the Winchesters'. That was beginning to dawn on him. Slightly hesitant, he continued, "So are we gonna lynch Danny or what?"

"It's not him," Sam told him, to his befuddlement.

"Dammit," Jack cursed, shaking a fist.

"It's the manager," Dean cut to it. "He's going after Zara."

"What?" the angel's brows dipped briefly, alarm beginning to build the tension between them.

"He must have-" Sam pulled a hand down his chin as he tried to derive an explanation. "He must have overheard your little argument and thought she was like the other girls," he flustered. "We have to get to her before he does. Where is she, Jack?"

"She… I just walked her back to the motel," he explained.

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Wait, Rakshasas usually need an invite to get into their victim's houses, right?"

"Oh, well, she's too shitfaced right now to be hospitable," Jack shrugged. He hoped to God that that would mean that she didn't answer the door. His eyes widened to consider another possibility. "Unless she thought it was Danny…" The boys briskly exited the club and Jack flew them to the motel. The neon sign flickered a little upon their arrival but the scene was otherwise tranquil. They marched up to her door and Sam was the first to offer a knuckle to the door. A single contact later, the door nudged open. He exchanged a terrified look with the others, as if to confirm their worst suspicions. Leaden steps journeyed into the dark room. Three sets of Winchester eyes scanned the darkness until Jack flipped the switch, revealing her absence.

"We're too late," Sam gulped.

"I leave for one second…" Jack mumbled under his breath. _Dammit, Zara, where did you go?_

The elder Winchester brother inspected a mess of broken glass on the floor. It was the tattered remains of a drinking glass. Some tiny shards glistened a ruby colour. Someone had been hurt in the scuffle. "Room seems a little clean," Dean mused hopelessly at the lack of trail. "Sammy, see if you can hack into the cameras-"

Dean halted abruptly at the sight of the empty air where the open door was. He heard the muffled jingle of keys and knew immediately that Sam was already on it.

 _ **Later,**_

Jack's hair hung like a smooth, opaque curtain down his back as he stared at the raindrops trickling down the window pane. His eyes drooped on their outer edges. The surface tension in each tiny bead of rain against the window built up, until gravity decided that the drop should succumb to its pull and fall. He watched it happen over and over again, letting nature accuse him of the same inescapability that the rain drops had in keeping to the windows.

"Got it," Sam announced, perched in front of a laptop screen. Dean was seated next to him at the table. The two Winchesters had half-emptied cans of extra-strong coffee in front of them. Jack rested his forearms on the spines of both their chairs as he leaned forward between them. The black-and-white footage of the hallway outside rolled on the laptop screen.

Two figures appeared on the screen, entwined. Jack's heart melted at the sight of Zara's head resting against his shoulder, her eyes closed serenely. Time slowed as her lips inched into a smile and his followed suit in real time. The warmth of her hug lingered on him like a perfume. Soon enough they parted and Jack backed away out of the camera's shot before he disappeared in flight – a habit he'd cultivated to avoid getting caught on tape using his powers. Sam fast forwarded the tape until another figure plodded up the stairs that raised the ground floor above the parking lot. Their breaths collectively paused at the sight. The same frown was replicated on each of their faces.

"You guys are seeing this too, right?" Sam asked, eyes glued to the screen.

"This is like some… Freaky Friday shit," Dean remarked without a blink.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Jack sharply muttered. They watched as the long-haired figure shook his head slowly, shortly before Zara invited him in. A pulse reverberated in his chest as the door shut. A few moments later, it opened again and the large figure emerged again. He seemed to stagger out the door as he held down a struggling Zara with an arm, the other arm clamped over her mouth. She thrashed about to little use. Of course, the Rakshasa was much stronger than she was. Her struggle was pathetic in comparison to his iron grip.

Then came the moment. The Rakshasa swung his body in tandem with the arm secured at her jaw, knocking her head against a pillar. Sam flinched at that but Jack was eerily still. His blood seemed to be boiling in his veins. They watched as Zara's torso grew limp and her head slung down passively. Then the Rakshasa picked her body up with both arms and proceeded down the hallway toward the camera. A single sliver of light cut through his trajectory and as he passed through it, the features of his borrowed face came into view. Jaw first, then lips, nose and eyes. No part of Jack's likeness was spared.

"Cunt," Jack cussed. "How fucking dare- When I find this sonuva-"

"Cool it, Fargo. We're all pissed," Dean cut him off before any more colourful language painted the air.

Sam switched cameras at the same timepoint to track the Rakshasa's movement. "He just vanishes," he remarked as he struggled to locate the monster. "Great," he pulled a hand down his jaw. "Now what?"

"If you were a reptilian bug-chasing monster, where would you take your next meal?" Dean pondered.

"Hm," Sam keyed in something. A map of the whole city appeared on the screen marked with all the hotspots that Sam could think of. But there was one problem. "There's too damn many. We'll never be able to get through all of these in time."

"There has to be some kind of method to his thinking," Jack straightened up. "How would a guy like him pick a spot?"

"Sammy, pull up the maps of the other cities our guy's hit," Dean suggested. Sam obliged, marking the same points of interest, and the three of them studied the three maps simultaneously. Five minutes passed. And then ten. Finding a pattern wasn't so easy.

"We should probably remove this one," Sam pointed at a point on the Springfield map that represented the last case they investigated there. "It was a false flag, right? It could be throwing us off."

"No, wait," Jack stopped him. Dean thought it uncanny how not a single breath left Jack's lips but then again, he'd observed that sometimes with Cas. It was like angels sometimes forgot to breathe, not that they needed to in the first place. "I could- I know someone who can help us," he said. Gesturing for Sam to move over, he took Sam's seat and went tapping away on the keyboard.

"Wait a second, is that… the Tor browser? What are you doing?" Sam inquired.

"I have a friend on the Dark Web who can crack this," Jack explained, intently working. "Don't worry, the VPN will keep our location safe."

"Hey, I might be wrong, but I don't think the Deep Web is a good place to make friends," Sam shrugged.

"It helps to have connections when you're trying to be inconspicuous," Jack mentioned. He uploaded the images of the marked maps to a site and entered something in a chat. He requested, very vaguely, for an extrapolated set of points on the Jefferson City map based on the other three maps. Someone replied, asking for payment.

"Good luck not getting tracked paying a shady no-name on the internet," Dean scoffed. "A credit card number's all it takes."

"Payment's through crypto, Grandpa," Jack jibed back. "Do yourself a favour and invest in Botcoin. You'll thank me later."

"I don't get it," Dean muttered cluelessly. "So they can't track you? At all?" He squinted at the screen to read the name of the person they were communicating with. "This person- this uh- that's not even English."

"A Botcoin wallet is completely anonymous. Of course, you'd still have to use a scrambling programme to mask where your coins are coming from and going," Jack monotonously rambled. A pause later, he continued, "His username's in Russian. It means-" He cleared his throat. " _VampireBoy87_."

"Subtle," Sam said, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "And you trust this… _VampireBoy87_? You don't even know him."

"Trust isn't important for this transaction," Jack shrugged. "But he's helped me out before. Although, I _have_ been trying to get him to show his face. All I get back is this Anne Rice vampire roleplay bullshit." Jack lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's still a little hot, though."

Dean was caught off-guard at that revelation. He never expected _that_ from the angel. "Oh," he realised. "You uh- play for both teams, huh?"

"Why settle for one gender when you can catch 'em all like Pokémon," he quipped like it was nothing. Dean nodded in consideration. A bunch of text appeared on the screen in no time. "He's got it."

"That was… fast," Sam was duly impressed. Jack opened up the incoming image of the map. Marked in green, Vampire Boy had circled four spots which an algorithm deduced. They decided to split up to cover more ground and Jack suggested that Ser Adler could take the fourth spot. After what they'd seen the lizard do, the boys did not question it. "We still don't have a brass knife. What are we gonna do?"

"You're gonna call me, and I'm gonna do in the maggot-festering cunt with my bare hands," Jack stated as a matter-of-fact. "Trust me, there ain't no surviving that."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"Jab, jab, cross," Abaddon instructed, her body moving slowly so as to illustrate the motion.

"Shouldn't I be wearing hand wraps?" Zara asked. The two of them were in the armoury in Lucifer's quarters, attired appropriately for physical activity. Zara's medium-length wavy black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She seemed scrawny in comparison to Abaddon, like she could replace any of the many blades that lined the walls of the room.

"Sure. Do you want that in hot pink with glitter and diamonds too, Princess?" Abaddon snarked, her lifeless grey eyes refusing to spare Zara from cynicism. Zara said nothing. She simply shifted into a fighting stance and performed the movements on a standing punching bag which Abaddon held firmly. "Faster, come on!"

Left fist first. Left fist again. Then right fist. Fast breath in. Fast exhale with every punch. Her muscles grew used to the motion. With every repetition, her thoughts disappeared. Her body moved with purpose. Soon enough, she felt the strain in her arms. But her ceremonious rebirth was fresh enough in her mind that it didn't matter. She pushed on, almost dissociating from the feeling of pain like it was a strange other.

After some varied routines that combined different kinds of punches, Abaddon shifted to getting her to train with the punching pads which the demon would hold up while Zara practised more combinations of punches and kicks. "Punch harder," Abaddon said.

"I'm going as hard as I can," Zara answered, pausing between reps.

"You won't make a _dent_ on a demon like this," the Knight added. The naturally silky voice of her meatsuit always sounded like a grenade ready to blow under the demon's control.

"Hey, I'm trying my best," Zara defended herself. A sigh clouded her mind as she panted for breath. "Pitting me against a demon isn't exactly a fair fight anyway."

"The world isn't fair," Abaddon's eyes threateningly narrowed. "If you don't learn to fight like a demon, you won't last out there."

"You say that but… I'll never actually be able to match up to a demon in strength," she wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. It was only then that a stinging sensation came to her attention. She looked down to see her knuckles bruised and scraped. Her palms quivered when she tried to hold them still. Her maximum effort was reduced to nothing by a Knight of Hell.

"That's not true," a third voice interrupted. The ladies turned to find Lucifer leaning against the door frame. He had a sly smile, like he was hiding a secret. As soon as he got their attention, he straightened up and approached them. "And besides, fighting isn't just about strength."

Zara felt so small around the both of them. They seemed to tower over her in height, experience and strength. Now that she was sober and hardened by Hell, her head seemed more solid than before. None of her previous apprehension towards the demons remained. She felt like a brand new person. Yet, there was this feeling of hollowness within her. It felt like she was both present and absent at the same time. There was a person named Zara moving and talking, but it felt nothing like the Zara that existed before. Lucifer could see it in her eyes – how she awaited his next word with no weakness hiding behind her irises. She seemed but a clay to be moulded into an image of his choice.

"Drop the training pad. Do fist-to-fist," Lucifer ordered.

"But sir, we haven't even started on actual combat," Abaddon worried. Zara was equally alarmed. She knew for sure that she'd get her ass handed to her.

"Don't worry about it," Lucifer dismissed. "Zara already knows enough to fight. Isn't that right, Zara?" She held his gaze with uncertainty gnawing at her. It was true; he _had_ zapped some knowledge into her head that one time long ago. But knowing fighting moves _theoretically_ was not even close to being able to execute said moves in a combat. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to regard her with confidence. There was a twinkle in his icy blue eyes that she'd never quite noticed before. "Just go with your instinct," he told her. And to Abaddon, he said, "Don't hold back."

Lucifer stood aside, close to one of the walls, as the ladies assumed position. They had their forearms up, fists held close to their chins. The air fell deadly silent as they watched each other. Zara concentrated on shifting her balance to her toes as she stared straight into her trainer's eyes. She could tell that Abaddon wanted her to take the first shot, but holy hell, looking into Abaddon's eyes was like having a staring contest with a lion moments before it chewed up its prey and spat out the bones.

One step forward and Zara launched a jab at Abaddon's face. The Knight countered with a parry so forceful it knocked her off balance and instantly delivered a punch to Zara's left cheek. A grunt escaped her lips as she careened to the right. Considering that this was all within the span of a single second, it was a miracle that Zara was still on her feet. Her vision spun immediately as she struggled to straighten up again. The blurry image of Abaddon awaited her strike again. _Okay, faster._ This time she did a jab but immediately stepped back to dodge a retaliatory punch. It worked – she was still on her feet. Before she could congratulate herself for making it so far, Abaddon's fist met her face again.

And so it went. Zara learning something new every step of the way as Abaddon pummelled her face and sometimes her ribs. At one point, Zara did manage to land a punch on Abaddon, which the demon blocked with her forearm. She was so surprised that she had even managed to land four knuckles on the demon that she forgot to dodge the next blow. Then back to square one again.

"You punch like a human," Lucifer commented from the side-lines.

"Don't know if you've noticed, but I _am_ a human," Zara bit back a harsher response. By now, her body was releasing so much heat she could feel a heatwave rising from her body. She bent down, resting palms on her thighs as she heaved for breath. Hot air seemed to fill her ears. And as she looked at her knuckles again, the soreness was like an ocean of red on the back of her hand. Pleasing these people seemed impossible. "How else am I supposed to punch?"

"You humans always punch like you're afraid of getting hurt. I don't know why evolution removed your tails when you like tucking them between your legs so much," he explained with this befuddled look that went along with the animated shrugging of his shoulders. Zara was expressionless. She was almost excited to hear his input until she was reminded of how much he constantly insulted her species status. " But you…" he pointed a finger towards her. "You're gonna be different, alright? You need to learn to clock someone like you're not afraid of breaking some bones. And I mean _your_ bones." At that moment, heavy footsteps dragged through the hallway to his study and Lucifer realised that Hades was back from his mission. He began towards the door. "Your knuckles better be shattered by the time I get back."

 _Great._ Zara's breathing had slowed down to a more comfortable pace now, though her limbs were quivering. Taking a deep breath, she assumed position again.

"How'd it go?" Lucifer inquired the pagan as they retreated to the quiet space at his table.

"I found Horny Boy Dionysus' Playhouse," Hades reported with his hoarse voice. The grey bulk of a god had a permanent frown on his face as he recalled the events of the past month. "He runs underground prostitution ring."

"And?" Lucifer probed, curiosity piqued.

"I haven't had Persephone in years," Hades grumbled. "He has many Persephones."

Lucifer held back rolling his eyes into the back of his skull. Surely, if Hades had found the prostitutes he had also found and done more important things.

"All I said was that I wanted to speak with the bastard," Hades continued, staring at a single point on the table. "She kept screaming. I had no choice. I rip her throat out." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Dionysus didn't come. But he doesn't have much to come back to now."

"That should send a message," Lucifer agreed. "The cockroaches are already scattering after what Zara did."

"I hear I miss out on sexy action. That's not fair, boss," Hades complained. "How come angry redhead gets to watch but I don't?"

"Get over it. Zara doesn't exist for your entertainment," Lucifer calmly asserted. Thus far the conversation was casual, with Lucifer even relaxing in his folded-arm posture. It had been a while since he'd truly felt so in-control but it was an optimistic time – things were working out for him. "She exists for _my_ entertainment." An eyebrow raised as an order not to question him. "Besides, I need to hit Javelin on more than one front at the same time. Make them feel the gravity. No one's gonna dare fight back."

"Their testicles are weak," Hades agreed, clenching his fist in the air in what seemed to be a crushing gesture. "But scared animals fight back, don't they?"

"They might," Lucifer conceded. "Which is why it's imperative that we destroy Javelin. If they can't talk to each other, they can't band against us. Most of them already don't like each other. All we have to do is light the gasoline."

"Not to dip your feathers in river Styx, boss, but the Javelin is like hellhound with no claws. The lie is only known after bitch scratches face off," the pagan pondered. "We must cut off paws."

"Hmm," the archangel considered. This was a question of strategy to him. Hades was right; there was no telling how Javelin might try to fight back. Some new measures were necessary. An ancient memory provided inspiration. "Have I ever told you about my rebellion?"

"You said idiot angels kick you out for making sense," Hades recalled. "Like idiot Zeus kick me out for making sense. Hmph."

"Yes…" Lucifer nodded. "But did I tell you how it all happened? How a war came to be?" Hades remained silent in anticipation, so Lucifer continued, "We didn't want a war. We thought they'd listen to reason…" A scowl slowly overtook Lucifer's expression. "I was wrong to think that they'd know what was best for them. I mean, how could they have been so willingly blind? Feather-brained morons," he puzzled. Barely a moment passed before he shook himself out of it and took a swift inhale. "Anyway, I digress. Looking back, I just wish I'd… planned better. Stupid Mark messed with my head. Thanks, Dad. That's just what I get for helping you save the whole universe, isn't it?" he mumbled, shaking his head in disappointment. Sighing, he said, "If I'd allowed myself to seriously consider a war, I might have done some more things before it came down to it."

"What kind of things?" the pagan perked up. He was ready for an order.

"Well, for one, it woulda been nice to have upped the stakes. Steal some weapons, leave them scrambling in terror," Lucifer told Hades casually. "It wasn't worth it to play nice. That really blew up in my face, didn't it?" Hades simply sat there, unsure of what to say. This wasn't really his area of expertise – the whole rambling, that is. Lucifer found Hades' bored expression and suppressed the urge to tear into him. He soundlessly exhaled through his nostrils as his gaze swept over the table. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ This sometimes happened. He'd sit there, wanting to say something. Wanting to talk to someone. But it was always too personal to talk to anyone. So he'd just be silent. But he'd wonder a what-if – what if Sophie was here? _Dammit. Not again._ "We could have _made_ them take our side."

"So uh…" the grey-skinned being stammered, fiddling his thumbs. "What, uh, do- what's-"

"I have ideas," Lucifer answered before Hades could finish. "I want you to take some demons to Samara. We have intel that Javelin's operating there. I don't want an attack. Not yet. Find out what they're up to and report back."

"You're sure Redhead can't do this?" Hades asked a little dispiritedly.

"You will do as you are told, Pagan," Lucifer uttered forcefully as his eyes narrowed in cynicism. "Abaddon stays here to train Zara."

"Give me a chance, boss. I'll teach the nymph to wrestle," Hades remarked with a serpentine grin. "I'll teach her to hold a sword the right way."

He did a… suggestive gesture with his hand. The archangel was annoyed, more than anything, by the Greek god's persistence yet could not find it in himself to be too frustrated. It was hard enough attempting to care about a human; protecting her from Hades' lustful gaze was a level of commitment to her safety that he wasn't sure he wanted. _She's no use to you if Hades smashes her to dust._

"Alright, I joke, I joke!" Hades held his arms up in surrender as he giggled heartily, which sounded more like the eruption of a volcano than an expression of amusement. "Don't look at me like Michael kicked your Hellhound. You know what you need, boss? You need woman. Maybe next time I bring back one for you."

"I'm monogamous, you clay-brained asshole," Lucifer sharply derided.

"So am I," Hades responded. He had a wide-eyed, sincere look that only befuddled the archangel. Lucifer wondered if he should even point out what was obviously wrong with that statement. But the blank look in the pagan's single eye stopped him.

"There is _no one_ you could find who even comes close to-" he abruptly stopped. Every moment thinking about this just seemed to take him lower. "Forget it. You ever bring this up again with me, I'll chop your knob off and stuff it into your empty eye-hole."

"Have you tried visiting Asgard?" Hades pressed. When Lucifer stared daggers at him, he backed away. "Alright, alright, I'll stop. So, to Russia, then."

"Wait," Lucifer halted him mid-journey to the door. "There's still one thing I need you to do before you leave."

Just as he was about to explain, a loud grunt pierced the air. "Ow!" a female voice yelled. "Mother _fucker_! Ah!"

Lucifer's eyes lit up. "Oh- I think she's done it."

When he entered the armoury, he was greeted by the sight of Zara clutching her right wrist and writhing on the floor while Abaddon stood over her with a wide cherry smile and hands on both her hips. "The pup's finally learnt to bark," she told her boss. Her grey irises were practically glistening with satisfaction. "Rather obscenely, I might add."

"How'd she do?" Lucifer followed up.

Abaddon's chin tightened as she evaluated the punch. "It tickled a little. But her technique's improving. She's learning to be quicker. If I felt something…" she tilted her head in consideration. "…it _could_ hurt an average demon."

"Guys, if you don't mind," Zara called out from her sweaty patch on the ground. Her eyes were tightly shut and it looked like she was tearing up. "I'm… I'm in a little bit of… pain right now." She heaved for breath. "Just a- just a little, you know?"

* * *

 _ **Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 12.36am**_

Zara's nose sniffed the air as she stirred awake. "Ugh," she grimaced. Something smelt severely gross. As it usually was the case, her hands were secured behind her back. This time, she appeared to be laying on her side against a damp floor. Fidgeting on the floor, she nudged herself to a sitting position. Slowly, her senses began to notice her environment. It was dark and it took a while for her to get adjusted to it. Soon enough, she could make out the shape of grates and a door. A distant rushing of water also became obvious, forming a constant white noise in the background. "Please don't tell me I'm where I think I am," she muttered to herself, maintaining a disgusted scowl.

The door creaked open and a figure stepped through, holding an ancient-looking lantern. It was _him._ Zara stiffened where she sat. He looked her right in the eyes as he slowly treaded to the wall opposite her and set the lantern down. She said nothing. The silence between them was uncanny. It was clear that one of them would die in this room. But the fact was that he was wearing the face of someone she was supposed to have killed. Was this retribution for not having done the deed before? The ire in the Rakshasa's scowl seemed the only thing that made sense. That was the look she should have gotten from Jack. From him, from everyone else too. Then it was probably right that it was a monster with Jack's face that would beat some sense into her.

Each footstep echoed without interrupting the last. Their unbroken eye contact seemed to amuse him. He knelt before her with the grace of a cascading waterfall. Zara refused to give him the satisfaction of a nervous greeting so she simply frowned instead.

"Look at you," the Rakshasa spoke. His lips curved into a smile. His words were so gentle it was like he was trying to caress a baby bird with it. Zara tried to back away from him to no avail as his fingers caressed her cheek. "All that hollowness… It's incredible." The way he stroked her cheek so gingerly made her quite sick, she had to admit. It was so stunning how the Rakshasa was this… tender that she was out of her regular grit. "But it's okay. Sometimes we give ourselves up so easily. Just to feel something again. I understand."

"I don't know what you think you understand," she rebutted. A draught wafted in from a grate, bringing with it a piercing smell of sewage. The Rakshasa was unfazed by it but she felt her stomach flip. As if the alcohol wasn't nauseating enough.

"Girls like you… girls with a tender heart…" More unwanted caresses sent shivers through her. "Such precious things you are. Such… delicious things." The Rakshasa took in a strained breath. "I'm the only one you'll ever need. You won't want for anything else in the time we'll spend together."

"Pretty sure I'll want for air that doesn't smell like ass," Zara gagged.

"Sorry about that. The sewers always… get me in the mood," the Rakshasa explained. _That's odd,_ she thought. _That's the first time I've heard a Rakshasa apologise._

"In the mood for what?!" she dared ask.

"Everything." He simply smirked. "I don't like the taste of intimidation."

"That's a first," she huffed, rolling her eyes away.

"Some call it an acquired taste. But it's as natural as it gets for me. I've always been a lover as far as I've known," he muttered despondently. "Not many people are so understanding."

"Did Bidhra know?" Zara brought up. The Rakshasa's eyes snapped into their true reptilian shape at the sound of her name. "Did Bidhra know about your- your kink?"

"How… how do you know her?" he stammered quietly. His eyebrows knotted deeply as he tilted his head in curiosity.

"Springfield," Zara told him. "She dropped a body using your MO and I put her down."

"Wait, it was _you_? She was trying to kill _you_?" Something about that stank to the Rakshasa more than the sewer itself. "Lucifer's assassin."

"Always nice to meet a fan," she dryly added while the confusion continued to toil on his face. Moments passed with him just thinking in silence.

"Huh." He plopped onto a spot right next to her, now sitting with her shoulder-to-shoulder. "Wait, so Bidhra's dead?"

"Yes, _Jesus Christ_ ," Zara grumbled. Everything proceeded at snail's pace for this guy. _When is he gonna kill me?_

"That'll show _that_ _bitch_ ," he suddenly said. This time it was Zara's turn to be surprised. "Too stupid to make her own pattern so she steals mine. And she can't even do that right," he rambled, pulling his legs up closer to his chest. _"('They're all young girls. What does it matter? Fondled before death or not, Durga still gets a goat'),"_ the Rakshasa mockingly imitated Bidhra in his native Hindi. Zara was befuddled. She wondered what the Hindu goddess Durga had to do with anything. _"(Doesn't respect me. Doesn't respect my art. But still wants 'the goat'.)"_

"O… kay," she interjected, as if to remind the Rakshasa that she was there.

"I guess I should thank you," he pulled a hand down his face as he contemplated his dead friend. "I never liked collaborating with other people."

"Great. Now we know that this is all a great big misunderstanding," she sighed, partly in relief. _Hey, this might not be so bad after all._ "So… let me go. I'll…" she gulped, slightly in repugnance. "I'll leave you to your… _(art)_. I'm not your target demographic anyway."

"But you are," he said, staring straight ahead at the lantern. "I can sense it. Your… frustration."

"Woah, hold up," she snapped defensively. "Frustration? I'm the best I've ever been in a long time. I have everything I could possibly want, okay?"

"Not everything," the Rakshasa calmly disagreed as he angled himself toward her. "Whatever Lucifer gives you, he can't give you the one thing you need."

"Now it's like you're actually Jack," she scoffed. She'd have folded her arms if she could. "I don't need to hear it from either of you assholes. You're both wrong."

"It'll all be over soon. We have a connection now. I'll mend your broken heart before I eat it," he reassured her. A sly grin spread across his jaw. "I suppose I won't have to change either. You seem to prefer Jack."

"What? Ew," she recoiled in her seat. "No," she shook her head.

"Many women do. He is a charming guy," the Rakshasa pondered with a malicious zeal in his eye. "I should have become Jack's manager instead of Danny's. Do you know how hard it was to convince women that they should want Danny? I didn't believe my own words half the time."

"Okay, look. I don't think of Jack that way," Zara set it straight. It was so strange that she even had to say that out loud.

"You will now," he shifted his weight to get up, settling in a half-squat opposite her again. He took a deep breath of the rancid air. "Now _that's_ perfect," he moaned. Zara bit back a disgusted remark at the sight of his heavy chest heaving. "I should take to the sewers more."

"Then why didn't you? You killed all those girls in their own homes," she challenged as his deathly grip secured her in his arms.

"Oh, you know, I had to _attempt_ to mask my trail. It was the least I could do," he spoke through thirsty breaths. Shoving her to the floor, he immediately lowered himself to her level and cupped her cheeks with his palms. Their faces were in fatal proximity. "I _was_ going to wait until after the festival to hunt again. But the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted you. Your pull is so strong, like a black hole."

"Then write a song and name it after me, _(motherfucker)_ ," she groaned. Every moment she had to stare into his eyes – Jack's eyes – seeing that dirty gaze he had made her physically sick, as if the sewer stench wasn't enough.

"Your anger, your… emptiness was so _powerful_ I could smell it from the moment I entered," he pressed his forehead against hers and took a sharp inhale. "And then I heard you fight with Jack and I just _knew_ that you were perfect for me. I'm sorry he hurt you. And I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to savour you. Soon, we will be one. We will complete each other."

It was a futile attempt to try and crane her head away from him. His palms were a brace around her head and his fingernails began to morph into claws. She immediately withdrew her awareness to within her. A spark of energy lit up in her core. With a sharp grunt, the spark exploded and she managed to send a blast-wave in his direction, flinging him backwards. She panted heavily, eyes glowing emerald, as she finally felt herself free of his presence. But that wasn't all – the spark she channelled had been so powerful that it had cut through the ropes binding her wrists. Zara scrambled to her feet.

Her path to the door appeared unobstructed. But first, she grabbed the lantern and hurled it at the monster. The glass broke and the oil inside spilled all over him, setting him on fire. The Rakshasa yelled at the sudden burst of heat as the golden flames danced on him. Hoping that would be distraction enough, she made for the door. Her bare feet thudded against the rough cement floor as she took off through the tunnel. She didn't even know if she was going in the right direction. In retrospect, she regretted her decision to destroy the lantern. It was really dark and she didn't have enough of her eye _kohl_ on to see with Sophia's light. _Fuck me for cleaning off my make-up before bed._ Instead, she hoped to keep going until she found light.

A sliver of streetlight appeared around a corner. _Perfect._ She hurried towards it. There was a barred grate leading to the street above her and a ladder. One foot stepped on the rung.

"Not so fast," a voice hissed behind her. Her free leg fell victim to the Rakshasa's grasp and he yanked her backwards.

The breath was knocked right out of her lungs as her back hit the wall several feet away. The Rakshasa rapidly advanced towards her. Adrenaline shot through her like a spike of lightning. She sprinted towards him and used the wall to launch herself onto him. In doing so, she knocked him off balance and managed to land a blow on his face. She pummelled him with both hands until he regained his composure and hurled her backwards. She fell noisily back-first right under the grate.

At that moment, the light falling on her face suddenly seemed to disappear. When her vision focused, she realised that it wasn't that the light had disappeared, but rather, someone was blocking it. "Zara?" a familiar voice called out.

"Sam!" she yelled back.

"Zara, are you okay?" he worried. He tried to find a gap between the bars of the grate that would best allow him to see her face. He clicked on a flashlight to see her better. Just then, he caught sight of a figure rushing her, pushing her out of his frame of vision. "Zara!" he shouted. "Hang in there!" He scrambled to get out his phone and dial a number. The seconds were awfully tense as the phone rang. Sam heard some struggling noises and hoped that her grunting noises wouldn't suddenly disappear. "Jack, I found her. Get over here!"

The Rakshasa hurled a fist at her. She twisted her torso, narrowly dodging the punch. She lowered her hips and launched a punch at his ribs. Not stopping at one, she pulled back as fast as she could and punched again, but much harder. Pain surged through her knuckles but she was too focused to care. She ducked to miss another blow and switched hands this time to rapidly strike his face. With every punch, her energy built up. It wasn't easy to faze the monster, but her speed was starting to take its effect. Until her rhythm reached its maximum. Channelling the hawk, she felt its power flood her arm as she pounded a fist against his cheek. His head careened to the side. Wasting no second, she kneed him in the gut and shoved him to the ground.

Meanwhile, Sam had promptly moved to lift the heavy grate. A flap of wings sounded out of nowhere and the archangel appeared before him. "He's with her," Sam's lips quivered the information. Jack lifted a foot over the open grate and dropped in vertically, landing with barely any noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. Zara was on top of the Rakshasa, who lay supine on the ground. Her fists moved so forcefully and aggressively that it even started to give him pause. Of course, his surprise was short-lived when the Rakshasa finally retaliated, flipping her into his position. Jack charged forward while Sam made it down carefully using the ladder.

"Hey, Handsome. It's illegal to look this good," Jack grabbed the Rakshasa and propelled him towards the sewer wall. When he got his turn to knock the crap out of the Rakshasa, the first strike was so hard that the Rakshasa morphed into his previous form as Larry, falling to the floor and touching a trembling hand to his cheek.

"What- what are you?" the old man's eyes widened in terror. Sam used the opening to rush to Zara, holding her in his arms as she decided to succumb to the fatigue. She winced a little and he looked down to see her scraped and bruised knuckles.

"Your nightmare," Jack hopped on one leg and kicked the creature in the gut with the other. The Rakshasa was propelled backwards and rolled on the ground until he finally came to a stop. Jack lifted him up by the collar and held him close to his face. The old man Larry – or the Rakshasa borrowing his face – never could have known what he'd come face-to-face with that night. He felt the power of the being in front of him radiating in waves, each pulse petrifying him more than the last. It felt like being hopelessly caught in a tsunami as the waves crashed around you. And when he looked into Jack's eyes – really, deeply looked with his keen reptilian senses – he saw a fury burning so hot that he didn't dare look any further.

Jack clamped his palms around the Rakshasa's neck and with a tight pull, he ripped apart the creature down the middle as easily as tearing a piece of paper. A slobbery mess of blood and guts lay limp at his feet.

* * *

 _ **The Motel, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 1.20am**_

"Ser Adler was worried sick about you, man," Jack confessed with concern contorting his eyes close to the point of tears but never really reaching there. In his hands, he'd cradled Ser Adler and stroked his back gently. Ser Adler in turn purred in his lizard tongue and stuck a tiny hand towards Zara. The archangel extended his hands to her side of the table to bring the lizard closer to her.

"Uh… thanks, Adler," Zara croaked with a weary voice. The four of them sat around the motel table in her room after she'd insisted on taking a shower to wash the smell of the sewers off. It felt like she needed more than one shower but this would have to do for now. As much as it was normal for her to be broiled in situations like the one she'd just escaped, it was a new, comfortable feeling to be surrounded by people who cared. Even if her relationship with two of them was built on a huge lie. Even seeing the lizard brought some solace to her. She smirked and touched a finger to his raised paw. She could have sworn that the lizard was smiling at her.

"So what happened? Did he say anything to you?" Sam probed. His heart was finally at rest to see her but it was uncanny to see all the bruises and scars she'd accumulated in that time. But she was strong. She was unbothered by it. It gave him some relief to know that she had a strong stomach for these kinds of things, as well as a knack for getting out alive.

Zara contemplated the experience. It had been quite unsettling to learn of the Rakshasa's… fetish. And the fact that he had Jack's face on at the time… "No, he didn't talk much," she said, shrugging. "Which was how I _knew_ that it wasn't actually Jack. I'm there thinking like, 'Is something wrong with him? He should be having seizures by now.' Because he's always _itching_ to say something-"

"Okay, I get it. I don't shut up. _Jesus_ ," Jack defended, mocking an offended expression. "And you seemed _a little too happy_ to pound his face into a pulp."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, forehead creasing into a slight frown. "What happened back there?"

"I woulda done that too," Dean argued, puzzled that they were even discussing this. "If someone with Sammy's face was gonna eat me, my best bet would have been to pull his Rapunzel locks." He chuckled though Sam raised an eyebrow.

"No, uh, her hand was broken," Sam told him. He held up the back of his hand and pointed to illustrate the damage. "Four fingers. All shattered."

"Damn," Dean remarked. He didn't know if he was worried about her or admired her. "That's… that's something."

"Something _dangerous,_ you mean. Something _stupid_ ," Jack berated. Of course, he'd been the one to heal her before they made it back to the motel so he had something to say, as usual, about it.

"Okay, look. I don't have big, meaty arms like you boys," Zara passionately defended herself. "Yeah, sometimes I gotta stick it to the bad guy to survive. And yeah, sometimes that's gonna hurt my frail girl fingers. You got a problem with that?"

"Uh, no," Dean answered with stunned, wide eyes. "N-not at all. You go, ma'am."

"Alright, so what's next?" Sam began. _A 15-hour nap, hopefully,_ Zara thought.

"We kick back, relax and chill backstage," Jack leaned back into his chair, gleaming with excitement. "After you come see the show tomorrow, that is."

"Oh, the show," Sam recalled. He'd never thought much of it till then, but the possibility of having some fun eased him up a little.

"Yeah, the show," Jack nodded slowly. "Are you guys in?"

"Yeah, what the hell. I'm in," Sam assented, throwing up his hands. "Guys?"

Zara and Dean nodded, both displaying different levels of consideration but equally certain. " _Yes_ ," Jack shook his fist animatedly. His tightly stretched lips parted to reveal his teeth as he chuckled heartily. Just then, his sharp eyes detected something. They immediately panned to the window. The night's blanket of darkness lay beyond but glowing orange eyes hovered at the windowsill. The unusual fading of his smile and targeted gaze caught their attention. The others turned to look at what he was looking at.

"Is that… a monkey?" Dean identified. No one said anything but they all agreed with his assessment. A tiny brown monkey stared at them from outside the motel window. "Hey, little guy…" Dean waved at the creature. As cute as it was, Jack was a little bothered by it. He'd seen it in the alley. He'd seen it when they confronted Crowley. And here it was again. The same monkey.

"Should we let him in? It's cold outside," Sam proposed.

"Okay, but you're cleaning up after him," Zara replied. "If it's even a 'him'."

"Hey, you can get Ser Adler a little friend," Dean smirked to Jack. But the way the angel stared unblinkingly and curiously at the monkey seemed unlike of him.

"Ser Adler has lots of little friends," Jack emotionlessly mumbled. "Isn't this just strange?"

"Sure, but so is the amount of hair you'd find on Sammy's hair brush," Dean mocked, lips upturned goofily on one side.

"It's a comb," Sam corrected.

"As a fellow cranially-gifted being, Sam, don't listen to the haters," Jack advised with a half-grin. " _The hair is sacred_. But no, what I mean is… since when were there monkeys in North America?"

It was only when he'd brought that up did they all realise that they did not have an answer.


	74. Headfirst

**Sophia's Chronicles**

 **Recap of last chapter:** Zara and Jack have a little heart-to-heart where they talk about Hell and stuff, before she gets nabbed by the Rakshasa. Jack has a weird connection to a no-name no-face Russian hacker on the Deep Web who helps them find Zara. Rakshasa dead, the three chill in Zara's motel room. Jack notices a strange creature watching them from outside the window. In the flashback, Lucifer gets Zara to 'punch like a demon' and gives Hades an assignment in Russia.

 **Chapter 74: Headfirst**

 _ **The Motel, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 1.35am**_

"Since when were there monkeys in North America?" Jack wondered, maintaining a semi-neutral tone. While the others pondered his question, he got up and approached the window. Cautiously, he lifted up the window pane. The monkey was still, simply reciprocating his curiosity. He sunk to one knee with enough gentleness that it wouldn't startle the monkey. He offered a palm to it.

In that moment, Zara felt a small pulse radiating from Jack. _Huh. That's strange._ But no one else seemed to have noticed. As if unused to the gesture, the monkey's orange bulb eyes flickered between the palm and him, wide in amazement. It accepted his invitation and with their palms together, Jack flashed a warm, welcoming smile. In no time, he made it back to the table with the monkey's hands around his shoulder like a toddler in a parent's arms.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself, Paws," Jack purred, eagerness written all over his face with that radiant pearly smile again.

The way Jack's expressions changed from curious to amused to sceptical to neutral within the span of a minute suggested that all his attention was focused on the monkey, which in turn made chattering and gibbering noises. At one point, he nodded his head in serious consideration like he was being told something really interesting but he said absolutely nothing.

"Is- is he talking to the monkey?" Dean whispered.

Sam shrugged. Zara was just captivated by the sight that she didn't know what to say. They let this go on for a while, not really knowing when to intrude.

"So… what's he saying?" Dean finally broke the silence. His eyebrows were a slope confused between the steepness of a frown and the gentleness of astonishment. Jack continued to be in a telepathic conversation with the animal. "Hello…? Ground control to Major Tom?"

"Huh, what?" Jack looked up momentarily, meeting their dazed looks. "Oh, he says he's a spy."

"What?" Sam worried. "Did you say, 'A spy'?"

"Yeah," Jack huffed like it was the most ridiculous thing ever. " _And_ he's getting severely underpaid for the job." Looking to the monkey, he said, "You should be getting at least _five_ bananas a day, Paws." The monkey chirped in agreement, even lamenting more with animated hand gestures. "Yeah, stick it to the man, boy."

"Jack, elaborate," Zara ordered, stone-faced. Her arms were folded as she regarded the angel. Being back in his presence was a refreshing change and even though she didn't want to put it in words, there was a warm sensation where her heart was. She thought it unsettling but really, she liked it. The sheer… _contrast_ to the monster with his face earlier – it was an unexpected reckoning. Things appeared clearer now.

"Apparently, Paws here is one of many little cute boys running around town. Works for some…" his eyes crinkled slightly as he tried to discern the little creature's ramblings. "Some Hindu god, by the sound of it. He's supposed to…" Jack's pupils craned to meet hers. "He's supposed to keep an eye on you."

"Oh, that's nice," she shrugged.

"Okay, wait," Sam interjected. "What the hell is even going on?"

"That's a great question, Sam," Jack nodded, shooting Zara a stern look. She narrowed her eyes in turn.

"I mean, I get that you must be on some kind of hit list. You did say you… messed with that Javelin thing," he recalled. "So it makes sense that they'd want revenge. But this? This monkey's had eyes on you this whole time. Why haven't they done anything yet? Unless… that Rakshasa nabbing you was part of it."

"I… highly doubt that," Zara remembered the Rakshasa's ramblings with a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Maybe they don't want her dead," Dean guessed. "Crowley did say he needed Zara for a negotiation."

"But he got what he wanted," Zara rebutted with askance. "He stole the archangel blade. What more could he want from me?"

"Hmm…" Dean leaned back into his chair as he contemplated the situation. "And the other Rakshasa from a few weeks ago…"

"Bidhra," she reminded him.

"Jeez, how many _are_ there?" Jack's head shrunk back as he struggled to keep pace with the conversation.

"She said that Ravana wanted to offer you as a sacrifice to Shiva," Dean summarised. Lines of concentration riddled his forehead.

"Who's gonna do _what_ now?" Jack's eyes widened.

"Jack, please," Zara sighed and rubbed her temple while fatigue dragged her eyelids.

"You've just been a busy bee, haven't you? Going 'round the block, getting into trouble," he remarked. The last sentence was more of a solemn note-to-self than a commentary on her activities.

"Anyway," Dean interrupted with a mild eye-roll. "It seems kinda odd that they wanted to kill you just about 2 weeks ago and now they're stepping on the brakes. What changed?"

Zara let out a measured exhale. "Guess we'll find out," she simply said. "What're we gonna do about it?"

"You guys aren't gonna do anything. For now," Jack stated as a matter of fact, getting up. He had Paws on one shoulder and Ser Adler on the other. "I'm gonna head back, find some place where Paws can hang while you guys recharge. I mean, it's like you guys never catch a break."

"Are you sure? Don't you have like, a show to get ready for?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, yeah I can handle it. It's just sound checks and rehearsal. Easy peasy," Jack dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Now, I want you all refreshed and ready to have the time of your lives," he ordered. Then, looking to the heavens, he muttered, "I swear, I'm not letting anyone or anything get in the way of this."

"Alright, it's settled then," Zara optimistically concluded. "See you tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep."

"Oh, and, just in case," he cradled Ser Adler with his palm and set him on the table. "Ser Adler's gonna watch over you. Can't have you disappearing again."

Zara eyed her new roommate, whose beady eyes regarded her with a reciprocal curiosity.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

Hades stood imposingly at the door. The way he eyed the guest, with that one-sided smirk and arms folded, sent shivers through her body. At least Zara was grateful to not have his attention on herself this once. Yet, she felt the weight of the three other demons' gazes as the two ladies sat on opposite sides of the medium-width table that had been set up in her room. Lower jaw trembling, all colour lost, Esther didn't even dare meet Zara's gaze. Though the witch didn't say a word, Zara could see the trauma bottled up within her, waiting to explode at any moment. There were no visible wounds or blood – she'd been healed and cleaned up. For the first time in a long time, her marble complexion could be seen again, along with her slender nose and sharp chin. But whatever she'd been through in the dungeons, she seemed unable to escape it.

"Witch, Zara. Zara, Witch," Hades introduced them to each other as he plodded towards the table in the centre of the room. Esther's head remained tilted downwards while Zara merely studied her with a single eyebrow dipped in a harmless frown. Seeing that, Hades grabbed the back of Esther's freshly-washed black, wavy hair and forced her head up. With a gasp and a surge of panic in her emerald eyes, Esther finally looked at Zara. "Meet your new student."

Esther's trembling did not cease and her breaths grew more rapid. Zara saw nothing but terror in her eyes. "Does she have a name?" Zara emotionlessly asked.

"I don't know, _do_ you have a name, teacher?" Hades asked, his lips uncomfortably close to her ear. "Tell her your name." The witch struggled tensely to be free from his presence, to no avail. Instead, she whimpered softly under her breath. "She asked a question…" He cupped her jaw with his other hand, as if that should motivate her to open her mouth.

Zara felt something. Perhaps a tingle in her chest. But nothing more. As an onlooker, this spectacle just seemed to be a waste of time. But this was just the way things were done in Hell, she told herself. It had been a while and nothing came out of the tense silence.

"You won't need those vocal chords if you aren't going to use them," Dan spoke up at Zara's side as he brandished a small knife. Esther only shrunk back further into her seat.

"Could you get us some water please, Dan?" Zara asked, head turned towards him but eyes directed to the table. The demon held a fiery glare on the witch with his black eyes for a threatening pause before he fulfilled Zara's order. Soon enough, he returned with a tray containing a jug and two glasses. "Hades, let her go."

An incomprehensible mumble later, he obliged, leaving the witch to nervously rub her neck. It was then that Zara noticed the cuffs she had around her wrists. "Give me ten minutes and bed alone with bitch, I'll make her talk," he coarsely proposed.

"No thanks," Zara refused confidently. Arms folded and leaning back against the chair, she wondered why Lucifer thought this would work. "I think you've done what you needed to. You can leave now."

"I don't take orders from you, Kitty. Unless it's under the sheets," Hades grinned. Zara suppressed an eye-roll. Leaning close to Esther again, he said, "Boss says you must make her good at magic. If you don't, you and I will have to talk again."

With that, he marched out the door to do whatever he had on next. "Drink," Zara ordered. When Hades left, it felt like the end of an earthquake – air, quiet, and ground, stable. Having a guy so big in a room could be claustrophobic. Fingers shaking, Esther's palms slowly inched across the table to encircle the glass. A couple gulps later, a satisfied exhale exited her lips. "So… what should I call you?"

The witch's expression remained sombre, but she made eye contact this time. "Esther." Her voice was so soft that Zara almost didn't catch it. But this was a start.

Dan laid a few books on the table. They had hard covers and smelled old. When Zara tried to flip a page on one of them, dust floated from the book. Inside, they contained several diagrams and symbols that Zara didn't quite understand. "You heard Hades. You have to teach her how to use magic," Dan commanded. The other two demons were standing guard at the door. "So get on with it."

"It's…" Esther cleared her throat. "It's not something that comes naturally for everyone."

"Let's say that it won't be a problem for me." Zara breathed in and focused, momentarily closing her eyes. When she opened them again, her irises glowed a celestial green. "Where do we begin?"

Esther glanced between the books, Zara and Dan, unsure of her every word. "I'll… I'll need t-to understand you b-better," she began. "If I h-have to teach you to use your p-powers."

"Okay, what do you wanna know?" Zara asked in turn. Esther reached out her handcuffed hands to Zara, grounding her forearms on the table. Hesitantly, Zara placed a palm into both of Esther's. A while passed. The witch's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Nothing happened.

"The cuffs are dampening my abilities," Esther stated, voice still uncertain. Zara observed her. She seemed, in that dull beige gown they'd given her, like a trembling puppy brought in from the cold – seeking warmth and easily spooked. The feebleness never left her eyes. It seemed interesting to Zara how much sympathy Esther could get just by looking the way she did. Being surrounded by demons, of course, made this less obvious. It was educational nonetheless. Zara turned to Dan and nodded.

"No. No way. She's tricking you," Dan denied, defiantly crossing his arms.

"You can't teach magic… without using magic," Esther muttered. Dan threateningly stepped towards her and she immediately shrunk back in her seat.

"Dan," Zara interjected. "Just do it."

"But what if she tries to hurt you?" he protested.

"Isn't that what the three of you are here for? Do your jobs," Zara countered firmly. "Uncuff her."

With a reluctant huff, Dan eventually moved to do as he was told. "You try anything funny, you'll lose a finger," he warned the witch.

She rubbed the skin of her wrists like it was a long-forgotten pleasure before offering her palms again. Four fingers on each of Zara's hands were clutched gently in Esther's palms as the witch used her keen senses. Zara's eyes glowed again as the witch sought some kind of connection. In her mind, it felt like Esther's magic was brushing against a wall, seeking entry. Zara let her in, albeit cautiously. Their connection was like the meeting of two sparks – both powerful and careful in navigating the territory around each other. There had to be a balance between Esther studying Zara and Zara controlling her own power – a healthy distance. One misstep could be unfavourable and they both seemed acutely aware of it. Having learnt to control her breath, Zara found it possible to keep focus. Yet, something about Esther lured her in. After all, it was strange to have someone in your head and not study them in return.

The sparks touched. A flash of images cut through Zara's mind. Darkness, dampness and pain – everything flooded her at once. Their hands flinched apart. Esther averted her eyes.

"What happened?" Dan caught on to the subtle but sudden change. "Did she do something?"

"No," Zara denied almost immediately. The wave of shock that had hit her just seconds earlier was dissipating but still, the feeling was fresh in her mind. And it was familiar. "It's going fine." Then, to Esther, "Did you find what you needed?"

Esther regarded her with a slightly befuddled gaze, scanning her unfazed expression up and down. "Yes," she answered. "Your magic is… very strong. Stronger than an angel."

"It's archangel magic," Zara explained.

Esther nodded. "Then let's begin," she said.

* * *

 _ **The Motel, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 11am**_

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Dean opened the door, beer in one hand and the remains of a sandwich in his mouth. "Good afternoon," he greeted Zara. She entered the motel room with a rested glow on her face and Ser Adler on her shoulder, pleased to find out how tame he really was. The lizard had a wisdom about him, though he spoke little. When she came to regroup with the boys in the morning, she was puzzled to find a third entity in the room, speaking in tones of giggles and nostalgia with Sam.

"Jack, you're here," she noticed. Sam and the archangel turned to her with smiles freshly seeded on their jaws. "What's… going on? Don't you have sound checks and all that?"

"Later, yes," he answered, eyes glistening to rest upon her. "But until then, I thought I'd drop by and check on you. I was just telling the boys how much I missed you."

"Oh no," she lamented as she studied the shared amusement in their eyes. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing much," Sam shrugged with a playfully upturned lip.

"I was just telling Sam about your eternal struggle with literature in high school," Jack said before immediately breaking out into a giggle. "You never did learn the difference between an allegory and a metaphor. And I remember you were all like, 'Why's the curtain blue? Because it's blue!'"

"That was you, Jack," she reminded him. "You have the humour of a fourteen-year old."

"Cask of Armadillo?" Dean chimed in with an amused but plain expression on his face, as he handed her an uncapped beer.

"That was one time, Jack!" she lightly hit him on the shoulder. "So this what you been doing all morning, huh? Dragging my name through the dirt?"

"Had to fill them in on us somehow," he winked.

"We've all been there, Zara," Sam reassured her. "Struggling with school is quite normal."

"It's hard to imagine _you_ struggling with school, Mr Stanford Law," Zara rebutted as she took a seat next to Dean opposite the two of them at the round table.

"You set the bar pretty high yourself, Ms PhD. I mean, _Dr_ PhD," Sam shot back. "She writes a thesis by day and kicks ass by night. The superhero we all need."

"I passed chemistry once," Dean added, to the befuddled looks of the others. "Just wanted to put that out there."

"And apparently, I dropped out of angel school," Jack joked.

Soon enough, the team got to their next pressing matter, which was the issue of the strange helmet Jack found at Crowley's hideout. It was poised on the table, all rusty and creepy-like. Sam had gone out and gotten some books from a local library in the morning so Dean and Zara scanned through them while he fiddled with a laptop. Meanwhile, Jack announced that it was time for Ser Adler's breakfast. Without his needing to say so, Ser Adler crept down Zara's shoulder slowly enough that it didn't startle her. Still, everything about the lizard was new to her. She placed her palm on the table so that he could crawl onto it and make it to Jack. Midway, however, Jack decided that he'd do something fun. He made appear a small container of live crickets in his hand and tossed them one by one in Adler's direction. And just as he'd hoped, Adler pounced up to catch them in his mouth and chew them. Jack couldn't be a prouder parent.

"Okay, so, get this," Sam began, casting a curious side-eye to Jack but not questioning the sight. "Judging by the make and the rust, it's a Corinthian helmet straight from Greece. The question now is, who did it belong to?"

"It does feel wacky," Jack tossed another cricket to Adler.

"Wacky?" Dean pressed. "What d'you mean?"

"My magical senses are tingling," he shrugged. "Makes sense. I mean, why would Crowley want something like this if it couldn't mojo something for him? But… what does it do? Here," he passed the box of crickets across the table to Zara, who seemed all but ready to handle the responsibility. He took the helmet in his hands and inspected it, turning it about and squinting at it really hard. "Hm."

Zara picked up a little cricket, holding it up between her two fingers as she grimaced. The insect's little legs squirmed about, protesting its fate, but Ser Adler's expectant pose helped her ignore it. _Here goes,_ she thought as she tossed the cricket to Adler. She suppressed a flinch as Adler shot up and caught it between his jaws before chewing the creature. _Not bad._

"Hey Adler, take a look at this," Jack called out, scooping up the reptile and placing him on his shoulder. Now both archangel and familiar were studying the helmet. Zara held up another cricket, unsure if she should continue feeding Adler, but Adler's eyes seemed to beckon her. She hurled one. Sure enough, Ser Adler expertly caught his food like before. A small grin of victory spread across her jaw. Confident, she threw another one rather haphazardly. The trajectory of her shot was a great miscalculation, however. Time seemed to slow down as she realised her mistake. The flight of the mid-air cricket seemed to be directed at Jack instead. Dean was increasingly intrigued by the drama himself, like an avid sports fan waiting to see a ball hit the goalpost. Zara tensed, mentally preparing an apology for the cricket that would land on his chin.

But, as she watched, Jack was seamless. Eyes still maintained on the helmet, his lips parted and his tongue lapped up the cricket. A crunching sound indicated he chewed and he gulped to swallow. "I got nothing," he casually reported. Zara suppressed a gag and simply set down the container on the table instead. _Not doing that anymore._

Dean cleared his throat. "Let me see that thing," he took his turn to fiddle with the helmet. "Maybe we should just try it on and see what happens."

"If it's a magical object, you probably shouldn't," Sam warned. "What if it's cursed?"

"Didn't do anything so far," Dean countered, eyeing the helmet with a morbid curiosity. "It can't be _too_ bad, right? Guys?"

"Eh," Jack tilted his head with a positively uncertain expression.

Zara gave him a half-shrug. "You can be the guinea pig," she suggested.

"Alright then," he flipped the helmet upside down so that the orifice invited his head.

"Dude, don't," Sam stopped him. "I'm serious. We don't know what this thing is, what it does, so just hold your horses."

"Exactly. We don't have any idea what it is. We've jumped headfirst into danger for less," Dean argued. "And angel-school dropout here isn't any help either. No offence."

Jack shook his head, somewhat in amusement, watching where Dean was going with this. Ser Adler clucked something into Jack's ear and he listened attentively, all while maintaining a wary gaze on the object. "Yeah, no. Ser Adler thinks you're both right. This helmet thing could do anything from bringing back Centurion fashion to possibly chopping your head off _clean_ at the neck. But we won't truly know unless you put it on."

"That's encouraging," Zara remarked.

"Ah, well," Dean stammered at the thought of losing his head, unconsciously rubbing his neck. "You're bringing me back if something happens, right?"

"Sure," Jack leaned to rest his elbow on an armrest. Dean could have sworn a malicious glee flashed across Jack's hazel eyes as the archangel watched him.

"Alright, here goes. Geronimo." Dean slipped the helmet on as fast as he could and shut his eyes tightly.

"Dean?" The sound of his little brother's voice was a comforting sign. But as he opened his eyes, he only came face to face with the blank looks on their faces, searching the air like a flight of bumble-bees circled his head. He looked about himself but found nothing out of the ordinary. "Dean?!" Sam called out again, panic more imminent in his tone.

"What?" Dean called back. Zara flinched at his side. Jack merely squinted at the air where Dean was seated. "Y'all look like you've seen a ghost."

"W-where are you?" Zara asked, eyes darting vaguely about the air where the voice came from.

"I- I haven't moved," he answered. "What's going on? Am I okay? Jack?"

"It seems that you are currently invisible," Jack stroked his chin all thoughtful-like. "Are you experiencing any kind of pain, hm? Any headaches, dizziness, nausea… blood dripping out of your orifices? And you'd better check the backdoor too, just in case."

"No, I'm not- Hm." Dean lifted up his butt to be sure. No stains on his pants. "I'm not having any of that."

"Then I think we have an answer, folks," Jack concluded. "It's Christmas at Hogwarts and you're Harry Potter."

"Huh?" That one stumped even Dean.

"You know," Jack flipped a palm to beckon understanding. "When Dumbledore gives Harry the cloak of invisibility?" Silence. "Seriously? You guys need to get a life."

Two hands poised on the sides of the helmet, Dean drew it off his head, holding it firmly between both palms. His eyebrows were sloped steeply as he regarded his brother and Zara. "Am I back?"

"Yeah, you can stop blue-steeling," Sam said. They remained like this, in stunned, awkward silence, before Sam heaved a deep breath in and turned his attention back to his laptop. "Okay, so… a helmet that turns you invisible. That narrows the list down." He tapped a few buttons on the keyboard. "Helm of Hades."

 _Is that so?_ Zara took note of that. Upon realising the identity of the helmet, Dean flipped the book he had with him to the proper page. " _Helm of Hades_ ," he recited. " _Also known as the Cap of Invisibility_. Yeah, no kidding. _Used by Hades to fight Kronos…_ blah blah blah… last seen… _used by Athena in the War Against the Giants._ "

"So what would Crowley want with the _Helm of Hades_?" Zara asked. The question was on her lips but an action was on her mind. Her fingers twitched restlessly under the table and she hid it by fiddling with her fingers.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jack spoke up, now calmer and more serious than he was moments ago. "He has a very powerful archangel sword in his bank. And now, this thing? He's preparing to attack a _certain_ archangel."

"Lucifer wouldn't be able to see it coming," Sam deduced. "Not a bad plan, actually. Lucifer can't fight what he can't see."

"But what do we have when Crowley kills Satan and has the pagans for a fanbase?" Dean said.

Jack's eyes roved over the table ominously, their hazel glowing like they dripped fresh honey. "A recipe for disaster," he said sombrely. He remained like that for a while, until he checked his phone at which point his tone immediately flipped like a light switch. "Oh would ya look at the time? The sun is high in the sky and the guitars ain't gonna check themselves. I'll catch you later, alligators."

He got up, chirpy, and put on his black leather jacket over his Sepultura T-shirt – the one with the red skull on it. Zara stared at his movement, pensive, as he promptly exited the room. Barely a second passed when she too got up, meaning to hurry after him. "I think I'll hang with him for a while. Catching up and all that," she mumbled an excuse. "You guys don't mind, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam stood to put the helmet back into a designated box decorated with all kinds of warding. "Have fun." She seemed in a hurry but his ambient smile gave her a reason to pause. She gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving. When Sam turned back around to face his brother, he couldn't help the satisfied grin plastered on his jaw.

"You sap," Dean teased.

"Shut up."

Outside, Zara walked in leaping steps to catch up to Jack, who walked twice as fast as a Winchester – a true struggle for anyone who could barely keep up with the boys' casual pace. "Hey, wait up," she called out after him.

"Hey, you," Jack warmly greeted her. She hooked her hand at his elbow and they carried on along the sidewalk. "You comin' with? Niiice."

"Just walk," she ordered, routinely checking her surroundings. Jack observed her silently before his eyes flickered back to the front in understanding.

"What's going on?" he casually asked. "Do you need anything? Water? A burger? Something to help you loosen the fuck up?"

"If anyone asks where I've been, I was with you the whole time," she curtly said. "Can you do that for me?"

"Only if you tell me what you're doing," he demanded with his typical playful manner. "Where are you sneaking off to without your new boyfriend, huh?"

"You heard what went on in there. Crowley's going all in to take on Lucifer. And _Helm of Hades_? That calls for an urgent meeting with the boss," she explained.

"We have the helmet. Crowley can't do much without it," Jack remarked.

"But the fact that he even had it in the first place… what else could he have collected? We didn't think he was gonna be much of a problem before but now… I don't know," Zara admitted. "Besides, I'd think Hades would want his helmet back."

"You're in touch with Hades?" he puzzled.

"He's with us," she haphazardly revealed.

"So what, you wanna steal the helmet from the Winchesters and deliver it back to Hades?"

"That's the plan."

"And what would Sam and Dean think about that?" he posited. Zara's eyebrows creased into a mildly vexed frown.

"It's not about what they think," she answered softly. "The job comes first. And what they don't know can't hurt them."

"Are you're sure this is what you want to do?" he pressed. A mild breeze blew from behind them. His hand pushed back the intruding locks of his hair with a single sweep up his forehead.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't know," he mumbled with a shrug. "It just seems like the safest place right now is with them. And you're talking about sabotaging people who've accepted you."

"I don't know if you're _choosing_ not to see what I'm doing, but since you wanted me to be honest, let me tell you this: being close to them is just a means to an end," she spelled it out emotionlessly.

"Really?" He sounded rather cynical. "So you and Sam rubbing your feet together under the table is just a means to an end?"

"Hey…" She couldn't stop the heat rushing to her cheeks though she maintained a frown-riddled expression. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"Honey, we _all_ saw that," Jack grinned goofily. "Just admit it. You like them. And you like Sam more."

"Can we focus on the issue, please?" she cut him off. "Don't you see how important this is? Crowley's gearing up for war. The Hindus will probably declare against us soon and if they do that, the Greeks and the Persians may be next. I can't let that happen. If things get out of control… Crowley has the archangel blade and I'm sure he'll aim for the heart." Zara zoned out at the thought of things becoming so chaotic. "So are you gonna help me or not?"

"Help? I never said anything about help," he pointed out. But something she said rang in his head. _I'm sure he'll aim for the heart._ Lucifer being dead. His father, who he'd never even met before. The thought was like an itch in his brain he couldn't get rid of. "Fine," he relented. "I'll tell them that you were with me."

"Good," she smiled a rosy pink curve. "Thanks."

They turned the corner, which put them well out of sight of the motel. Zara broke away from him, ready to head off somewhere else. "Hey, don't do anything _suicidal_ ," he called out after her. "Without me."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

Lucifer sat opposite Zara across the round table in his room, observing her. Her back was up straight and she looked him in the eye when she talked. Her dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she wore a black tank top which showed off her toned arms and figure. Hell was in her eyes, in that confident glare, and a dark flame seemed to radiate from her. Lucifer was impressed with himself for having done a good job. But it wasn't time to celebrate yet, not till she'd shown him what she was truly capable of. The rebirth was just the beginning. The fun had yet to start.

"So… how was your first lesson with our resident witch?" he asked, simple smile on his lips and fingers clasped cordially on the table.

"It was alright," she said.

"Did you have any… insights?"

"I was under the impression that progress doesn't happen so fast," she answered, still emotionless. But upon seeing Lucifer's expectant gaze, she continued, "We're starting from the basics. But I'm sure we'll get there."

He nodded slowly. "Make sure she gets you where you need to be. Sometimes, people like to hold out on you because it keeps them useful for longer."

"You mean to stay alive?" she questioned.

"Exactly. That's the problem with _outsourcing_. People will say and do anything to hold onto life," he sighed. "You better squeeze out everything we need from her. You _do_ know what we need, right?"

"Those spells to help you with your… vessel situation," her eyes flickered for a moment but she recovered quickly, though the flash of emotion was not unnoticed by the archangel. He allowed a tense silence, driving Zara's self-doubt.

"If we don't get those spells, it's Nick who suffers, Zara. I can always get a new vessel. You understand me?" he posited coldly. She nodded stiffly. "Do it for him."

She gulped. "I'm doing it for you," she responded, returning to her expected blankness. "The past doesn't exist anymore."

A smile inched across his face. "Good," he said. She'd passed another test. "There's also something else. I remember you telling me that you had some issues with the hawk. Now that it's a part of you, I expect you to learn to master it. Maybe that way, you'll have better reception with Sophia. That's actually the main reason I healed Crowley's bitch. As long as she's breathing our air, she might as well be useful in that area."

"I'll try my best," she said, then immediately came face to face with another expectant head-tilt. "I mean- I'll wring the bitch like a wet cloth until I find Sophia."

"Attagirl," he praised. "Now that you're…" he tilted a palm, initially held parallel to the table, sideways. "…settled in, you're ready to get to the _real_ meat of our business. You _are_ ready, right?"

"I trust your judgment," she answered. "What do you want me to do?"

There was a glint in his eye as he beckoned her to follow him. Zara trailed behind the tall archangel as he led her down the stairs. Down and down they went, further down than Zara had ever been in all the time she'd been here. The air grew warmer as they finally reached the dungeons, a long maze of hallways that were kept dark and damp for as long as they'd existed. There were prison facilities all throughout Hell but these – right under the main palace – were reserved for the most wanted of enemies. Lucifer opened a large wooden door at the end of one hallway and inside was a long room, in which people tied to chairs with bags on their heads were arranged in a large circle.

Abaddon awaited them, eagerly standing by a table with metallic objects on them. Upon their arrival, the three moved to an observation room, which was separated from the cell by a wall with a large glass window. "What's this?" Zara asked, though she knew immediately the current context of what was going to happen.

"Welcome to Torture 101," Abaddon greeted, voice sailing like a smooth ship across the air. "Where you will learn the human anatomy in close detail and savour the aroma of fear. But remember, it's always important to have fun."

"Our kind volunteers here are from a Javelin hotspot in Russia. Let Abaddon demonstrate and then we'll see what you can do," Lucifer introduced.

As she watched, Abaddon re-entered the main interrogation room and unmasked one of the prisoners. Unkempt greyish-white hair reflected the dim ambient light as bloodshot eyes circled in on the demon. His pupils widened, petrified, at the sight of the demonic eyes but he could only make muffled panicked noises through the duct tape sealing his lips.

"Hello, lover," she gave him a dastardly smile, stroking his chin with a devilishly crimson manicure. The man trembled where he sat though his eyes were frozen still from terror. She ran her fingers tenderly through his hair, a sick prelude to what was to come.

"You… don't have to do that," Lucifer told Zara. "Anytime now, Abaddon…"

"You have some information that I need," Abaddon began. "You can give it to me nice and easy… or we can play around a little." She picked up a tiny knife – a narrow blade that matched the width of her finger – and in a swift motion, swept it across his cheek, coming only so close as to leave a small incision. Nothing was obvious at first. Until the man made more muffled noises and a small line of red gushed from the wound. "Just teasing you. I bet you want a little more, huh?"

He shook his head 'no' but it was more like a shudder. Her index finger traced the edge of the duct tape as she carefully peeled it off his lips. "Please, we don't know anything," the man's thick Russian accent filtered through his newly-liberated mouth.

The bone-chilling anticipation of what was to come blared like a siren in his eyes, only feeding into Abaddon's sadistic glee. "Oh, I'm sure. Your bosses sent all of you to meet up so that you can talk about things you don't know," she dryly rebutted. She sauntered over to one particular feminine-looking person and rested her elbows on the spine of the woman's chair. "Kira here was cooperative. That is, after I laid out the stakes for her. She's a hard chestnut to crack, this one."

Abaddon yanked off the bag covering her head. Underneath, empty eye sockets stared back at the chair-bound man, crying bloody tears. The woman was eerily limp and it was only after a moment of silent observation did he realise that she took no breaths. Her head simply hung to the side, a lifeless vessel. The man felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He made no sound.

"But you know what, I might let you off easy. All you have to do is tell me who you and your little friends here work for. How's that sound?" She barely gave him time to answer. "Let's start with you."

He gulped, his round eyeballs darting around the room among his masked colleagues. "I- I- I work fo-"

"No," Abaddon interrupted. "Name."

"Huh?"

"You start with your name, honey," she added. Though the surroundings were relatively dim, it was just bright enough that her glossy lipstick shone and her copper curls appeared like they were coated in blood.

"M-my name is S-sokolov," he stammered.

"Hi, Sokolov," Abaddon drawled like a member of an AA meeting, using Kira's hand to wave at him.

"I w-work for Chernobog," he finally said.

"Ol' Cherny's still kickin', huh?" Lucifer muttered from behind the glass pane, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Wonder if that little hag Baba-Yaga's still around too…"

"What's so special about them?" Zara asked.

"The thing about these 'evil' deities," he began with emphasised air quotes. "They're easier to sweet-talk. They'll do anything to get back at their enemies, not like the 'good' ones who want something stupid like world peace. But I do suppose…" he paused in thought. "…Kali was a little too eager to shoot fire at me that one time."

They both watched as Sokolov introduced the other prisoners, each getting unbagged as Abaddon got to them. They were a diverse bunch, coming from all sorts of places. And the names mentioned indicated that these were important people. Lucifer felt an excitement bubble within him, slowly at first but picking up a rapid pace, as the names of the gods echoed in the interrogation room. There was Horus, Egyptian god of death. Morrigan, Irish goddess of war. Ishtar, Mesopotamian goddess of fertility. Parvati, Hindu goddess of love. Khepri, Egyptian god of renewal. Rama, Hindu god of virtue. Ares, Greek war god.

"That is one line-up," Zara remarked. Lucifer turned his head to her, arms folded but smile wide with glee.

"Oh, you bet," he answered. "I'm getting all sorts of ideas now. Sleep well because you're about to get busy."

"Me?" she puzzled.

"Yeah, you," he reciprocated her knotted eyebrows. "Why do you think I'm putting you through all this? You work for me now."

"Right," she conceded. "But I've never done this sorta thing before. I don't know if I'm the right person to do… whatever."

"We were all new to this once," he shrugged, tone unusually calm. "You'll flap your metaphorical wings soon."

The warm look in his eyes seemed so unusual of him yet he wore it like an everyday outfit – casually and with ease. Zara found it less strange and more curious, like the miracle of stars in the night sky. The visage of an ancient past that no longer could be. Or could it? He placed a hand on her shoulder as a reassurance and she returned a curve of the lips. Back to the interrogation they turned.

"Very good, Sokolov. I like you," Abaddon said. "I take it this is the first time you've dealt with a demon? You're doing good so far. And here I thought I'd have to stick some knives in your sternum to get some answers. I'll let you take the backseat if you can pick who I should question next."

Hesitation gripped the prisoner, unsure of what was right and what was wrong. The pangs of hunger had been assaulting him for hours now and his head was light. He shouldn't have even said this much. And giving someone else up? His chest grew heavy at the thought. And seeing their expectant and terrified looks wasn't making this easier.

"Come on, Sokolov," Abaddon pressed with a sing-song voice. "Which one of these little worms do you hate the most?" Again, a pause passed between them. "There must be someone here… someone who did something to upset your boss. That's why they send people like you, isn't it?" She towered over him as she slowly approached the chair, knife ready in her palm. "Someone who said something about your mom. Someone who hates your god. I mean, it's not like the Slavs are raking in followers anymore, right? They've all turned to Jesus now. And some, to my boss. Someone must have said something about that."

Inevitably his eyes shifted to a familiar target. Without him even needing to say so, Abaddon got the cue.

"Ishtar's one, huh?" she figured. Immediately, the named lady perked up in her seat, fearing what was to come. Abaddon turned to her. A bronze-skinned woman with accusative brown eyes widened at the sudden attention she received before staring daggers at Sokolov.

"I- I didn't say anything," he defended weakly.

"You didn't have to, lover. We can talk with our eyes all night long," Abaddon flirted. "Nifrat, wasn't it?" She now turned to the woman, who shrunk visibly in her seat as Abaddon positioned herself so close that there was barely any breathing space. "You're one to talk, Nifrat. Ishtar and friends were forgotten long before Chernobog. It's not really nice to hate on poor Chernobog, is it?"

Abaddon peeled off the duct tape. "I don't know what you want," Nifrat said rather firmly for someone who'd been roughly handled and starved. "But we're only small fry. We don't know what goes on with the gods. They only send us to handle the small negotiations. Like money. We don't even get to meet them. So really, you're wasting your time on us."

"You see, I just don't buy that," the demon tilted her head up in confusion. "If you're really that… unimportant, why did Javelin send more people looking for you? You should see the little conference room we found all of you in. Red really does go well with gold. But if you must insist that this is a waste of time…"

Abaddon snapped her fingers. Nifrat's neck twisted instantaneously into an impossible position. The circle of onlookers merely flinched in unison.

"I guess her life wasn't that important after all," Abaddon concluded.

"Ouch," Zara remarked from behind the wall. "That looked painful."

"Snapping necks can be very satisfying. Do you wanna try it?" Lucifer proposed out of the blue.

"What- like now?"

"Yes, now."

"Don't we have to question all of them? Meaning they have to be alive and breathing," she reasoned.

Lucifer dismissed her concern with a wave of his palm. "We'll figure it out." He knocked on the glass pane twice. Abaddon paused abruptly in the midst of her maniacal performance. Once reconvened in the private room, Lucifer gave her an order.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Abaddon stuttered through an uneasy grin as she looked between Lucifer and Zara, clearly not expecting this interruption. "Does my strategy not please you, my lord?"

"Oh this isn't about strategy, Abaddon. Just do as I say," he commanded.

With the help of some more demons, they had a new set-up. Nifrat's limp body slumped against the chair, alone with dead Kira. The others had been transported to their separate cells. Having a group interrogation was Abaddon's idea of a party but now that there were only two dead prisoners in the room, Zara felt less of a performance anxiety.

"Okay, so I wouldn't normally do this," Lucifer prefaced as he stood behind Nifrat's chair. He held a palm behind her head. A glow emanated from it. Slowly, the shattered spinal cord rearranged itself, bringing the head up in jerking motions as it took more of its original form. And then a gasp. Nifrat awoke again. "Just FYI, resurrections are tricky. Sometimes you get what you got, sometimes you get something that's better dead. Not like it matters now though."

"What- what's happening?" Nifrat heaved. Blinking rapidly, her eyes settled on the figure of none other than Abaddon, staring with mildly crossed brows and folded arms.

"Watch carefully, Z," Lucifer said as he shrugged his shoulders to loosen them up a little. Putting one palm squarely on the back of the prisoner's head, he cupped her chin with the other. "This is the basic form. I think of it like a… little baby bird you'd bring in from the rain. Keep it warm, hold it gently in your arms, and then…" in one brisk motion, he twisted her head. "Snap. You toss it out the window. You get me?"

"Sorta?" Zara replied. Her eyes tracked the details of his movement, avidly studying the technique.

"I'll do it again," he did the glowy thing with his hand one more time and again, the prisoner awoke with a gasp.

"What-"

"Uh, shut up," Lucifer snapped his fingers and instantly, Nifrat's head bobbed forward as though she were choking. The words tried to push through her mouth but none came out. "That's better." Again, he assumed the same position. "So one hand on the chin, the other grabs the back of the skull. And we're having none of that sideways turning crap you see on TV," he demonstrated by passively craning the head in his hands to both sides. "We only aim for 100% lethality in Hell, so if you wanna break it, you twist backwards."

Again with the sharp twist. There was an audible 'crack', just like before, but louder. It almost sounded soothing to Zara's ears.

"Now you try," Lucifer stepped back after snapping up another resurrection.

This time Nifrat only heaved more and slouched forward, every time hurting and draining her more than the last. Zara came to her spot behind the chair, venom oozing from the cold stare she gave the prisoner. The first thing she did was grab a fistful of Nifrat's hair to pull her head back so that she could put her palms in the same position that Lucifer did. One palm at the chin and another at the back of the head. _Okay, you got this._ A deep breath in channelled some force into her hands as she exhaled. While she lifted the chin up and twisted the head backwards as Lucifer demonstrated, she inevitably met with the prisoner's resistance.

Zara's teeth ground against each other as she tugged and shoved in what she thought to be the right directions. But all she got in return were the struggling noises of the prisoner. Abaddon was tempted to sigh in boredom at her pathetic attempt at a kill. "Okay, try it in one straight motion," Lucifer guided. "Don't hesitate."

Abaddon's frown only deepened when Lucifer stepped in closer, placing his palms over Zara's to help her. He tried to use minimal effort, only urging her as much as needed. Together, they broke the spine successfully but the very sight was enough to send a cold spike through Abaddon's chest. How delicate he was with her, even going so far as to spend his own time teaching a rookie the basics of fighting and killing. Somewhere in her gut that felt _wrong._ And that was something coming from a creature of Hell.

Once more, Nifrat was resurrected if only for Zara to truly do this on her own. Steadily, her hands went back to their positions. Zara began with visibly more force than she'd used before. "Just throw that bird out," Lucifer encouraged, half-amused by his own metaphor. "Toss it like a confident Hail Mary."

This time Nifrat's discomfort was more evident with those gargled "ah"s and "ugh"s. But despite the resistance, Zara pushed as hard as she could. Slowly, soft cracking sounds could be heard. Nifrat's face was bloodless, eyes wide and a little damp. She whimpered softly at first but with every one of Zara's attempts at a swift twist, her raspy mewls only grew louder. And that's when Zara paused, inhaled and went in for the kill.

"Please…" Nifrat begged, the muscles of her face contorting as she fought to utter words. "Please stop…"

Zara remembered the combat training – how Lucifer told her to fight like a demon. Her fiery journey to rebirth flashed in her mind for a moment. Energy surged through her muscles like lightning and in an instant, she managed a 'crack' almost as loud as Lucifer's. To hear it was one thing. But to feel it right under your palms… it was intoxicating.

"She's got it," Lucifer announced merrily. "Do it again."

Zara obliged. He made her do it a few more times until she paused of her own accord. "You shouldn't be using your powers so much. It'll hurt you," she said. It was a curious thing, for Lucifer to see her display such concern yet have none of it show on her face like some kind of machine from a dystopian future. But he was one to talk, considering he merely stared back at her with an indifferent expression. It was so obvious to her then – like never before – that there truly was a formidable, powerful being possessing that human form.

"I believe you're a good investment. You'll fix me up in no time," he replied with a playful tinge in his otherwise neutral tone. They held an amicable eye contact as a brief moment passed. "You need more practice."

"Still. I don't think it's wise to do it this way. I'm sure we can find more cost-efficient ways for me to practise," she reasoned. "Ways that don't involve wasting the lives of people who could give us intel."

"We'll hit up the nearest church," Abaddon pointedly suggested before Lucifer could insist.

"Very well," he sighed, the weight of Zara's concern finally catching up to him in the form of burning sensations in his joints. "Abaddon, take her with you on your rounds."

* * *

 _ **The Music Festival, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 7.43pm**_

"Some tall freak is blocking my view," a woman's voice exclaimed, one of many in the large crowd. It was a cool, windy evening – the only solace in an otherwise sweaty and warm front row.

"How's a black eye for blocking the view?" Zara challenged, fists raised. She would have charged through the crowd if not for Sam holding her back with his giant leather-clad arms.

"Okay, calm down, Trooper," Sam hurriedly whispered. She relented and he let go, though her eyes still threatened to burn the woman where she stood. He flashed an apologetic smile at said woman and did a little hand wave to deflect attention from them. "Sorry."

"She was rude, Sam. You can't help that you're built like Mount K2," Zara remarked with her soft womanly eyes that warmed his heart.

"Don't you mean Everest?" Dean chimed in from beside them.

"No, K2. Because it's both tall _and_ the most dangerous mountain in the world," she grinned, swaying like a shy schoolgirl as she said her cheesy explanation. Sam couldn't help but chuckle at her silliness, revealing the dimples that Zara always liked to see.

Dean gagged and stuck a finger in his mouth. "Sorry, excuse me while I find a nice corner to go and shoot myself," he mocked.

"Well you can climb me anytime," Sam flirted back, evidently conscious of his brother's discomfort.

"You keep that up, mister, you're gonna get lucky tonight," Zara bit her lower lip.

"Oh come on," Dean grumbled. "Right here? There might be kids."

"The only kid I see here is you," Zara teased.

"Yeah, and it's not just because you're short," Sam added. He and Zara shared a giggle over that with Dean just wondering how any of this was funny. Some things just get amplified by the moment, he guessed.

"Oh great. Now they're ganging up on me," Dean narrated. "God, is this show ever gonna start?"

Just then, the audience roared and the trio turned to see the stage being occupied by people who knew what they were doing. "Let's get this show fucking started!" Jack announced on the mic as he arrived, guitar slung over his shoulder and leather jacket lined with spikes.

"Jack, you are a God-send," Dean mumbled as he wryly turned away from the sight of Sam putting his arm around Zara.

As they watched, _Black Eternity_ put up such an energetic performance that people were moshing and cheering in no time. And Jack certainly seemed to enjoy himself, whipping his long hair around in a windmill as he played the fastest and meanest guitar riffs known to humanity. His songs were one of hope and power, speaking of taking control and making a stand in a world that helped no one. His voice was slick like lightning and the music rough and rowdy like thunder. Not bad for a band that was playing in front of a large audience for the first time. Hell, it got Dean banging his head more than a few times. Zara also recognised some of the songs, having heard a softer, acoustic version when he used to play them for her years back. A warm feeling invaded her mind and soul, attacking a particular certainty she'd learnt to have in her time with Lucifer. It was unfamiliar but somehow, she couldn't help but welcome it this time.

Hours later, they reconvened in the Winchesters' motel room. When Jack finally appeared before them, they were all ready with pizza and beer. "It's about time, Mr Rockstar," Dean greeted enthusiastically. "Sorry to take you away from the paparazzi and groupies."

Jack let out a hearty chuckle as he took a seat at the table, now dressed in more casual leather. "Oh there'll be plenty more of that in the future, I'd expect," he replied. "So? What d'you think?"

"You were amazing," Zara beamed from next to him. "You killed it out there. Consider me a fan."

"Aww," Jack immediately pulled her into a bear hug, pressing the sides of their head together before giving her a quick kiss at the temple. "You really think so?"

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, smile ever-present on his lips as he regarded them. "Totally. You got Dean jammin'. That's an achievement."

"Is it Dean metal?" Zara asked playfully.

"Oh definitely," Dean replied.

"I don't know what that means but I love it," Jack was practically shaking in excitement. "But let me be real though. It really, really, really…" he repeated slowly for emphasis. "…really meant a lot to me that you would all show up for this. It's been my dream since forever."

"Man, you're doing God's work, saving heavy metal like that," Dean praised. "And the way you jumped while shredding that guitar at the same time… that's some Dave Mustaine-tier performance."

"Angel of music, baby. It's what I do," he replied with gusto.

"Really?" Zara tilted her head with a pleasant surprise. "Are you _really_ the angel of music?"

"That's the thing, Z. I am whatever I say I am. That's the great thing about being a deity," he explained as a matter-of-fact. "I mean, who's gonna question me? So long as you talk the talk and walk the walk, the haters can suck it."

"Yeah, they'll have to answer to you and your hair," Dean pointed out. "I swear your hair has a life of its own."

"It is a sacrament of my very being," Jack leaned back into his chair as he proudly stuck his nose up in the air.

"Yeah, Sam's the same. One of these days I'll find the Holy Scissors and give him a Sacred Haircut," Dean raised both his eyebrows at his brother, who only returned a bored expression.

"And you're not worried about people pulling it or anything?" Sam asked, more as a challenge to Dean.

"Oh they can try," Jack answered back. "It's never really worked out for people before."

Zara huffed. "You really haven't changed, you know that?"

Jack shrugged. "It's only been seven years and I'm… _forever_ years old or something, right?"

Their light-hearted conversation was only interrupted by the human need for sleep so Jack took his leave and returned the next morning. The sun was up and the hunters were fresh and ready for a new day. Bon Jovi wafted through the morning radio as Dean freshened himself up in front of the mirror. Zara enjoyed a warm cup of tea while browsing the local newspaper, sitting opposite Sam who was on his laptop as usual, looking for more clues on the Helmet of Hades. Jack was quietly scrolling through his phone when suddenly, a bunch of words on the screen made him frown.

"Sam," he muttered. When Sam looked up, the despondent look on the angel's face evoked question marks in his mind before actual questions could form. "I need to borrow your laptop."

"Sure," Sam obliged, shuffling the device to Jack's side of the table. The archangel went tapping away again as Sam watched. Meanwhile, Dean got settled in next to them while tying his shoestrings.

"I checked in with Vampire Boy again last night," Jack reported, eyes fixed on the screen. "I asked him to look into some other things for me."

"Who?" Zara asked.

"His sketchy Russian friend on the Deep Web," Dean answered. "Who may or may not be an actual vampire."

"Oh, I remember you and the Deep Web," she said with a sarcastic one-sided smirk. "I had nightmares for a month because little Me could have never guessed the kind of messed up shit people got up to on there."

"It definitely isn't for the faint of heart," Jack mumbled as he stared at the screen in concentration. "Anyway, Vampire Boy suspected that something was off about the maps we sent him. I asked him to do a little bit of digging and… let's see if he's found anything."

"You're really getting your money's worth from this guy, huh?" Dean remarked.

"Oh, don't get me started. It's a story worth telling, but a really long one," Jack winked.

Sam leaned over to share Jack's view of the screen. "It's just a wall of Russian text," he observed. "What's it say?"

"He says…" Jack's finger hovered over the lines that he translated. His dark shapely brows furrowed. "…the markings are a distraction. Every death corresponded with a cargo shipment from the same town to a mill not too far from here. What the cargo was… he's not sure. But as far as he can tell, there have been demonic omens in a town close to the mill though strangely, not a single demon-related death. Points to a shady operation that someone definitely doesn't want other people poking their nose in."

"He got all that from maps?" Zara was impressed. "Sitting in front of a computer across the world?"

"Yeah, he's pretty good at what he does. Good thing we're friends. I imagine it'd suck to make an enemy out of him," Jack huffed.

"What're we thinking? Crowley or Lucifer?" Sam wondered. _Not Lucifer's_ , Zara thought to herself.

"Guess we'll have to find out," Dean concluded, getting up.

"Uh," Jack ambivalently glanced at his phone.

"You have something on, don't you?" Zara guessed.

"Yeah. Interview," he grimaced. "But you know what, I can cancel it."

"No, don't," she said within a heartbeat. That was something Jack picked up on and when he looked at her – really looked – he saw it happen again. The distance in her eyes. "We can handle a little recon."

"I'm coming along. I just want to make sure you're okay," he held her gaze. His tone could be solemn when he wanted it to be, which might have been strange but gave his friends something to trust. It's how they knew he was sincere – something unquestionable.

"Jack," she sighed with a faint smile. "You're the only one of us with a shot at something normal, okay? This is just another day for us. Let us handle it. Guys?"

"Yeah, totally," Sam nodded, standing right beside her with his hand on her shoulder. They both regarded him with concern, a dual pillar of support. "We'll call if anything happens."

"You're sure?" he looked between them, uncertainty tugging at his heart.

"Got you on speed dial," Zara reassured him, tapping her phone against her forehead. Jack noticed the notification light go off but pretended not to. The way Zara looked at him, all smiles and comfort, was eerie but it was her choice. He could only wait to see it play out.

"Make us proud," Dean added.

Jack exhaled shortly in amusement. "You guys," he muttered under a bubble-gum smile. "Be careful out there."

 _ **Shady Mill, Missouri – 23 September 2012, 1.03pm**_

"It's most likely using a closed network CCTV system, which was why Jack's hacker friend couldn't get in," Sam speculated. The trio stood leaning against the Impala as they surveyed the location from atop a hill not far from the mill. "If we can get into the security room, we might get a clue of what's going on in there."

"So… no crashing through the gates with guns blazing?" Dean pondered. Zara, holding her phone at her side obscured from the brothers, quickly tapped something and hit 'send'.

"Of course not. There are too many people in there. All of them probably demons. What if they're Lucifer's? Remember what happened the last time we went in guns blazing into a town full of demons following Lucifer's orders?" Sam argued.

"I remember," Zara chimed in.

"Relax, I'm joking. Jeez," Dean defended. "Tough crowd."

Armed and ready, the three crept towards the back end of the building, away from the main cargo arrival area. The back was less guarded and gave them an opening to pick a lock and enter. Zara felt naked armed with a mere angel blade – a massive step down from the archangel blade, which she normally felt with her whole soul when she had it. It was a part of her and not having it in such a heavily demon-infested place was nagging at her. But still, she'd been trained to live without it. This would have to do.

Dean took the lead. He surveyed the hallways as they tried to figure out a path, with Zara serving as backup when the short scuffles threatened to be louder than they would have wanted. Sam kept a lookout at their 6 o' clock, making sure no one stumbled across any stray bodies and called for backup. The walls were a dim greyish blue, the colour of forgotten memories. All Zara saw was a fresh canvas that needed to be painted. Having only blades that worked on demons, this was easy enough to accomplish. Red sprayed on the walls and the floors effortlessly. But minimalism was still the objective. On her own, the finished result may have been richer but hunting with the boys meant toning it down a little.

When it came to finding the right door, Zara signalled to the brothers to keep watch while she listened carefully with her keen archangel-assisted senses. Dean was sceptical but didn't question it in the moment. She seemed confident enough. Her eyes, being the only visible part of her face through the mask and hood, frowned deeply in concentration. She'd insisted it was important not to rush into rooms which could have dozens of demons waiting for them.

"This is so weird," Sam remarked. Dean followed his brother's gaze to find a camera on the ceiling, staring straight at them. "Why haven't they ambushed us yet?"

"Hopefully because they're asleep at the wheel," Dean speculated. Just then, a loud noise sounded. And then a bunch of distant yelling. Zara's eyes widened as she stared at the door and slowly backed away. Dean got the cue. "Hide!"

He took a chance with a random door and jerked it open, ushering Zara and his brother inside before going in and shutting it himself. A broom closet. _Good._ The proximal sound of a door being slammed open rang in their ears. Then a bunch of footsteps, thudding at the pace of a stampede. Zara's eyes, darting from one side to another through the closed door, told them everything they needed to know about the movement of the demons outside. More loud yelling. Their hearts raced. But soon, the noises outside the door ceased.

"It's clear," Zara confirmed with a pale, unblinking expression. They ventured outside, dazed for a moment. But as they walked freely, the air seemed clearer than before. "They've all gone to the front."

"What just happened?" Sam asked, exasperated. His chest was heaving and so was Dean's. Everything had happened so suddenly and quickly that it was a little disorienting.

"This place is something bad but I think it just got worse," Dean guessed as he looked around them.

"Let's not wait for it to get worserer," Zara tried to snap them out of it. It worked and they quickly got to finding the security room. It was easier now that their path was unhindered. Still, the sudden emptiness blanketed the air with an eerie chill. Once in the room, Sam promptly inserted a flash drive to copy the security footage. Meanwhile, Zara and Dean watched one of the monitors that showed the wide opening of the arrival area.

"The hell?" Dean puzzled at the sight of the demons being stabbed to death and engaging in what looked like a full-on battle. "Either we're extremely lucky… or we're not."

Without him needing to say so, Sam zoomed in on a particular pair engaged in a fight. Their unmistakably black eyes were a clear indication of what was going on. "It's demon-on-demon. What's going on?"

"They're Lucifer's," Zara identified. "Look at how they're fighting. The attackers are quicker and more organised. Lucifer clearly has been training them more." When she was met by intrigued gazes, she added, "I've noticed."

"He's also upgraded their fashion," Dean observed. Indeed, the demons that Zara pointed out were more sharply dressed in suits while the ones being killed wore more rugged, casual clothing.

"So… what? This is Lucifer _ambushing_ Crowley?" Sam spoke the dreaded conclusion. "This is dangerous. We should leave."

"Leave? We haven't gotten what we came here for," Dean rebutted. "We need to know what Crowley's been up to."

"We have the footage. We can regroup at the motel with Jack and figure out what to do next," Sam reasoned. "He's our best shot at dealing with a large horde of demons. Maybe we should call Cas too."

Just as Dean was about to deliberate on what to do next, Zara suddenly perked up at the sight of something on one of the monitors. "Guys, it's Crowley," her eyes widened. "He has the blade."

Sure enough, one screen showed him cautiously holding the archangel blade as he stepped through a door. Zara was quick to refer to a floor plan to figure out which part of the building he was on.

"Zara, hold up," Sam called out.

"We have to go and get it," she stated, still focused on the floor plan.

"He's nearer to the front. Meaning demons in the way," Sam firmly said. Her back was towards him but it was entirely possible for him to envision the look of concentration on her face. It was a scary vision. "The longer we spend here the lower our chances of leaving alive."

"Yeah? And how's the progress on the footage?" she nonchalantly challenged.

Sam glanced back at the screen. It was still copying – about halfway through. "It's almost over. Just wait for a second. Please," Sam pleaded.

"I need to get the blade, Sam," she turned around abruptly and met his eyes with a sharp resolve. Her arms were practically shaking at the thought of getting to the blade. "If we let him go now, we might never get another chance." Sam seemed unconvinced. "Dean? A little help?"

"Huh? Oh, uh." He looked between his brother and Zara, unsure of whose side to take. "I mean, having that blade would help me sleep better at night."

"Dude," Sam shot his brother a disappointed glare.

"But on the other hand, getting out of here while we can would be nice too," he shrugged.

"Whatever happened to getting what we came here for?" Zara criticised. "You know what, arguing about this is wasting precious time."

She began briskly towards the door. "Zara, don't!" Sam hoped his sharp voice would be enough to stop her. She halted in her step, two feet from the door, and turned to him. "Jack would tell you to stop too."

His heart wondered if it could rest. "And I'd also tell him to wait 20 minutes before starting to worry."

Guess not. And then she was gone. Just like that. Sam simply gaped at the doorway, unable to believe that she'd just completely ignored him.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Sammy," Dean broke the silence. He chuckled a bit but realised it was in poor taste when Sam refused to meet his gaze. "She's a tough girl."

"They all were," he simply said, before returning his attention to the screen. He pulled a hand down his stubbled jaw. "Since we're already waiting, let's see if we can find something."

He opened a file at random. This one showed a view of the cargo storage area from a different angle. As the boys watched, one large container was being opened by two demons. They seemed to be observing something off-scene. Soon enough, more demons appeared and with them were two unconscious people. The victims were tied up and blindfolded – the only indication that they were probably still alive. The demons hung them up on meat hooks by the wrist-ties inside the container and then shut the doors.

"That's it. That's the cargo. They're transporting people," Sam realised, horrified. He quickly switched back to the live feed. This time, the scene was wrecked by the scuffle. Only this time, the battle seemed to be contained on one side of the container. The other side was practically barren, save for a single truck whose open back faced the camera. And inside, the same two people, hung on meat hooks. "They were gonna take them away. But where?"

The sound of Dean grabbing his demon-killing knife snapped Sam's attention to his brother. "We can't let that happen," he declared. His intentions were obvious to Sam.

"No, not you too," Sam lamented. "We can't go there now. It's too risky."

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Leave 'em there? We do that and they go to Crowley-knows-where, or Lucifer-knows-where. That ain't happening," Dean retorted. "You stay here and make sure we get the footage. It's our best chance."

"But-"

"20 minutes. We meet at the back entrance where we came in, or you leave and get help. Comprende?" Dean didn't wait for a response. He marched out the door, just like Zara did. Sam's instinctive sense of doom only heightened.

Zara moved silently, cutting through the air with a practised ease. She felt half-free, now that she didn't have to pretend not to know how to move as stealthily as she did. Still, she had to keep in mind that Sam could watch her through the CCTV cameras. All she could think of was how funny it was that these upper floors, where she'd spotted Crowley, were clear of demons to protect him. _This should be easy._ Just the thought of severing his head clean from his body sent spikes of ecstasy through her veins. She could just imagine the glee on Lucifer's face. She couldn't wait.

"Hello, Crowley," she greeted with a serpentine sharpness to her voice. The former King of Hell found her in his line of vision with vitriol burning in his eyes. As she'd expected, the demon held the blade in his hands. _Her_ blade. A cool wave swept over her just to see it again.

"Hello, darling. So sorry our last meeting had to be cut short," he said, confidence oozing from his smartly-attired form. "Haven't heard from that little weasel Martin in a while, so I take it you showed him where to shove the mullet?"

"He's the least of your problems right now," she eyed him with a hunger for his blood. Her short, wavy locks framed her face so squarely, like a painting of absolute ferocity waiting to unleash. Crowley's eyes deflected for a moment. "What's the matter? Seen a ghost?"

"Are you done teasing me, love?" he said, but from his averted pupils, it was clear that he wasn't talking to her. Zara spun around, only to find herself coming face to face with a blast of energy hurling her backwards. She landed messily on the floor. Her breath was knocked out of her in such a gust that she had to cough to recover. Frantically, she pulled her mask down to feel the fresh cold air against her face.

Still on the ground, she looked up to see who her attacker was. The icy green eyes seemed to pierce her where she lay. "You?" she muttered, just as she began to taste blood.

"Yes, me," the distinctly female voice said. Her dark, shapely eyebrows creased crisply to regard Zara with the same annoyance one would have towards a housefly.

"You don't have to do this," Zara said, weakly attempting to get up. "Esther."

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"And then Crowley was all like, _'Darlin', can't wait to see yer tits again'_ ," the demon imitated in a poorly-attempted British accent that sounded more Scottish. The other demon listened in open-mouthed amusement to his friend's story. "And all I had to do was reply with a dozen kissy-face and water-droplet emojis. The stupid fucker bought it!"

The other demon doubled over in laughter. "So you were sexting him the whole time?"

"Oh me and the boys took turns. It was between that and cutting the bitch a new one," he boisterously exclaimed. The demons exploded in laughter. "Best part? We never typed a single word. It was all emojis all the time. And Crowley never suspected a thing!"

"And before you know it, all the pieces fall into place and we're back in business with a _real_ king," the other demon concluded their exciting recount of the events that had happened two months prior.

"I swear, we could _not_ have done it if Crowley had thought to send a search party for the bitch. I mean, witch," Demon One said.

"You know, Mo, you should write a book about it. Call it 'The Chronicles of Hell: The Idiot, The Witch and The Sext'," Demon Two suggested. The two broke out into laughter again.

"Hey! Could ya keep it down out there? We're tryna learn," Zara yelled, causing the two demons to snap back into their positions in the hallway on either side of the door. Esther's eyes twitched as she blinked to hide the tears. Though this was their tenth or twelfth lesson, the witch remained a shrivelled mess, shrunken in her chair and shaken by every sudden noise, no matter how soft. It was a miracle that she could even speak, though she was getting better with every lesson.

"Read it slowly, one more time," the witch instructed, gingerly holding Zara's palms in her own. "Focus on every word and the power within you."

Zara took a deep breath, concentrating on her inner state of mind. Eyes closed and body relaxed, she did as she was told. " _Sequoro ipse, vici Perdita, fio."_

A sudden bolt of energy surged through her, jerking her head to face the ceiling as her eyes rolled back in their emerald state. The flames of the candles became like long columns as they shot up, arranged around the white chalk circle on which they'd prepared the spell. The two demons, standing guard outside Zara's door, occasionally peeked in though they mostly made sure no one got in or out. This was how it was for a while now, and a while in Hell was certainly a long time.

Zara's consciousness shot through space faster than any rocket ever designed. It all happened so quickly that the feeling of sudden detachment from her body didn't quite register. Before she knew it, she found herself surrounded by complete and utter darkness. It wasn't like a black room – though it could have been. Thoughts of movement seemed to meet wisps of dark smoke in the space around her. Not that this could have been a 'space' in the proper sense of the term – she was but a floating orb of consciousness. But what was this place? Its aura was familiar, like she'd been here before. She soon found out why.

A flash of images attacked her at once. A soft but persistent droning noise. A voice – low, raspy and echo-y all at once. It repeated a line she'd heard before. "You're a long way from home, Zara."

She gasped. Her hands pulled away immediately, staring mortified at the witch. Zara panted heavily. All she heard was the sound of the demons rushing in and roughly grabbing Esther, who screamed in protest. Something about that felt unnecessary and wrong but the words just didn't make it out of Zara's mouth. Try as she might, she couldn't resist gravity and the magnetic pull of unconsciousness. Everything faded to black.


	75. Tit-For-Tat

Sophia's Chronicles

 **Recap:** Sam, Dean and Zara investigate a mill known to involve high demon activity and discover that Crowley is using it for some unknown reason. Sam is extracting all the CCTV footage while Zara goes after Crowley to get her blade and Dean tries to rescue some possible hostages. In the flashback, Esther is forced to teach Zara magic so that she can contact Sophia and work out a way to help Lucifer be free of the traps in his vessel. They try to establish a 'connection' which causes Zara to black out.

 **Chapter 75: Tit-For-Tat**

 _ **The Void**_

" _The Sun rises but it's dark. Water flows but the mountains are still_ ," I recited from one of the big screens in the Omniverse. "Wait, this doesn't make any sense. Are we sure we've got it right?"

"We're in the freakin' Void," Sixty-Six chimed in from next to me. The alternate-Me, a version made completely of Darkness yet having lead a life that closely resembled mine, preferred to stay by my side. "Nothing makes sense here."

"Yeah. Remember the time Fifty-Five walked through a door and came back in literal pieces?" Eighty said. We all cringed a little. "We're all in one giant Saw trap. You've all seen Saw, right?"

A collective sigh fell over them. It was less of a response to the human culture reference and more towards the general hopelessness we had. It was true. The Void was as unpredictable as Lucifer's moral compass. I huffed. The thought made me chuckle. One moment you think you have an idea of the floorplan, the next, it all shifts and someone dies. How did I ever manage to get around this place before? Was it under one of the Khaos' control? As it turned out, the more pressing question was to figure out how it all worked (and how to prevent losing our numbers).

What we'd figured out so far was measly but fundamental. Firstly, the Omniverse was the most important place in the Void. Khaos' office, the one with the many screens. It's what all the Defenders were trying to keep us from so it had to be crucial somehow. One time, two of my doppelgangers were fighting over something menial – it so happened that this sort of petty argument was the only entertainment around here – and one of them struck a button on the interface that controlled the monitors. We had all been wary of the buttons, afraid that a wrong push could cause absolute devastation. It might have felt just like that at the time, because we were all subject to an intense amount of high-pitched ringing in our ears. Immediately, we'd fallen to our knees, struggling to keep the noise out. Hell, I could barely open my eyes. Until Sixty-Six slammed the button again and the noise stopped.

She was standing among a sea of fallen Us-es, the only one seemingly unaffected. "Y'all alright?" she casually asked.

"What the hell was that?!" someone exclaimed.

"It felt like…" Thirty-Seven took a gander, only after a drained, weary gulp. "It felt like people calling to me."

"Yeah, like prayers," another said. Now that we were all calm, I could replay the noise in my head again. I found it to be true. Over and over again, I heard the voices of people calling out my name. Some, I recognised. _Oh God._ Zara, Lucifer, Raziel, all of them. Had they been trying all this time?

"I didn't know that I could be ambushed by prayers," Fifty-Five had said. I'd only been gone from my universe for a short while – in Earth time, that is. I could only imagine what the others had felt, those who had been gone for millions of years.

"Khaos must have put up some kind of barrier," I guessed. "Something that would prevent external contact. To make us feel… truly alone. The button must have deactivated it."

A solemn silence fell among us. "It's nice… to finally hear the voices of my children again," Eighty said. "But for the love of sanity, let's never do that again."

"Hey, how come nothing happened to her?" Thirty-Seven looked suspiciously at Sixty-Six, who only huffed and cynically grinned.

"I'm Satan, remember? Everyone hates me," she shrugged. _That's settled, then._

This had only been the first of many revelations of the many functions that the interface in the Omniverse served. Forty-Two, the hybrid of Light and Darkness just like me (the first doppelganger I'd met), tried her hand at using the interface. She was the only one who actually had some experience with the thing, having worked closely with Khaos before. Her experience suggested that knowing how to operate the interface in the Omniverse was the key to knowing what the hell went on in the Void.

The second thing we'd found out was that we weren't alone. There were far more entities in the Void than we'd realised. Two of us who'd been patrolling some new corner of the place ran into some less-than-friendly Timekeeper deities, who'd threatened to "kick the living time out of them" if we didn't leave them alone. I didn't completely understand the threat, but the tone and ferocity described by my doppelgangers was enough for me to decide that we should heed the warning. Luckily, the unpredictability of the floorplan might ensure that we never run into those Timekeepers again. Just 36 earth hours and the corners all would get switched around randomly.

And lastly, we figured out a plan to unlock Omega's cage. The last time I'd seen Him was in a 'projection' room, which only gave me the illusion that I'd found the cage when in fact, Omega had found a way to reach through the holes in the Void long enough to contact me without being spotted by Alpha. So finding the actual cage had to be part of the plan. On top of that, He'd said that I'd have to find something called the Keys of Conflict. There were six of them in total. Where they were, even He didn't know. So that was the second part of the plan. Easier said than done.

So this is where we were now. The whole army of us had split up, some searching for the cage and some searching for the keys. I felt nothing but relief for the fact that thousands of me were sharing the responsibility. I could only imagine how exhausting it would have been for me to work on this alone, searching for a tiny needle in the giant haystack that was the Void. Despite the unpredictability of the place, regular patrols were necessary, if only to make sure we wouldn't get attacked again. Unfortunately, this also meant that some of us disappeared or were lost to the intrinsic traps that had been set up, as one of my sisters mentioned. Yet, it also helped us get familiar with the place. Some landmarks were a regularity, like the windows to the universes. At some point or another, we'd all been tempted to jump into one to taste something other than blandness and emptiness. If anything, we were all bonded by a sense of duty to keep the events of the Void from spilling out.

The screen before me was displaying a translation of some kind of code one of us had run into while patrolling. Like a true me, she'd disregarded our warnings to come back within the 36-hour period to pursue a hunch about the floorplan. Having noted down a few of the previous combinations, she'd figured out another static point which seemed to be hidden among the shifting hallways and doors. We almost thought we'd lost her when she finally returned, burnt and battered by a scuffle with more Defenders. In her hand, she'd held a chip that fit into the interface and gave us a string of symbols. Luckily, there was a deciphering system built within the interface that Forty-Two brought up.

" _The Sun rises but it's dark. Water flows but the mountains are still_ ," it read.

"What kind of a place could that be?" Forty-Two pondered.

"It sounds kind of impossible, doesn't it?" Sixty-Six leaned on a palm planted on the large obsidian table containing the buttons. "Maybe this is just a distraction. Something to throw us off."

"Hidden deep within the fusiform matrix? Under level 3 encryption?" Eighty said in her typically snappy tone. She had a constant mild frown, like she always had a migraine.

"Khaos does like to screw with our minds, if you haven't noticed," Forty-Two replied, stepping between Sixty-Six and Eighty before their annoyed glares escalated to something more. "It is entirely possible. But I'd like to hold onto the hope that this clue could be of some use to us. Otherwise, Fifteen's sacrifices would have been for nothing."

"If that's the case, I don't wanna be the one to give her the news. Mercy be on those who find themselves at the business end of _her_ blade," Sixty-Six huffed. She, of course, was referring to the one who'd found the clue – a version of us who'd known nothing but war. Fifteen was easily among the most skilled of us in combat and strategy. She also had a little bit of an anger problem, as we'd found. Currently, she was having her wounds tended to by others but even then, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Considering that there are infinite universes, couldn't it be entirely possible that there is a place where it's still dark when the sun rises?" I ventured. "Creation could take a number of paths, as we've seen with our own selves."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that creation takes on any and every plausible form," Forty-Two countered. "There are limits. There are laws that creation conforms to. Either way, I don't think the statement even makes any sense. ' _Water flows but the mountains are still_ '? Are the mountains supposed to move?"

"The keys are as good as lost if we have to search every universe for mountains that move with water," Eighty sighed.

 _Hm._ "Wait. What if the clue doesn't actually refer to a place?" I speculated. "I mean, why did we all assume we were looking for a place? What exactly is this code and why did Fifteen find it where she did?"

Sixty-Six perked up at the questions. It had occurred to us then that we didn't actually know. A lot of what we did were stabs in the dark, considering we also didn't get anything to work with most of the time. That was how hope-draining this whole situation was. But now we had something. Just as Forty-Two was about to say something, someone interrupted us. "Commander," Twenty Two appeared behind us, eyes wide and breath abated. "We found something. There's a strange… signal coming from the East wing. We think it's some kind of malfunction."

"A malfunction?" I looked past her to the door. "How's that possible? We haven't done anything."

"Yeah, sure. We only blinded Alpha and proved to be a general infection in the Void. Yeah, we haven't done anything," Sixty-Six snarkily interjected.

"I get it," I told her.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," the informant voiced. She nervously put a hand to her neck. "The way it sounded… it was harrowing. Whatever it is, prepare yourselves."

"Has anyone checked it out yet?" I asked.

"Yes, we've sent two of us there but…" she rubbed the back of her elbow this time.

"You don't have a good feeling," I realised. She nodded. "Okay, I'll go after them."

"Sophia," Forty-Two had a concerned expression. "We need you here."

"No, we need _you_ here. You know how to work this stuff. Keep an eye on the interface," I ordered.

"What about the clue?" she pressed.

"You and Eighty can pay Fifteen a visit and try to work it out with her. I'll be back before the next shift," I promised.

"Then I'm coming with," Sixty-Six added, folding her arms resolutely. When I gave her a questioning look, she replied, "You're the Commander. We need you back. Meaning you need an armed escort."

"You sound like Lucifer," I sighed. I was going to discourage her but my own words made me rethink it. I accepted her company.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"Stop hurting her! She didn't do anything," Zara yelled frantically, eyes wide as she trembled. She was sat on the floor with her hands positioned flat against the ground near her back, still as a statue where she'd fallen from her chair. To see so much happening at once was startling, especially when it involved a number of people just storming her room. Right now, her eyes were fixed on Esther, who was also on the ground but cowering before a demon who'd backhanded her.

"Zara, calm down. You're not thinking straight," Lucifer himself said, crouching and holding her cheek gently in his palm to direct her attention to him. Soon after he did that, her pulse slowed down to a more comfortable pace and she felt herself getting more grounded. "What did you see?"

"I- I…" her eyebrows crinkled in concentration. Trying to put it all together in one coherent sentence was a struggle. "I'm not sure."

Just as Zara was about to try to find the words, Lucifer tilted her head to look her in the eyes for a brief inspection. "She'd better not have Kentucky-fried your brain or something," he hoped, with a tone that was more of a threat. The encirclement of demons seemed to shift closer to Esther as their boss said that. They seemed to await the very words that would allow them to move in the drop of a hat. "I guess that's enough magic lessons for you today."

"B-but we're _just_ getting started," Zara protested. It didn't seem to alter the general mood of the room – Lucifer's no-nonsense presence and the demons' hunger for Esther's fear. "We still have time left."

"Look at what she's done to you," Lucifer's cold blue eyes softened like she was some injured puppy. "You're all shaken." His head sharply turned to face the witch, causing the demons to perk up. "She could've hurt you."

"No… no-" Zara began, slowly shaking her head.

"Just say the word, boss," Dan's facial muscles clenched, anger burning in his eyes. It wasn't any ordinary anger – Zara could see the passion burning in him. It was present in him and all the demons. "No one messes with one of ours and gets away with it."

Zara could only see the blond peaks of the back of Lucifer's head as he slowly nodded in consideration of what the demon said. " _No_ ," she said, louder and more firmly this time. That certainly caught Lucifer's attention. "This is ridiculous. It's not her fault."

He observed her with the slightest narrowing of the eyes, the kind so subtle that one would be tempted to call it condescension but would also have to contend with the possibility of concern. Though the demons couldn't see his expression when he looked at her, they all seemed to have the same look themselves. "Maybe that's what she wants you to think," he simply said.

"Witches are known for their deception, m'lady," another British-sounding demon spoke up. "A little swim in the Lake of Fire could do her some good."

"And what do they say about demons, James?" Zara shot back. Some of the demons appeared to take offence at that, huffing audibly. Among the legs of the demons, Esther's almond eyes fell on her, their green as light as dry grass before a deserved rain and their shape round in nothing short of fear.

"Okay, cut it out, all of you," Lucifer chimed in, looking between his soldiers and Zara. "We're all just concerned about you. Can't you see that?" He paused briefly, only to sigh in rumination. "I took too much of a risk with this. You're not gonna do this anymore."

"Lucifer, please," she begged. "Give it another chance. We still have so much ground to cover."

"Take a nap, Zara. You're tired," he stated, getting up.

"No, no, wait, please," she stood up with him. "This is me. Like, purely me. I need to give this another shot."

He was so close to rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. "It's too risky. She could have you under some kind of spell and I can't have that," he reasoned sternly. "Look at how you're defending her right now. Maybe you don't see it. And hey, that's totally understandable," he shrugged, softening his voice to something more paternal. "But I know better so… listen to me, kay?"

Confusion would be an understatement to what Zara was feeling. She could feel her veins wanting to explode from the way he was talking to her. But instead, she kept calm and simply tilted her head slightly as far as it was polite to do so. "What do you mean… 'that's understandable'?" she asked.

Lucifer grimaced a little as he shrugged again. "You know… because she has this whole stray animal vibe and you…"

"Let me guess… I'm just human, is that it?" she completed his sentence with a bored expression.

"Look, no offence, but even I can't completely take away some parts of you without actually corrupting your soul," he explained. "And some of that might include… some empathy? Not saying that you're weak or anything, but it might blind you to some things."

She was dumbfounded, stunned to speechlessness, which Lucifer could easily assume to be agreement. "But what about trust?" she boldly asserted, looking him straight in the eyes. "I've trusted you. It's your turn." The demons seemed to shift uncomfortably at that as they ultimately awaited their boss' verdict. Years of not having to speak more than a few sentences to get what he wanted chipped away at Lucifer's patience. That much was obvious to Zara in how his eyebrow twitched. Her time was short and she knew it. "I'm not asking for much. Just… give it another shot." His eyes rolled to the side. _Switch strategy._ "I'm doing this for _us._ I'm doing this for you. I really think we're onto something here, Lucifer. And I want to give it the best I got-"

"Okay," he finally relented. "Dear Dad, you never stop, do you? Fine! Do what you want." He threw up a hand dismissively while his other hand rested on his hip. "But you're still taking a break. Take 'er away, boys."

Esther was roughly hauled to her feet and dragged away as Zara watched, half-afraid to heave a sigh of relief. She thought it would be over then – that they'd all move on with their lives. But Lucifer was still standing before her. She thought he might say something but he just stayed there, wordlessly, pupils boring into her like sharp teeth into flesh. Her heart trembled.

"Next time you wanna pull something like that, you do it in private," he uttered coldly.

"You and I both know she would've been dead by then," Zara rebutted as sincerely as she could.

There was that narrowing of eyes again. "So?" he asked. "There are plenty of witches in the sea."

"And how many of them designed a cage that could hold an archangel?" she challenged in turn. As soon as she spoke that sentence, she gulped despite herself. Speaking to Lucifer could be tricky business sometimes.

Zara heard a soft exhale from him as his shoulders eased and he stepped back a little. "You're being such a Sophia right now," he grumbled. Admittedly, that made Zara's lips curve ever so slightly. He didn't concede the emotion for too long, though. "You can have your way this time. But you better not be getting soft," he advised with a firm finger pointed at her. "Or I'll make you bury the past again."

* * *

 _ **Shady Mill, Missouri – 23 September 2012, 2.12pm**_

The icy green eyes seemed to pierce her where she lay. "You?" Zara muttered, just as she began to taste blood.

"Yes, me," the distinctly female voice said. Her dark, shapely eyebrows creased crisply to regard Zara with the same annoyance one would have towards a housefly.

"You don't have to do this," Zara said, weakly attempting to get up. "Esther."

"Oh, but I do," Esther hissed. She sauntered towards Zara. Her hands lit up with a purple glow about them with an intensity matching the visible anger on her face. "It's only right."

"I told you you'd pay," Crowley snidely chimed in from her peripheral.

"You've a lot to answer for yourself," Zara spat out through heavy breaths. She'd finally hauled herself to her feet when suddenly, a gust of wind pinned her flat against the wall. When her vision came to adjust to her new position, she'd found Esther's hands with the appropriate gestures that had essentially made her as vulnerable as a human dartboard. Now Esther and Crowley had found themselves at each other's sides as they shared a look that meant that they had some colourful ideas about what should happen next.

"What shall we do with her, darling?" Crowley suavely dug his hands into his pockets, creatively eyeing his prey. "Get her a tank of sharks? Some scorpions maybe? Oh, I know, we'll nail her to an inverted cross and play Pin The Tail."

"Get her ready for the delivery," Esther monotonously suggested. She had the fierce eyes of a dragon, ready to shoot flames with every strong breath from her rage-fuelled lungs. The way she stood – with her back straight like a porcelain hourglass doll wrapped in a glittery purple dress that reached her ankles – there was no doubt about her self-assurance.

Crowley, however, was caught off-guard by her response. He looked between her and Zara for a moment before stuttering, "W-we can still have a little fun, love. Nothing to spice up the sex life like a little bit of torture."

"No," Esther was quick to deny.

"A-are you sure?" he pressed.

"We need to focus on the deal," she firmly said. "Need I remind you that our _friends_ are only getting more impatient?"

"No, but I just thought… I thought you might want this," he shrugged.

"What I _want_ is for us to win this war, not some petty revenge. I'm not some high school cheerleader," she spat out bitterly. "Our efforts could be spent better than that. Get the truck ready."

Crowley's lips pursed. "If you say so, darling. Don't be too long," he conceded before vanishing. As much as Zara tried to pull her limbs away from the wall, the magical barrier was too strong. Her chest sunk again to lose sight of the archangel blade. Now it was just her and the witch.

Meanwhile, Dean found himself nearing a railing on a floor that overlooked the large delivery area, which was currently a battlefield. He rushed to identify the area from the security camera, locating it near a smaller entrance further away from the main one. Lucky for him, there was a stairwell that led him discreetly to the back of a container, next to which the truck stood. Grunts and screams peppered the air as he crept up to the back. The two blindfolded people who were hung by their bound wrists inside were unconscious. At least, that's what Dean assumed, seeing as they were unperturbed by the cacophony of noises around them.

 _Boom._ A large explosion sounded in the distance. Dean jerked to see the source. Some demons had blown something up somewhere to get at the opposite side. So long as it was far away from him, he didn't really care.

"Hey, wake up," Dean lightly tapped the man's cheek. No response. He pulled the blindfold off. The man's eyes were closed. He checked under the eyelids. The man seemed sound asleep. Perhaps he was sedated, he thought. He did the same investigation for the woman. The conclusion was the same for her. He pulled her off the meat hook and laid her gently on the floor of the truck. "Shit."

Looking at the both of them, he wasn't sure what to do. They couldn't walk and he certainly couldn't carry the two of them. Carrying them one at a time was an option, but getting them to the back of the building? That was too much of a risk. Struck by a dilemma, he exited the back of the truck and went to the front. That's when it hit him. The exit was wide open. The demons were all busy. No one was manning the wheel. Standing with a foot poised to haul himself into the driver's seat, Dean couldn't help but chance a look back at the battle scene. Somehow, it had all gotten messier than before. _Reinforcements? When did that happen?_ he thought.

Among the chaos, a single pair of black eyes met his. Dean's heart skipped a beat. His muscles froze, unable to contemplate a reality where his chances of saving the two hostages and surviving were sufficient. Yet it happened to be so. The smartly-attired demon put a hand to a Bluetooth earpiece and spoke into it. Seconds later he was back to finding a target and duelling him to death. Dean couldn't believe it. As if that wasn't enough, a particularly vibrant flash of red caught his eye in the distance. His breath was caught in his throat. "Abaddon?" he recognised with bated breath. _How is that possible?_

Before he could fully process what he'd just seen, she too put her fingers to what could only be assumed to be another Bluetooth earpiece and talked into it. The brief conversation ended and she marched up a staircase with relative ease and disappeared into a hallway that led further into the building. _Need to tell the others._ But first things first – there were two people who needed to be brought to safety. Dean rushed to the back to close the backdoor of the truck. His hand had barely touched the still-open door when he suddenly felt himself being flung backwards.

 _Thud._ He landed a few feet from the back of the truck with the breath knocked out of him. "Trying to steal my bounty again, Dean? I must say, that's just rude," Crowley sauntered into view, standing between Dean and the truck. And in his hand, he held the archangel blade, tapping the grind against his other palm. Thoughts of Zara raced through Dean's mind. If she hadn't attained the blade from him…

"Get… get away from them," Dean panted as he got up.

"Or…? Or what? You'll kill me? Book an appointment for another day. I'm busy," the former King of Hell quipped. He made haste in closing the back doors of the truck and getting to the front.

 _ **Upstairs – Some ten minutes earlier**_

"Agh." Zara landed with a grunt. Blood dripped from her mouth, leaving a strong iron taste. Through blurry eyes, she saw the purple figure approach her. With another swing of the arms, Esther hurled her against another wall. This time, Zara's head throbbed harder than ever, feeling like a pulsating alarm. Struggling to keep her eyes open though she was, she paid attention just in time to defensively cross her forearms in front of her head and torso. Energy burst from her core to create a magical shield. And in turn, Esther's attack pummelled her albeit sparingly inflicting damage. When an opening presented itself, Zara wasted no time in launching a counter-attack of her own. Propelling her palm forward, she fired the strongest spurt of archangel magic that she could summon in her state of pain.

Esther fell back ceremoniously. Zara grabbed the angel blade she'd dropped before and staggered towards the witch. With that steel look in her eyes and unwavering grip on the blade, only one outcome seemed obvious. Not to mention the fact that somehow, one of the suit-and-tie demons managed to find her in this relatively isolated upper floor. He'd caught her with one of her sharp killer glares when he arrived on scene, with Esther cowering away from her on the ground.

"Zara," the demon greeted. A snake-like smile stretched his lips. "It's good to see you again."

"What are you doing here?" she asked tonelessly. In the single moment that she took her eyes off Esther, the witch raised a palm. Instinctively, the demon twitched to telekinetically squeeze her trachea. Esther gasped, back arching and hands scratching against her neck to protest the assault.

"Helping you, it seems," he answered casually, stepping to stand next to her. They both simply stared at the witch's twitching form for a second. "Abaddon's downstairs. She sent me to get you."

"What part of 'I'm undercover' don't you people understand? It means no contact. Zilch. Nada. We're supposed to be sworn enemies," Zara stiffly grumbled.

"M'lady, you'll excuse the demon-folk for getting too attached to you. They haven't been this excited to welcome a human into their ranks since Cain. And your plan to use the Winchesters like the mindless vermin they are has spread nothing but joy," he reasoned.

"Well, you're only jeopardising the plan by coming anywhere near me. I didn't relay this location to you people just so that the boys could find out about it," Zara frowned. "So if you'll kindly convey my message to Abaddon, I have a situation to tend to."

They both stood in silence again. Esther was thrashing about less, but her mouth was still agape in a struggle for breath. Zara and the demon both tilted their head in unison. "They really don't die easy, do they?" the demon pondered. "You'll leave this to me. Abaddon wants to see you _now_ and it is non-negotiable." Before Zara could protest, he continued, "If you disobey her, Lucifer will hear about it. You might be his favourite, but you are still answerable to him like the rest of us. I'd advise you to think carefully."

Zara let out a slow, long exhale through her nostrils. It was times like these that really grinded her gears. There was too much going on and too much to deal with. Right now, however, it was those round, green irises that seized her thoughts. Normally, it wouldn't mean anything. It was an easy decision to make. But there was a lot weighing on her. Among those being the constant fight between the thought of Jack and the memories of Hell. That snapped her back to the present. Zara's weight shifted in lightning speed and she twisted her torso to plunge the angel blade straight into the demon's chest.

The light of death burnt under his skin. His last moments were spent with a visible shock painted on his face. With a groan of agony, he fell to the ground, dead. Esther coughed, immediately rolling onto her stomach from sheer relief. Zara knelt down to Esther's level.

"This doesn't change anything," Esther hissed as she grabbed Zara by the throat with one hand and knocked the angel blade away with the other.

"I don't expect it to," Zara said before the crushing pressure got to her. Their eye contact was diamond-solid for a good moment. A few thoughtful breaths passed. Esther let go, eyes melting with a break in her coldness.

"Make it look like you got past me," Esther muttered. Again, they stared at each other in silence. The air between them was ambiguous at best, undecided between the warm bonds of history and the scalding divisions of enmity. Zara finally decided to clock her in the right cheek. Then again at the temple. And again with a knee to the gut. The witch took it all wordlessly and succumbed to gravity.

"If you'd stayed, we could've been friends," Zara lamented, fighting hypothetical tears before they turned real. "You'd have become something greater."

"The more you talk, the more idiotic you sound," Esther spat out through a bloody lip.

"You're the one who's back with Crowley," Zara retorted. "The man who left you to suffer to save his own ass. You could do so much better."

"You're one to talk, Zara," Esther narrowed her eyes.

"Lucifer made me into something I never thought I'd become. He made me strong. What did Crowley do but drain the life out of you?" she acrimoniously put forth. "We could have taken Crowley together. But you're too busy sucking him off."

Esther huffed, somehow managing to smile through a bloody lip. "Don't you see? We're both the same. Deep inside, you know it's true." Just then, a loud explosion sounded. "You better get going. Or else I'm gonna have to fight back."

Zara paused for a moment longer because storming off past the witch. The fighting grew louder as she made her way to the lower floors. A couple of Crowley's men blocked her path. With no hesitation at all, she sprinted towards them. When the opportune moment came, she leapt onto the wall and launched herself off to grapple onto the back of a demon. Caught by surprise, the demon yelled a curse while she buried the angel blade into his neck. His friend immediately caught wind of that and charged towards her.

He firmly gripped her forearm, which was now poised in the air in a struggle to plunge the blade into him. The crooked smile on his face didn't last long before Zara kneed him in the gut. She did it again without a moment's rest to build up more momentum and force. That annoyed the demon for sure. He pulled back a fist, aimed at her cheek. That was the opening she needed. She ducked under his swinging arm and used her free hand to pull out a smaller knife from her back and bury it in his abdomen. The demon winced and let go of her other hand. The knife, borrowed from Lucifer, was effective on demons but not enough to kill one. It was more of a plaything among demons, really – for when they got bored and used each other as chopping boards. Of course, it was more for Lucifer's amusement. In no time, Zara used the demon's shock to cleanly slice his head off.

She was a blood-fuelled machine when she arrived at the control centre of the building – an office room with glass windows that overlooked the battle below. Abaddon was rummaging through some papers when she arrived. "There she is," Abaddon sighed, not bothering to look up. "The prodigy of Hell. Where's the other guy?"

"Busy with a witch," she half-lied. "We can't be seen talking. So make it quick," Zara folded her arms.

"Hm," Abaddon paid no heed to her. She remained silent, continuing to search through impossibly wordy documents for something particularly interesting. The longer she remained this way, the more Zara fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Abaddon," she called out once.

"Your boy, Dean's downstairs, by the way," the Knight said out of the blue.

"What?" Zara unfolded her arms as soon as she heard his name. "What's he doing there?"

"That's one fine young man, Zee. You'd better get me a piece of that," she continued like Zara's words didn't reach her.

"You realise that puts him in danger? There's like a hundred demons down there," Zara put a palm to her forehead, eyes wide with fear of what could happen.

"Look at you getting all sweet over a Winchester," Abaddon mumbled monotonously.

"If something happens to Dean, Sam won't rest until he finds out what's going on and we can't afford that. We can't use the Winchesters if they're onto us," she argued passionately. "We need them to stay out of the loop."

"And for what, exactly? What is your plan?" Abaddon placed her palms flat on the table as her eyes bore into Zara. "You're wasting so much time with them. Are you gonna be a hunter? Take down more of our own and tell us it's for the King's sake?"

Zara narrowed her eyes at the demon. "I have nothing to prove to you, Abaddon. Lucifer _chose_ me. The King himself. I've earned his trust and as long as he knows that I'm loyal to him, I have nothing to say to the likes of you," she spat out in a caustic tirade. "You may not like it, but the Winchesters are the only ones who can get us what we want. They have the prophet and the angel tablet. Oh, and also, they're sitting on a freakin' treasure trove of resources on the supernatural! You know, the place that _you_ tried to find and _failed_? So yeah, I'm going all in on this."

"Then we have to take it," Abaddon leaned forward, lips tightening menacingly as she made her point. "Weaken the bunker's warding and send us the signal. We'll come marching in and take everything."

"It isn't time yet," Zara retorted, heart beating faster and faster. "There's still so much they can help us with. Which means we need them _alive._ "

The sheer exasperation in Zara's eyes was starkly unmatched by the lack of emotion on Abaddon's face. She was about to take off in a hurry when Abaddon spoke again. "I told the boys to stand down. The rat will live."

Zara released the deepest sigh of relief. "Then why'd you call me here?" she asked, calmer.

"Oh I just happened to notice something while I was here. We finally have Crowley in our sights so the boys can't wait to sing praises in your name. But the funny thing is, he's holding a blade that looks an awful lot like yours," Abaddon's eyebrows crossed.

"A slight mishap. I can fix it," Zara vowed.

"A _slight_ mishap? You realise that thing can kill the boss?!" Every word grew louder than the last. "He trusted you with it!"

"I can handle it!" Zara defended. "Why don't you just leave it to me, huh? You guys focus on finding out who Crowley's sending packages to. My money's on the guy with the many heads."

"This better be worth it, Zee," Abaddon glared at her. "If you fall, we all fall."

Zara nodded. There was no argument there. "What should I do about the Helmet?" she asked.

"Nothing. Hades wants to come and take it himself," Abaddon casually stated.

"What? He can't do that. That's a stupid id-"

"We know. We've already told him that," Abaddon rolled her eyes. "But you know how he is. 'The fire must find its own spark', 'I find helmet myself'," she imitated Hades with a mockingly low voice. "But don't worry about him. We'll take care of it."

"You're sure? Because if that giant is coming, I need a heads-up. He's like a freakin' bull in a china shop. Subtlety isn't exactly in his dictionary," Zara grumbled.

"Yeah," Abaddon zoned out for a moment in contemplation. "A big guy with big words and big actions."

She sighed despondently. "You're thinking about big things a lot, huh?" Zara noticed, with a cautious sense of awkwardness.

"Yeah," Abaddon sighed again. That was too many sighs in one conversation. "I won't tell the boss if you don't."

"Tell him what?" Zara puzzled. For a moment too long, they held an uncanny silence between them. Zara's eyebrows twitched, as if poised to venture a risqué question, but Abaddon remained stoic.

"Exactly. Good talk," Abaddon went back to rummaging the documents.

"D-did we- did we just do girl talk?" Zara rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"Don't count on it happening again," Abaddon winked. "Now go. Go and save your little boyfriend."

"Actually," Zara raised a finger to correct her, and then stopped herself. "Never mind. Forget it."

When she reached the container area, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of the wretched demon. _Crowley._ He stood over Dean with her blade. Determined, she signalled to some of Lucifer's demons. They nodded in understanding. With that, she moved over to take cover behind a container. Crowley shut the doors of the truck and rushed to the front.

"Not so fast," Zara sprinted towards him at an almost inhuman pace. She hurled her angel blade at him. It sliced through the air and shattered the glass of the driver's seat door, not before cutting Crowley in the upper arm. He winced sharply and scowled at her. Zara jutted her palm out to feel the magical thread. It was strong and waited her very grip. She focused, envisioning herself grabbing onto it. Just like that, the archangel blade shifted in Crowley's hand. He felt it strongly tugging against his hold on it, willing itself to fly out of his possession. Crowley had no choice but to use both hands to secure it while the blade struggled with him like a child unwilling to be taken away. Zara only intensified her pull. The blade's grip slipped out of his palm like butter and flew into her embrace. She felt whole again.

Just then, the demons took notice of the scene. Someone yelled a command and the demons seemed to be rapidly approaching. Zara saw Dean sprawled on the ground in between the demons and Crowley. As they charged towards Crowley, he hopped into the driver's seat and drove away.

"Don't let him get away!" a demon yelled. They all soon got into cars and drove after him.

It was practically a stampede. Dean lay on the ground, still as a statue, as the demons rushed past him. In the chaos, Zara ran over to him. "No. No!" he yelled as he got up to go after the truck.

"Dean, stop," Zara grabbed his arm and yanked him away.

"We can't let him get away with those hostages," he worried.

"Well we can't do anything about it. This is our only chance to get out of here," she argued in hushed tones as she got him away from the horde of demons. "They're all too distracted with him to care about us."

Dean couldn't take his eyes off the scene as he passively let Zara pull him away. It all seemed too uncanny to him. A building full of demons. They should be running towards him with guns and raining bullets on him. Then he noticed Zara. "I'd ask what happened to your face, but I think I already know the answer," he said.

"Some days you're a Kill Bill, some days you're not. I can't be perfect," she answered.

"Yeah, I hear ya," he empathised. But he still seemed lost in thought.

"Dean, the odds were against us," she stated. Through the battered state of her body and silence of the aftermath, her voice sounded a little huskier than usual. But mostly reassuring to his ears. "There wasn't much we could've done to begin with. What were you thinking, rushing in like that?"

"Crowley could be driving those people to their graves right now," he mumbled despondently. Then he just passively shook his head and looked to the heavens momentarily. "But you're right. The fact that we're both still in one piece… it just blows my mind."

Sam was impatiently tapping his feet near the back entrance. His hand was dug in his pocket, feeling the thumb drive for a sense of security. He checked his watch. It had been 25 minutes. _Anytime now._ His movements were undecided between waiting a little while more and barging in to find out what the hell was going on. _Just because they're both taking a little longer than they said they would, doesn't mean that they're in trouble, right?_ "Goddammit," he cursed under his breath and reached a hand to the door. Just then, the knob twisted and the door swung back open.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

The table was littered with an array of food items that Zara had asked for – a steaming serving of lasagne on one plate, some few types of cakes scattered about as splotches of colour on an otherwise cream-coloured tablecloth and a bowl of fruits. Zara offered a plate to Esther. The witch looked away. "You're gonna need your strength if you're gonna teach me something more useful," Zara told her. She then piled some food on it and placed it before Esther on the table. "Eat."

Esther was almost afraid to accept the gesture.

"You do as she asks," Dan growled, raising a hand to backhand her. Esther cowered just as Zara stepped between them.

"Okay, thank you, Dan," her voice cut the air sharply. "I'll call if I need any more of your assistance."

Her folded arms and glaring eyes ordered him to leave so he did. As soon as the demon left, it was like a brace had been released from their shoulders. Esther's hand slid wearily across the table to grab a grape. Zara poured her a glass of water too. "None of this makes you a good person," Esther finally said, her voice thin and tired.

"I'm not here to be a good person," Zara answered, matching her volume. "I do as Lucifer says."

"Why…?" Esther dared ask. She carefully judged Zara's response to her. Zara's eyes wandered over the table in contemplation. "Why do you do it? You know he only wants you for what you can do for him, right?"

"This… this is where I belong," Zara said after a pause. Then, as if waking up from a trance, she straightened up and spoke more firmly. "This is my destiny. Lucifer cared for me when the world threw me away. I am in his debt and I couldn't be happier to serve him."

"Right…" Doubt creased Esther's eyebrows. "Which is why you're risking angering him for this."

"I'm not taking any risks. I told them I was hungry. But you know what these demons are like. Always an excess of everything. I just can't finish all of this by myself," Zara crossed her arms. "Now eat up before our session is over and they drag you back to the dungeon."

"You try so hard to be something you're not," Esther continued. To that, Zara simply smirked and leaned back into her seat.

"You don't know anything about what I am," her eyes lit up with a malice Esther had never seen on her face before. "But enough about me. From what I hear, you used to stay in this room. Sophia's room. You were kind of a big deal here before Lucifer got back, huh?"

Esther's lips pursed. She said nothing.

"They tell me that Crowley brought you here. From like, Russia or something," Zara rotated her wrist to turn her palm upwards – a gesture that substituted for a question mark. "You… were part of some vampire mafia clan? Which is weird, because you're not a vamp. Unless you're hiding fangs in there."

A measured exhale made it through Esther's lips, but nothing more.

"You don't wanna talk about it, fine. But way I hear it, they didn't treat you too well," Zara mentioned. Esther huffed in a mirthless smirk.

"You think all this fancy food is gonna win me over? That I'm suddenly gonna open up and talk about my feelings and we're gonna be best friends? What's next? We gonna paint each other's nails? Please," she retorted with increasing sourness. "Your boss wants one thing from me and when he gets it, he's gonna kill me. So let's speed it up because I can't wait to be free of you. You think you have a say. Like the King cares about your opinion. But sorry to break it to you, sweetheart. Men always act like they care when they want something. Then, when shit hits the fan, they just chuck you to the side like trash!"

Zara almost recoiled in her seat. Admittedly, her sudden outburst was both surprising and amusing. It was fresh compared to the dearth of emotion she always saw in the demons. "Okay…" her eyebrows jumped at that. "I don't know who hurt you- wait, I think I do know. But that's not the point. News came in a while ago that those same vamps who had you are part of some of Crowley's most recent set of sales. But I guess you're not interested in a little revenge."

She picked up one of the old compendiums and began to look for the page she stopped at. "Wait," Esther blinked rapidly, unsure of where she was going with this. "Tell me more."

Lips curving up one side, Zara set the book back down. "Lucifer wants to assign me the case. Which means I get to stir shit up in the nest. If you can give me any information at all, that would be… nice. These people are elusive, I've found."

The witch twiddled her thumbs, lost in thought.

"If you're so set on dying here, what do you have to lose? Not like you care about these people anyw-"

"It was Ukraine, not Russia," she finally spoke. "Th-they're mostly Russian, but they have a base in Odessa."

That was a start. Zara nodded. "They tell me that Crowley killed the old leader. Igor… something," she said. "The one who hurt you."

"Igor Kavinsky," Esther sounded bitter when she said his name. "Betrayed by his own brother for a demon deal. Because he was just that scummy."

"So his brother is close with Crowley?" Zara probed.

"He wanted to replace the whole administration with his demons. But it was impossible," Esther's voice grew shaky as she elaborated. "The _Solntsevskaya_ have something the other _Vory_ don't. They're bonded by blood. They wouldn't give up their own family's control to outside forces. So instead, Viktor shook hands with Crowley and that was the end of it. Nothing really changed but at least Igor is dead."

"You say that they're bonded by blood… so what were _you_ doing there?" Zara leaned forward in her chair. The witch gulped and looked over to a far wall.

"Igor was… my great-great-grandfather. As in, my _biological_ great-great-grandfather," Esther explained. "I ran away before he could turn me and joined a coven. But by the time he found me again, he'd built an empire with these people he turned into vampires and called them family."

"Sounds… complicated," Zara remarked. "Tell me about the base in Odessa."

"Hm." Esther hesitated again. "You wanted information and I gave it to you. But if you think I'm gonna just sit here and rat on my family…"

Her eyes flared up in anger but her quivering lips told another story. "If you cared so much about family, why'd you leave them to come work for Crowley, huh?" Zara argued back. "You wanted out, didn't you? You wanted something better, and then Crowley came along and swept you off your feet." Something about the way she talked stirred something in Esther. Something she'd been grappling with for a while now. Confusion. Inner conflict. Up was down and black was white. "If anyone understands what it's like to run away from family for better things, it's me," Zara recounted with a confidence she used to be afraid to have. "I hated my folks and nothing felt better than to be free of them. I get it. You could have it all again, you know. The high life," she vaguely gestured towards her surroundings. "Basic human respect, among other things. If you help me, Lucifer would appreciate it. I could put in a good word with him. You wouldn't have to be a prisoner anymore."

As much as she protested it, something lit up inside Esther again. It was just a small glimmer and it's very existence took her by surprise. But sometimes the shadows win. "Is that what you really think would happen? Then you're as naïve as the demons say," Esther narrowed her eyes.

"They say that about me?" Zara tilted her head.

"They think it's cute," Esther cringed a little. "But here's a reality check for ya. The moment they think you step outta line, it's over for you. All this praise, all this respect – it'll go _poof_."

"You have it wrong," Zara rebutted. "Lucifer wouldn't hurt me. He needs me. Vessel of the queen, remember?" Before Esther could rub in her cynicism, she continued immediately, "Just… leave it to me, kay? Now talk. Help me so that Lucifer-"

"I'm not doing this for him," Esther scowled. "I'll do it so you can see how much of a fool you are."

"That's good enough for me," Zara flashed her a smile and a playful raise of the eyebrow. Her whole demeanour surrounding the situation was nothing short of anxiety-inducing, but that was as close to human as Esther got to see from anyone. It certainly made their lessons together easier.

 _ **Several weeks (in Hell time) later,**_

"You… wanna go solo in Odessa?" Lucifer's eyebrows pinched in doubt. "Most people _crawl_ before they walk, you know. Except me. I was a superstar as a baby. Went straight to flapping my wings and sprinting," he broke into a smug grin, chin lifted as he reminisced. "True story, ask Sophie."

"How could she possibly know? She wasn't there when you were created," Zara questioned with a matching levity. When Lucifer suspected her with a head tilt, she stammered, "Or… so I must assume…"

"She told you the whole story, huh?" he guessed monotonously. "What are you, her diary?"

"Maybe I'm just such a good listener," Zara shrugged. "But no. All I saw was images swirling around my head. I don't think I could remember 14 billion years of history. I couldn't even remember the difference between an allegory and an analogy in high school."

"Well, it's a good thing that you don't need literary skills to stab people. How's your Ukrainian?" Lucifer quipped.

"Rusty. And by rusty, I mean I didn't know they spoke something other than Russian in Ukraine until now," Zara quipped. "I don't think I'll be doing much talking. There's a small-time gambling den where the _Vory_ actually house their victims before bringing them home for a nice big family dinner. That's our in."

"Hm," Lucifer zoned into a spot on the table, pensive. "And how did you stumble upon this little nugget?"

"Oh, uh," she stuttered. "The…Internet. I just searched really long and hard."

She maintained eye contact and nodded continuously, like it would boost her credibility. " _The Internet._ So you can find anything on it? How does it work?" he asked in turn.

"I… I don't know! You don't need to know how it works. You just- you just use it," she shrugged in response to his positively befuddled expression.

"One day you're gonna have to explain it to me," he ordered.

"Alright, Grandpa," Zara's smile was a thin, playful curve. "So, Odessa."

"You can go," Lucifer conceded.

 _ **Much, much later…**_

"What in Dad's name!" Lucifer exclaimed. He stood over Zara's bed, a hand poised at the back of his head. He could barely form the words over how absolutely stunned he was to see her in that moment. All he could see were the patches of dried blood on her skin and the bruises on her face. "What the hell happened?!"

"A slight mishap," Abaddon chimed in from next to him. Even she had the sense to be nervous, voice wavering if only so slightly from her own memory of what happened. But even more consequential was how she would have to tell her boss what happened without being exploded by him in a fit of rage. "The mission is actually a success," she first stated, making sure to emphasise the positivity with an appropriate tone. "But somewhere along the way, we had no choice but to engage the vamps."

"And you? What do you have to say for yourself?" Lucifer pointedly asked Zara.

Her back was propped up by a pillow. Some fractures and cuts were evident underneath the dried blood caking her skin. Yet the young woman stared dead ahead with an unshakeable grit. "I got what we needed, didn't I?"

Abaddon silently cursed. All this attitude wasn't going to ease Lucifer's anger. "Yeah? But at what cost?" Lucifer derided. "Now you're a target and they know we're involved because you just needed to be a Knight's damsel-in-distress. That's what I get for trusting you!"

"Lucifer," Zara's eyes snapped to him. "It's not as bad as you say." Her relatively unperturbed demeanour seemed to be contagious. The King found himself actually listening. "We can turn this situation around. Some of their leaders are dead. They're in a state of panic."

"And why's that?" he impatiently tapped his foot against the ground. "Why don't you help me understand this, Zara. I don't _recall_ ever giving you the order to assassinate the guys that run the Russian mafia."

Zara's chin tightened in defiance. Abaddon quickly intervened before the tensions could boil over. "Sir… it was self-defence. They would have caught her if she hadn't decided to fight back."

"Oh really? So enlighten me, Abaddon, as to why Koy and Ilik Romanovich were the ones to find her and not any of the thousands of security guys they have? Why, oh why, was she ever in direct contact with those guys?" Lucifer's caustic outrage seemed to burn the very air around them. "Why weren't you doing _your job_ and keeping her from doing something _stupid_?!"

Abaddon flinched.

"It was me," Zara's gentle voice was refreshing in comparison. "I… waited too long to call for backup. I thought I had it handled. But you know how it's like out in the field. Random things happen," she shrugged, though a sharp sting emerged from her right shoulder.

"It wasn't your call to make to take those guys' heads off," he stood imposingly over her. His voice may have been softer, but his anger still radiated through every word.

"I know, and I'm sorry," she nonchalantly said. "It's my first mission. Could you find it in yourself to forgive me? As far as mistakes go, this could actually be a good one. They're weak now. They'll be willing to latch onto any form of security you offer them."

As much as Lucifer wanted to squeeze her broken forearm, he simply seethed and held a tense silence. "Next time, you'll do _exactly_ as I say. No mishaps."

"I promise," Zara monotonously droned. After all that running around and getting beat up, a long nap was due.

"Abaddon, get a healer to look at her," he ordered. That grabbed Zara's attention again.

"A healer? But that's gonna take days to work," Zara challenged.

"Great, you'll have plenty of time to reflect on how you can stop being a bumbling dumbass," he quipped with a crisp snark. "Until then, it's only bedrest and book-reading for you."

"Oh come on," she grumbled. After Lucifer left, Abaddon remained, standing hard as a statue. Her earlier nervousness vanished which left only a deep-set frown in its place.

"I covered your ass this one time. But you're not fooling me," she hissed. "I _know_ you chose to kill those guys." Zara said nothing. Didn't even make eye contact. Abaddon leaned closer to her. "I don't know why, but you went out of your way to do it. But let me tell you something. Maybe Lucifer can forgive you. Excuse it as an amateur's mistake. But I see through you. You won't be able to make convenient 'mistakes' forever."

"I'm sorry I fucked up, Abaddon," Zara simply said, her voice even subtly introducing remorse. "I'm sorry to let you and Lucifer down. I hope that I can be as great as the both of you one day."

Abaddon backed off a bit. "You can drop the act. He's not here," she said.

"You're an inspiration to me, you know. You're everything I wanna be," Zara sniffled a little.

"You sicken me," Abaddon spat out. "I don't buy it for a second."

"I think of you every time I spill blood," she continued. "I think of it as an offering to you."

"Okay, this conversation is over," Abaddon stormed out of her room. "One day I'll get you!"

The following days were slow and boring, but Zara had healed just enough that she could move around by herself. The bruises and scars still decorated her body but at least she was feeling better. In Hell time, many moons could pass and much time could be spent training her combat and magic. There was a certain relief then, to see Esther again when Lucifer finally allowed it. A stubborn will within Zara had persisted this whole time and like a fire sprung from ashes, reignited at the sight of the witch. She just had this one-sided smile and a psychotic glint in her eye as she sat at the table. Esther, on the other hand, was intrigued and uncertain.

"What happened to your face?" the witch couldn't help but ask.

Zara smirked, taking her own time to relish the witch's curiosity. "Koy, Ilik and Oleg are dead. Couldn't get to the others on time, though," she proudly proclaimed. "Told you I could do it, didn't I?"

"You did it? You actually did it?" Esther was still in shock. She released a sharp breath.

"You weren't kidding when you said the place would be _swarming_ with vamps. It's like a beehive," Zara recalled.

"You're hurt," Esther noticed.

"Yeah, and Oleg _really_ doesn't have a problem with hitting women. Boss wasn't too happy about the mission. Or the fact that those guys are dead. But it's okay. He'll come 'round," Zara dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Just gotta wait for him to cool off, which in his case is literal. Then I can ease him into a sweet deal for you."

None of that seemed to elicit the response that Zara expected. Instead, Esther just gulped and rubbed her own forearm shakily. "You're playing with powers you don't understand, Zara," she said.

"I thought you might be a little happier to hear about it," Zara narrowed her eyes. "We finally got the guys who hurt you."

"But you disobeyed Lucifer," she pointed out.

"It's no big deal. He won't hurt me. Not really. He needs me. And what can he do now anyway? When all's said and done, he can only sway with the tide," Zara shrugged.

"You think you got it all covered. That just because he likes you he'll be okay with anything you do. But you're just wrong. It amazes me, you know. How quickly you forget that you're dealing with the Devil. The root of all evil," Esther warned.

"Okay, that's a little one-dimensional. Why don't you think of it this way? If there's anyone who can make _him_ open to new ideas, it's me. He trusts me. And I deliver," Zara held her ground. "Now let's think about how we can get you a new room, huh? Maybe you can share mine."

"Zara… I don't think that's gonna happen," Esther's voice grew more resolute. "Let's just focus on the lesson, alright?"

As much as Zara wanted to push the conversation forward, she wanted to get her own questions answered. Especially with the manuscript she'd obtained from the incident at the casino, she could finally have the key that would defuse Lucifer's vessel. Something about Esther seemed off. She was a little more fidgety than usual, tapping her fingers against the table at times. Her eyes often darted to the door and she kept rubbing her wrists and forearms. She seemed to rush through the lesson, penning down notes but not explaining them.

"You'll get it eventually," Esther stated. "We've been at this for so long now. You're smart enough to put it together."

"Why do you say it like that?" Zara puzzled.

"Uh… no reason," she shook her head. Their eyes met again. Zara always liked how bright the green of her irises were. That brief moment seemed to indulge her as Esther's pupils constricted, revealing more of her glassy eyes. A sudden 'thud' pierced the air. Esther flinched. Zara looked to the door. There didn't appear to be any movement. And then another sound erupted, like a large, heavy person impacting the ground.

"What was that?" Zara asked. Growing cautious, she grabbed an angel blade from the bedside table and inched towards the door. As she approached the threshold, a flash of black caught her eye. A quick focus revealed a familiar face in his black suit pointing a knife at her. "You? Aren't you the janitor or something?"

Roman had but a scowl on his face. He'd been waiting to do this for months. But little did he know what he was up against. He lunged at her. Zara stepped back, senses snapping into defence. Her arm swung to parry his blade and for a while all they could hear was the clanging of the blades. Zara forced herself to accelerate. It wasn't a move that could last forever for a human, but the few seconds she forced her adrenaline to perform its worth, she'd managed to knock the knife right out of his hand and knock him over. Without a moment's hesitation, she kicked the knife out the door and blocked it with her small but deadly stature.

"Roman!" Esther rushed over to him to make sure he was okay.

Zara was one shout away from getting backup. It became apparent to her exactly how capable she was. Their lives were in her hands. "He's your… escape plan?" she muttered, a little confused. The dots connected.

"More like a suicide plan now," Esther dryly remarked. All she could do was remain where she half-knelt, too hopeless to achieve anything else. Refusing to even look Zara in the eye, she said, "Do it. Make it quick."

The tip of Zara's blade was ready. She imagined herself pouncing on Roman and driving it into his chest. She could call for backup and the guards would take Esther away. As Esther awaited her sentence, a nasty scar peeked out from the neck of her dress. Zara had no way of knowing what exactly Esther went through, but that length of healing skin caught her attention for some reason. Images flashed in her head. Memories of her mom beating her surfaced but she was numb to that. Memories of Sam in the basement too – and damn, that was a horrible ordeal in itself. Again, she didn't feel anything. Then she remembered the red light. The experiments. The blood.

Zara dropped the blade. Esther looked up. "Make it look like you got past me," she mumbled, eyes dead.

"What?" The witch's dark, shapely brows curved down dramatically.

"I said, make it look like you got past me," she said more firmly this time. Her eyes flickered to the angel blade, suggesting a course of action. Roman's movements were hesitant – he sat up first, then leaned on an arm and then pushed on a leg to get up. At each point, he stuttered as if anticipating her to fight him. But she didn't.

He even got to the angel blade. Though confused at first, Roman didn't hesitate to grab her by the throat and shove her to the ground. He got up on top of her and punched her a few times, even slicing her skin, before raising the blade over her chest. Zara's eyes widened, fixating on the shiny tip. "That's enough," Esther held his elbow back.

"But m'lady, killing her would be good for our cause," he said. The desire to see her blood only invigorated him. He was already halfway teased by the sight of blood pouring from her broken nose and jaw.

"Not today, Roman," Esther ordered. "Let's go."

Reluctantly, he stood up. It felt like a huge weight was taken off her chest, quite literally. If he'd been angrier, he might have even broken her ribs. Esther knelt next to Zara, who was by now in quite some pain and craving the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. But even in her passive state, looking straight into Esther's eyes through the blood on her face, she retained the same cold fierceness that Esther always saw in her. The witch stroked her cheek rather gently. "Remember what I taught you," she whispered into her ear. " _Sopor dei meida."_

Tendrils of a glowing purple colour spread rapidly across Zara's face. Her eyelids slowly succumbed to pressure, sealing themselves for rest. Zara lay a bloody, sleeping mess on the ground. The air was still and quiet.

"Goodbye, Zara."


	76. Another Chance To Take

Sophia's Chronicles

 **A/N:**

This chapter begins from a scenario set up in the previous chapter. Basically, we're looking at when Zara tried to infiltrate the Russian vampire mafia in Ukraine. I just wanted to do some world-building, because I'm hoping to use this plot device again in the future. And there is a little hint there, that something's connected to another thing already mentioned before. But after this scene is the whole conflict between Lucifer and Zara we saw at the end of the last chapter (and the thing with Esther), and the next flashback will continue after that point.

 **Chapter 76: Another Chance To Take**

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"How's your Ukrainian?"

"Rusty. And by rusty, I mean I didn't know they spoke something other than Russian in Ukraine until now," Zara quipped. "I don't think I'll be doing much talking. There's a small-time gambling den where the _Vory_ actually house their victims before bringing them home for a nice big family dinner. That's our in."

"Hm," Lucifer zoned into a spot on the table, pensive. "And how did you stumble upon this little nugget?"

"Oh, uh," she stuttered. "The…Internet. I just searched really long and hard."

She maintained eye contact and nodded continuously, like it would boost her credibility. " _The Internet._ So you can find anything on it? How does it work?" he asked in turn.

"I… I don't know! You don't need to know how it works. You just- you just use it," she shrugged in response to his positively befuddled expression.

"One day you're gonna have to explain it to me," he ordered.

"Alright, Grandpa," Zara's smile was a thin, playful curve. "So, Odessa."

"You can go," Lucifer conceded. She was relieved, tempted to release a huge sigh of relief. Her muscles were even quivering from how excited she was. Her first mission. The thought of blood spraying on her skin made her restless. And it would be all hers to relish, on her own. She wasted no time in getting to the common armoury on the lower floors, where she packed a handgun and a machete into her leather jacket, and then some more into a small backpack.

"Ready to go, partner?" a voice said behind her. Zara spun round to see none other than the flame-haired Knight herself.

"Abaddon?" Zara recognised. "Wait, did you say… 'partner'?"

"Damn straight I did," she responded with gusto.

"But I'm supposed to be doing this alone," Zara's voice wavered, softening with every word.

"You are…" Abaddon confirmed. Hands poised on hips and chin lifted, she towered over Zara like a parent. "At least in the loosest sense of the term. But the boss told me to watch over you. What did you think, we were just gonna send you all alone to a place you've never been to where our enemies may be conspiring against us as we speak? It's cute though, that you asked to do it yourself."

"It's not _cute_! I'm being serious," Zara shot back firmly.

"Oh woah, she's being serious! She's being serious, boys, did you hear that?" she called out into the doorway. A couple of demons who were walking past the door to the armoury shot them toothy grins before disappearing from view.

It was a difficult task to bite back a snide response, but Zara did anyway. Hell could feel so trapping sometimes. Abaddon knew it from the look in her eyes, how Zara unblinkingly kept her dark irises fixed on her while releasing a measured exhale. Abaddon would have been lying if she said it didn't satisfy her a little. "The _Vory_ will know something's up if they catch a demon trying to sneak onto their premises. Which is why I, a _human_ , should do this alone."

"Right, right. And who's gonna hold onto all that ammo while you're pretending to play a Turkey ham on a cold Thanksgiving morning?" Abaddon rebutted. "What was your plan? Get killed as soon as they search you? You wouldn't even have made it to their hideout."

"Hey, I had a plan, okay? I planned for this," Zara argued. "I'm not an idiot."

"Good, you can tell me all about it en route," Abaddon said as a matter-of-fact. Within no time, the both of them stood in a chilly alleyway. The sudden change startled Zara. A spark of warmth filled her to know that she was standing on the earth again, like a return to something familiar. The tangerine streetlight pierced the midnight darkness. "So where's this place?"

With the help of GPS, Zara located a shady street where there were noises of people but no one to be found in the open. "That one," she pointed.

Among closed shops was a single lit establishment. The lighting inside appeared dim. A middle-aged man stumbled out the doors in a drunken stupor, one arm around a younger woman who had obnoxiously high stiletto heels. He yelled some kind of obscenity at her and she laughed. Their gait was reminiscent of a horse that had just been shot with a tranquilizer and was struggling to stay awake. Kissing passionately, the couple staggered into an adjacent alley.

"Ugh," Zara groaned. "I guess I'm going in there."

"Wait," Abaddon stopped her. "You're sure you know what you're doing? How're you gonna get out?"

"You're here, aren't you? I'll bust a vein. Keep the line open," Zara suggested. It hadn't been long before that she'd learnt to contact demons with blood but she'd had a fair amount of practice. "As soon as I get something on Crowley, you'll know."

"You got till daybreak," Abaddon stated, much to Zara's discontent. Sounds of vigorous love-making pulsated from the aforementioned alley as echoes, though it was still a considerable distance from where the two stood. At one point, there was a distinct slap of skin contact and then the woman's lustful shriek. "All you need to do is get in and get out. Kinda like that lucky old man there."

Zara was pensive at first, but deciding that any further argument would be suspicious, surrendered all her weaponry into her backpack and handed it over to Abaddon. "Guess I won't need that now."

"Hey," Abaddon called out one more time as Zara began towards the place. Though nothing but coldness seemed to emanate from the Knight, this moment was an exception. "You were trained for this. You'll do fine."

As reassuring as it was supposed to be, a knot formed in Zara's stomach. Abaddon had a plan and she had a plan, but those two plans weren't quite the same. Those uncertainties faded to the back of her mind as she entered. Walking past round tables where men convened and played card games over beer, smokes and money, she settled at the bar counter. The bartender was a man with shortly-trimmed hair and a sketchy smile in his eyes. He sported a gold chain around his neck but a dirty rag in a hand which he used to efficiently wipe the counter top. Zara didn't even know he was talking to her until a mumble of words in a different language reached her ears. She looked up and found his grey eyes staring into hers.

"One whiskey, please," she ordered. "On the rocks."

"You're tourist?" he asked with a heavy accent dripping in his voice.

"Yes," she smiled briefly. Her darkly-lined eyes scanned her periphery. Men in tracksuits in the corner watched her quietly. She pretended not to notice. Instead, she took out her phone and pretended to scroll through it. "Damn, battery's running low. Do you have a charger here?"

"No charger, sorry," the bartender answered. She tilted her head and made a mildly exasperated face before returning her phone to her pocket. "You here alone?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed.

"No friend, no boyfriend?" he pressed, somewhat casually.

"That's a little personal," she smirked, which seemed to ease him up a bit. She leaned forward in her seat, her elbows traversing the counter eagerly. There was a girly twinkle in her eyes, one that you couldn't really suspect. "But if you really wanna know, I prefer being alone."

"You come to Odessa before?" he politely asked.

"Mm, not really," she said. "I didn't really think. I just jumped on a plane and came here."

He raised both eyebrows as he poured her a drink and served it to her with ice. "You're a brave girl," he remarked.

"But… there is something I'm interested in," she murmured mysteriously. He paused what he was doing, settling in front of her with the rag slung over his shoulder. "I heard… that this area has a little special something to it."

"Special? What do you mean?" one of his eyebrows dipped in curiosity.

"You know…" she imitated a smoking action. The bartender huffed a smile and his eyes roved over the table. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No," he shook his head though he still wore an amused grin. "We don't do that here. It's illegal."

"Really?" she leaned in closer to him, and whispered, "Then what are those people in the corner having?"

"I pretend I don't know. I don't want any trouble," he said.

"Really? Because they said that you were the one I should ask. That you'd bring me to someone named Yakiv," she narrowed her eyes.

His lips pursed. He definitely knew something. "How do you know that name?"

"Oh, just…" she shrugged. "Word of mouth. I know a guy who knows a guy who told him. Said this was _the_ place to get dope."

"Your friend's friend… he is a man with good taste," he said with a knowing look. Zara remained demure. The way she glistened, she passed off easily as a young city-bred woman with a whole life ahead of her. She was well-aware of this fact. "Meet me outside."

"Okay, I'll just pay for this drink first," she stated.

"No, no need," he dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Yakiv will take care of it."

Sure enough, Zara waited out in the cold for a while before the bartender showed up. He led her down an alley adjacent to the place. A strange feeling stirred within her. Something seemed off. Then she realised what it was. It was eerily quiet. A glance at the ground revealed a stray stiletto heel turned on its side. A couple of men in leather jackets and beanies walked by, greeting the bartender with a nod. As she watched, one of them picked up the stiletto and kept it in a bag. _I've got the right place, alright._ A prickly sense of danger climbed up her spine. But instead of sending dread through her veins, it pumped excitement instead.

"Right this way," he led her past a wired gate. There was no one there. She looked around herself, unable to help the curiosity. There was a flash of movement. A glimmer of vicious, yellow eyes. And then the hard smack of something against her head. In a second, she fell unconscious.

She awoke to the drone of an engine. The jerk of an uneven road snapped her to complete consciousness. All she saw at first was red, but when the haze in her mind cleared, it was apparent that a strong red light permeated the back of the truck. Of course, her hands were bound, and the emptiness in her pockets suggested that her belongings had been taken from her. The wallet and phone were for temporary use anyway, so retrieving them was not on the agenda. Zara's dead eyes zoned in on the other victims. There must have been a dozen other people in there with her. They were unconscious. Except for the woman with a missing stiletto heel. Smudged eyeliner ran down her face. Her lips quivered. Once her damp eyes found Zara's, she muttered a string of words. Zara couldn't understand her. Zara just stared. Realising that her words were falling on deaf ears, the woman quietened down and shifted her attention to the large man who was slumped over next to her.

Zara bathed in the red light.

When the truck stopped, there was incomprehensible muttering. The doors opened. It was still dark outside, but judging from the ambience, they were somewhere more rural. A bunch of tall, pale men and women in stiff black suits appeared before them. It looked like they were parked at the back entrance of a large mansion, the width of which couldn't even be seen – that's how big it was. _What is this, some kind of palace?_

" _(Get moving! All of you),_ " one of them said. Those of the victims who'd awakened obliged wordlessly, though trembling. Those who hadn't were carried out roughly and taken away immediately. Zara followed what the others were doing. The one who gave out the order roughly grabbed her jaw as soon as her feet touched the ground. " _(This one looks… foreign)."_

She passively looked at him, eyes portraying no emotion and facial muscles relaxed.

" _(Yakiv said one is a tourist),_ " a blonde lady with a youthful, round face said. " _(She came alone)."_

"( _Tourists these days are idiots)_ ," he huffed. His bloodless lips curved up on one end as he traced her healthy pink lower lip with a thumb. Zara didn't so much as twitch. " _(I like this one. Can we keep her?)"_

He chuckled to himself while his friend shook her head in boredom. _"(Only the All-Father decides who becomes our kin),"_ she answered him, as if it needed saying.

" _(I know, Vicky. You don't understand a joke?)"_ he rolled his eyes. _"(You know what would be funny? What if we let Isayev have this one all to himself?)"_

" _(Isayev is a spoilt little brat. Always makes demands of his food. It always_ has _to be a 'bad person' or else he cries about it),"_ Vicky grumbled while the other victims were led into the building. _"(Does he think he's so much better than all of us because he has a conscience? Arrogant rat.)"_

" _(Don't you think it'll be so funny if we told him that this girl was some kind of spy or something?)"_ the man giggled. His eyes widened as he continued, " _(What if we told him that she's some kind of serial killer? Like a doll sent from Hell),"_ this time Vicky couldn't help but laugh along with him. _"(Then, when he rips her apart and drinks all of her, we'll tell him, 'Oh no, Isa, why did you kill this innocent girl? She came here all alone and now her family must be in some other land wondering where their little girl went!')"_

" _(He'll kill_ you _first),"_ Vicky responded amidst bead-like giggles.

" _(Leave him alone),"_ another vampire interjected. " _(He's just… confused. It's a phase. Aren't most of us like that when we're young?)"_

"( _He's been having that phase for the last 200 years),"_ the first vampire retorted snidely. _"(And now he hunts his victims on the internet instead of the streets. I feel bad for Old Zhirov now. He made a son who would rather be a hacker than a vampire.)"_

Zara had no idea what they were saying. Her hyper-aware senses tagged a location on every person she could see. The radius of sight that her angel vision allowed was limited, but even within that circle, she pegged no less than about 70 vamps. The mansion was big – it must have housed thousands of them. But the more challenging task was identifying them. She had a few names. _Koy, Ilik, Oleg_ and many more _._ Esther mentioned them without pause. She told her what each of them were like. How they… made her do things she didn't want to do. Esther's place was to be a servant, just like them. Her magical powers were theirs to use, even if she had spent so much of her own efforts growing them. Esther had mentioned that these were the top guys – they'd also have the information that Zara was looking for.

Nothing really stood out when Zara was being hauled through the hallways. If anything, it looked perfectly ordinary. As ordinary as a palace-like mansion could be. The tapestries were majestic, lining every inch where feet could tread. The rooms were all brightly lit by exquisite chandeliers and there was only the sound of joyous conversations in the background. Clearly the upkeep of the place was quite costly, but it seemed to house an uncountable number of vampires who all looked suave and professional and could form a giant company of their own. In essence, that _was_ what this was. A family-run mafia that controlled affairs in parts of Europe. It was interesting to Zara how it never felt like she was an actual hostage, save for the actual ropes binding her wrists. Even the other victims were in awe. Their questions were mostly ignored. Soon they were all led into a large dining room where they were urged to take a seat.

Food was served. Their hand-ties were removed. The same guy from before yelled another instruction, which she assumed to mean that any attempts to escape would be met with force. As expected, a number of them stood near the wall, armed with assault rifles. The bowl of Borscht looked tempting, but Zara couldn't muster the will to eat. It must have been, what, an hour and a half already? It was no time to eat. And it was strange too. These vamps liked their meals well-fed. The others, though still anxious about their future, obliged. When she hadn't picked up her spoon, the vamp grabbed her by the jaw again and turned her head to face him.

"Eat," he ordered in English.

"I'm not hungry," she answered, looking him as firmly in the eye as she had before. With a snarl, he bared his vampiric fangs. They were nothing like Zara had imagined. Up close, she could see them as razor-sharp thin incisors, monstrous and craving for her. But again, she was expressionless. The other hostages were frozen stiff at the sight. But not her. She was unfazed. The air was thick between them.

"Bring her up," a woman's voice said. They both turned to the doorway, where a tall, lean woman observed the debacle with the calmness of an unperturbed lake surface. The lines on her face made her seem older, but the alertness in her eyes suggested otherwise. _"(Viktor needs another one.)"_

 _Viktor._ That was the leader. _He's here?_ Before she could fully contemplate what was going on, they brought her up to a higher floor, where less people crowded the hallways. Zara had expected that they'd bring her to one of the higher-ranking ones, from what Esther advised her to do, but she hadn't thought she'd get to see the boss man himself. They sat her in a more private room, which was probably his office. It was devoid of people, save her, the guy escorting her and another, kinder-looking vampire. She knew the moment she laid eyes on him that he was something different but how, she couldn't tell. He had short, blonde curls that were the colour of a fire that wanted to be started. And his jaw was a sharp edge, contrasting the softness of his facial features and sapphire-blue eyes. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to notice him. _Is this him? He looks a little young…_

"You stay here," the escort commanded with his thick accent, wagging an authoritative finger at Zara. "Isa, keep an eye on her."

Just like that, the two were left alone. They were sat next to each other opposite the desk chair, where Viktor would presumably sit. Zara observed her surroundings quietly. There were wooden bookshelves and curious-looking items scattered all over the place. Though messy, an unknowable order controlled the arrangement. She hadn't even noticed the vampire staring at her because of all the Soviet-era paintings that hung on the wall behind him. He seemed to study her with a mild frown.

"Most people would be terrified of being someone's next meal," he said in flawless English. As much as he tried to hide it, there was a subtle undertone of his native accent. "Who are you?"

"Someone who's going to die soon, apparently," she nonchalantly answered like it didn't bother her in the least.

"Viktor keeps his… _victims_ … alive long enough to feed on them for weeks," Isa revealed, albeit with a stunned inquisitiveness. Zara took note of how he said that, like he didn't enjoy calling it that. "What're you doing here?"

"You ask me like I wanted to be kidnapped in the middle of the night and brought to some Addams Family dinner," she shrugged.

"You don't look like you _don't_ want to be here. I'm sure the others must think you're dumb, but I don't smell any fear on you. If you wanna infiltrate us without looking suspicious, you could at least try," he was quick to accuse. "You won't last one second without Viktor catching you in the act. So what are you _really_ doing here?"

"Maybe I'm just a girl looking for adventure," she shrugged, again with that eerily sharp eye contact. "Or someone who doesn't care what happens next."

"Good luck with that, then, whoever you are…" he huffed, turning away.

 _He looks like a kid sent to the principal's office,_ she thought to herself. Just then, the man of the hour arrived. Viktor was a commanding man with a built stature. He appeared contained to civilisation by his finely-tailored suit but anyone could tell that a beast waited to be unleashed underneath. He radiated a 'Do not disturb' sign. "You're here," his husky voice boomed in the room. It was only when she turned to acknowledge his words that she realised that he was talking to Isa, not her. Promptly taking his seat, he continued to address the younger vampire. "Do you know why you're here, boy? Zhirov was… troubled when he mentioned you."

Isa's eyes flickered between Viktor and Zara. "B-but sir, are we going to talk about this here?" his eyes darted back to Zara. "In front of her?"

"Should we be afraid of talking over our food, Isayev?" Viktor's question sliced the air with precision. It might have been safe to say that this was his casual tone, but his straightforwardness coupled with an unrelenting brown-eyed stare and stone-cold face made it hard to tell.

"N-no, sir-"

"I hear you're having some issues with your diet too," Viktor pointed out. He leaned back into his chair, casually resting an arm on the armrest of his chair. "Is it true what they say? That you'd rather feed on rats and cattle than humans?"

"I- I…" Isa rubbed his forearm as he struggled to form the words. "I d-don't do that anymore. I p-prefer to hunt my own prey n-now."

"But you still don't eat what we provide," Viktor scratched his dark beard with a finger. "Your father is worried, you know? He thinks you're straying." Isa simply looked down wordlessly. "And he's not the only one."

A tense silence passed between them. "I just have a preference," he muttered, uncertain of himself. "Sir."

"Hm," Viktor nodded. Both his eyebrows jumped as he contemplated that. "Zhirov _is_ a traditional man. He gets scared of anything different from him. The world won't end if one of us decides to go 'vegan'."

Just like that, the old man erupted in a throaty laughter. Isa's shoulders relaxed as he dared to release a chuckle.

"You're a real man for choosing what you want, Isa. I mean, look at me. I don't just take anyone. I like them young and quiet, like this one here," he gestured to Zara. "And look at her! I never had to tell her to shut up even once. That's hard to find." Glaring straight at her, he took a deep breath and released it. "You got to love the smell of a young, fertile woman. Oh wait, you prefer different, right?"

Isa shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes reluctant to meet his superior.

"Zhirov also seemed to take issue with that. But what can you do, he's an old fart who still thinks he's fighting the Byzantines in Constantinople." Viktor's head swayed back as he stared at the ceiling in contemplation. "You're a young boy. You still have the vigour of youth coursing through you. It's different, you know? To be young in flesh and to be young in mind. Some of us age in the head and it makes us slow to adapt," he tapped two fingers against his temple as he leaned forward to address the boy. "Igor was an old man at heart. When people ask me about him, I tell them, 'Poor guy died of old age'. He was stiff as a doornail when it came to important things. And then it all finally got to him."

"B-but sir, if you don't mind me asking… what happened to him?" Isa ventured a question. Zara took note of that. "They didn't tell us much."

Viktor's eyes despondently roved over the table. He released a deep sigh, as if on cue. "They assassinated him. The Chinese. Without mercy," he paused to take another deep breath, like it pained him to do so. Zara suppressed the urge to burst into laughter at his act. She knew, much better than Isa, that Viktor was complicit in Igor's death. "And now I have to carry the burden of my dear brother's legacy on my shoulders. I swore then that I would exact revenge and do him proud."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like," Isa expressed sympathy. He shook his head, lost in thought. "We were all shocked to hear the news. It was so… sudden."

Viktor studied the boy from where he sat. A cursory assessment was done with the sweep of his eyes. "You mustn't be sad, boy. The young heart may feel too much. You must be strong. That's what Igor would have wanted. He thought of all of you as his own children. And now you are mine," his reassurance was firm, like something you'd hear from a brick. It was as much emotion as the old leader could summon. "But enough of that. That's not why I've called you here today. Zhirov tells me you've been spending… a lot of time on your digital toys. He suspects… your loyalty."

The young man's eyes shot up to meet his superior's. "He…" A dumbfounded huff. "Father said that?"

Isa shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen…" Viktor beckoned with a sturdy softness that only he was capable of. "I'm not saying I doubt you, but from what he tells me, it does raise some questions. He caught you communicating with some unknown individual about missions assigned to _you_."

"I- I can explain," Isa rushed to defend. "I- I got some help. This guy I'm working with, he- he's really good. He doesn't leave a trace. I just tell him w-what to do and he does it. He gives me- he gives us no trouble."

"Really? And what do you give this man in return?" Viktor questioned, folded arms sceptical.

"Just some Botcoin. He's in it for the money," Isa struggled to convey his rationale with animated hand gestures. "I swear, that's all he wants. He doesn't question me, I don't question him. We have a mutually beneficial relationship."

"We don't make outsiders do our dirty work, Isa." The old man was clear on that.

"B-but sir, we're an efficient team. I- I- I hack whatever place he needs to go and he does the job w-without getting spotted by cameras or anything," Isa's shoulders practically shook as he quickened the explanation. "He doesn't leave any physical evidence either. That way no one can trace the job to us."

"No camera footage?" Viktor picked up on that in particular.

"None at all," Isa shook his head convincingly.

"So you have _no clue_ who this person is?" Now the viciousness was beginning to surface, in both Viktor's tone and voice.

"Uh…" Isa gulped. "N-no, sir."

"Or where he's from?"

"It- it's proven difficult to pinpoint his location…"

"And yet you trust this man," Viktor's words bored the air like a club.

"He speaks Russian fluently, like a native-"

"Do you see the problem, Isa? We can't reveal our activities to outsiders." Viktor had stopped listening to the boy.

"I swear, I don't tell him any more than he needs to know," Isa sped through the sentence.

"We _don't_ tell _anyone_ anything unless we're doing business with them. Your man is just a mercenary-for-hire. We aren't in need of those," Viktor authoritatively stated with an unyielding percussion in his voice. "And more importantly, you don't get to make these decisions without consulting your elders." In the time he allowed the boy to think, Zara found little use for her hands other than to be crossed on her lap. Any movement would have been awkward but her lack of movement wasn't any better. Now she knew what it was like to be a demon watching Lucifer berate his subjects. "You're a good kid, Isayev. But as the All-Father, it is up to me to protect all of us. I want you to turn in all your computers and other tools."

"What?" Isa panted heavily. "B-but sir, y-you can't! I need them…" he cast a brief side-eye to Zara. "…for our other affairs."

"I'll admit, you're clearly talented with all these machinery. But until we can be sure of your loyalty again, we can't take any chances," Viktor declared, almost uncaringly. "Surrender your phones as well."

"I assure you, this is unnecessary," Isa tried. "I'll stop using the merc, I promise. Please. My work can help us in many ways."

"I'm not banning you from ever putting your skills to use," Viktor clarified. "This is just… a 'time-out', as they call it. I believe in your abilities. I just want you to remember who you are and what you do."

Some resistance seemed to grip Isa's jaw. "Yes, sir," he reluctantly conceded.

"But… I do see another option," Viktor admired a small bear statuette on his desk. It showed the bear viciously pouncing, claws and teeth showing, in a striking pose. "If you're convinced this merc is so good, I want you to acquire any footage of him doing the job."

"You'll let me hire him again?" Isa puzzled.

"I'm… curious. No trace, you said? If you're up for it, do it once more. I want to see this man in action," Viktor mentioned the idea as lightly as a paper floating on the evening breeze. "He'll either be a good addition to the forces or the perfect blackmail puppet."

Something about that disturbed the younger man's demeanour. His gaze was caught in an invisible wormhole of thoughts. "I- I don't know…"

"Are you now protective of this person? Someone that you don't know?" Viktor pressed.

"N- no. I just thought… it would be bad if he found out. Shouldn't there be an honour in our relationship?" Isa consulted the elder.

Viktor huffed, lips curving up on one end. "Honour is for our business partners. Not for a dog on a leash," he said. Isa put a hand to his neck subconsciously. "Still not up for it?"

The air slowly faded to an ambient static until the night breeze rustled the curtains. "I'll need my equipment," Isa remarked.

"I'll allow it, under supervision," Viktor agreed. His smile was just another line on his aged face, underneath the thick but neatly-kept dark beard. "You're a reasonable kid. Zhirov will be pleased to hear it. Now go. You look absolutely parched, my boy. Go downstairs and feast with your brothers."

Nodding a forced assent, Isa took his leave. Now it was only Zara and the vampire leader. She watched the door come to a close and when she looked back, he stood over her.

"It's your lucky night," he muttered to her, loosening his tie. "I'm not hungry anymore."

 _It's your lucky night. I might not kill you after all,_ Zara thought. She was where she needed to be. Her plan would begin.

* * *

 _ **Motel Room, Jefferson City, Missouri – 23 September 2012, 7.48pm**_

"After almost being run over by a demon stampede, I'll never take you for granted ever again," Dean achingly vowed. He immediately stuffed his mouth with a pepperoni pizza slice, audibly enjoying its fluffy and cheesy base.

"I'm sure it loves you too," Zara's lips thinned as she watched him devour the slice with the elegance of the Cookie Monster.

"Holy shit, you guys. There was a battle and I missed it? Dammit," Jack cursed. Despite the weariness the team faced from the traumatic scene they'd just witnessed, Jack seemed genuinely disturbed that he wasn't witness to it. Meanwhile, Ser Adler stood guard on his shoulder as always with a look of perpetual alertness. "I always end up missing the fun stuff."

He crossed his arms and pouted, disgruntled. "What else did you miss?" Dean puzzled as he finished his pizza slice.

"Don't get me started man…" Jack moaned. "The Crusades, the Renaissance…" his voice took a sudden turn for a wave of angst. "… the bloody American revolution! Can you believe it? I missed _that_? And the way you guys describe it, it sounds like the greatest war the planet's ever seen!"

"Yeah, the way _we_ describe it," Sam's eyebrows jumped. The three hunters were seated at the small round table in their motel room while Jack leaned against the floral wallpaper.

"Damn straight it's the greatest war ever," Dean confirmed, patriotism boosting confidence into his posture.

"Why, exactly, did you miss it?" Zara blinked, craning her head to face Jack.

"Well, I…" Jack trailed off. His eyes darted among the three of them. They awaited an answer. There was no pressure from them, but neither a cause to be at a sudden loss of words. He remembered what he'd been doing. Not exactly angelic. "Oh, you know…" he nodded his head at them, as if that should glean something, and then shrugged. They still seemed to anticipate something. "Doing God's work doesn't always come with front row seats to the action. You know what I'm talking about. _God's_. _Work_. Top secret _stuff_."

He just smiled and nodded. "Right…" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Anyway…" Sam verbalised his rolling of the eyes. "I guess we have some good news. You're not gonna miss out on anything, because we have it all on tape. Right here." Sam held up the thumb-drive and handed it to Jack, who eyed it cautiously. "Could your 'friend' maybe run through it and get us something to work with?"

"I'll get it to him immediately," Jack confirmed. He glanced cursorily at the thumb-drive and sighed. "Hope I have enough Botcoin for this. What are you guys gonna do until then?"

Sam and Zara simultaneously looked to Dean for an answer. "Cas called. He and Kevin are working a lead in Montana. They think they might have something on our… archangel predicament," Dean announced.

Zara's pupils hardened, though her exterior mirrored that of Sam – curious and awaiting elaboration. She glanced at Jack knowingly. "What do you mean?" Jack asked, taking her cue.

"They're assembling ingredients for an exorcism spell," Dean said. His eyebrows furrowed as he recalled the details. "They need uh- bone of a sacrificial monk, blood of a… something and a whole list of things I can't remember. Point is, we're gonna join them."

"An exorcism," Jack repeated slowly. "Uhm, correct me if I'm wrong but… aren't those for demons?"

"It's an exorcism for angels," Dean explained. "Straight from the angel tablet. Might be our key to taking down Lucifer."

"Right…" Jack trailed off.

"They're sure it'll work?" Sam doubted.

"I don't know. But we can always test it out," Dean answered. "Let's focus on putting it together first. We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"I'd… love to help," Jack stuttered rather unenthusiastically.

"I sense a 'but' coming," Sam noticed.

"But… my tour doesn't end for another two months," he ruminated. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You can call me if you need anything."

"Jack, it's fine," Sam reassured him. "You've done a lot already. You don't have to stick around us all the time."

"I know, but just… seems a little contrived to worry about my fake human life when you guys are dealing with bigger things," he rubbed the back of his head.

"Dude, it's cool," Dean confirmed. He huffed under his breath, amused by the angel's concern. "Your fake human life might be the closest I've come to seeing someone actually live normally. Besides, we got a whole team of angels by now. There's Cas, there's Raziel and friends. I'd say… we got a good support system," he smirked. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

"Yeah, save heavy metal for us, won't 'cha?" Zara agreed.

The next day, the grey clouds sauntered lazily across the sky as a chilly breeze swept past the hunters. Dean checked the weapon inventory in the trunk of the car while Sam and Zara made sure they didn't leave anything behind in the motel rooms.

"So I guess this is where we part," Jack sombrely stated. He dug his hands into the pockets of his black Hollister jeans though he was comfortably clad in a shiny black racer jacket for any pretence of warmth. "For now, that is. I'm not really gone. I'll be there if you need anything."

"We know," Zara patted his arm to stop his rambling. She held his gaze with a smile that connected their eyes, but she couldn't hold it for long. "I'll miss you."

"Dammit, who's chopping onions here?" Jack cursed, eyes darting away from her. He sniffled a little and gulped, blinking rapidly.

"Jack…" Zara's voice softened. She shared a surprised look with Sam, who just shrugged and pointed at the angel with his eyes. A chamber in her heart seemed to open with her arms. And when he pulled her closer, she felt what she had always felt in his presence. The feeling of being _home._

"I'll miss you too, Danger," he managed to make a smile reach his hazel eyes. In the gloomy background, the light green flecks in his irises were most apparent, balanced only by a darker inner ring of amber. "Remember, I'm always a phone call away. Don't pray. I don't respond to prayers." Zara and Sam each had a differently-paced half-nod. This was Jack's way of making sure prayers didn't get lost in a celestial network to an angel who didn't exist, at least to his knowledge. "My uh- inbox is full. Hard to filter out anything."

"Of course," Sam conceded. He held out his palm to shake the angel's hand. "Listen, Jack, it was nice to meet you. I hope we see more of each other-"

Sam's sentence was cut short by the archangel's ambushing embrace. His palm, initially expecting to meet Jack's palm, simply detoured to pat him on the back. "The feeling's mutual, friendo," Jack muttered.

Zara couldn't help but chuckle at that. By then, Dean had finished his inspection of the trunk and shut it. Now he too was witness to the spectacle. When Jack let go of Sam and caught his gaze, he subconsciously stepped back. "I'm good thanks," he held up his arms in a mock surrender, though that didn't stop the angel.

"No, you're not," Jack defied and pulled him into a hug too.

"Oh- uh, okay," Dean realised quickly that he had no choice in the matter. Just when he thought Jack would let go, the angel turned his head and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. The hunter deflected away immediately. "What the-"

"Just kidding," Jack let go with a throaty giggle. "Relax."

"Stop it," Zara ordered with an uncontrolled grin.

"Stay away from me," Dean warned, though not entirely serious. He took a second to clear his throat and regain his composure. Ser Adler clucked from his spot on Jack's shoulder. "The lizard, on the other hand, is cool."

"I wouldn't spoil him, Dean," Jack teased.

"Stay in touch, Jack," Dean waved at him, warmth in his firm glare.

"Have a safe trip," Jack said as a final farewell. He watched them drive off out of view and before he knew it, he was alone to be Jack Pierce again. Just another punk rolling through town, living in the shadows and existing in the eyes of the people who came to see him for a dose of his rhythm.

* * *

 _ **Rufus' Cabin, Whitefish, Montana – 7 October 2012, 4.39pm**_

It was the aftermath of a light shower when they finally arrived. It had taken them a while to drive across the country, but a case had caught their attention sometime during the journey and the hunters just couldn't ignore it. When all was said and done, they made it to the cabin in time to find Castiel and Kevin poring over some books.

"What's the sitch, Kev?" Dean pulled up a chair. "Must be something big if it got you out of the bunker."

"Okay, so, think of a mouse trap, but for archangels," Kevin's eyes widened as he put forth the proposition in light speed.

"Uh-huh," Dean dipped his head in a half-nod.

"That's it, that's the plan," Kevin sped. "We get a lure for Lucifer, and when he sets foot in the trap, we exorcise him and BAM! Trap him in the cage."

Dean blinked a few times as he stared at the kid. The bags under his eyes were at a worrying size and his sclerae were a single shade short of bloodshot. Dean craned his head to Cas, and then back to Kevin.

"We're still working on the details," Cas added. "But first, we're working on perfecting the exorcism. It hasn't actually been done before, despite the obvious usefulness of such a ritual. But I suppose that it makes sense, considering that such a power could be easily abused by mortals."

"Okay…" Dean paused him. "Guess I can't complain about that. So how's the spell coming along? We need a bone of a… sacrificial monk or something, right? Whatever that means," Dean said.

"According to the specifications of the tablet, we took it to refer to a holy man who practises self-immolation. Unfortunately, self-immolation isn't that common these days," Cas elaborated.

"Yeah. _Unfortunately_ ," Dean dryly agreed.

"But, that doesn't mean that no one does it," Kevin interjected. "Just not on our side of the pond. What we're looking for is… Ghana."

"That's in Africa, right?" Dean guessed. By this time, Sam and Zara had freshened up and joined him at the table.

"No, not the country. _Ghana_ is Sanskrit. It means Destroyer," Kevin explained. "It's the name of a blade. And wait till you hear the story. It's pretty brutal."

"Just what I need to hear before dinner," Zara remarked.

"So there are these Indian monks, right? They're called _Aghori_. Kind of a creepy bunch, if you ask me. They love playing with people's corpses," his eyes widened in certain terror. "I think it's safe to say that you wouldn't want life advice from an Aghori."

"Kevin," Cas said, almost like a parent would. "The story."

"Right. So they believe that human remains can be used for rituals right?" Kevin paused rhetorically.

"Naturally," Dean answered.

"Back in the 1950s, there was, I quote, 'a very aggressive spirit' haunting a village," Kevin continued, full with air quotes.

"So, a poltergeist?" Sam guessed.

"A whole damn village! Thing must've had _some_ juice. Actually, the story behind the poltergeist is quite interesting too. But I guess it's not immediately important to the purpose of our conversation. Anyway, the villagers went to the cemetery to look for an Aghori. Because, where else would they find one? And _that_ Aghori decided that the only way to get rid of the thing was to sacrifice himself. I found an article that explained in quite some depth what the sacrifice entailed. And oh boy…" Kevin sought a pause amidst his train-like speed. "He starved himself for two days for purification and then his Aghori friends walked in circles around him while throwing rocks at his head and chanting mantras. Let me repeat that. They _threw rocks at his head_ until his skull cracked and he bled to death."

"Yikes," Sam commented with the appropriate disgusted expression.

"It doesn't end there. They smeared bits of his flesh on themselves and then crafted a blade out of his bones, which was said to be powerful enough to destroy the spirit. But the Aghoris died fighting though," Kevin abruptly ended.

"Way to end on a high note," Dean said. "Crazy monks help kill even crazier monk to ice spooky. There, saved you all those sentences you didn't need."

Sam ignored his brother and got straight to the point. "So this blade's what we need? Where is it now?"

"Ghana's been acquired by a history museum in Iowa," Cas spoke up from where he stood, arms folded cordially.

"That's great," Dean shifted his weight forward to get up.

"But it was reportedly stolen a few years back," Cas immediately added.

"Or not," Dean fell back into his seat.

"And?" Zara beckoned.

"I managed to get in touch with Raziel again and he offered to help us," Cas reported.

"Next time, lead with that," Dean sighed.

"Raz is back?" Sam said, lips inching upwards in relief.

"We are unsure if he is 'back', as you'd say, but it seems he's found what he's looking for," Cas said. His eyes despondently roved over the table.

"Which is…?" Sam gestured.

"He hasn't spoken of it. These Knowledge Keepers like their secrets. But you can try your luck by asking him yourself," the angel said. "As far as I can tell, he's been escaping death threats and investigating some leads regarding Naomi. Heaven appears to be stable, but suspicions about the new administration have risen now that Raziel is absent."

"Sounds like things are going good up there," Zara commented. "Last I heard, you guys were killing each other."

"So far, progress does seem optimistic. But until we have law again, I wouldn't count on it," Cas replied to her. "But I digress. We're here because we're looking for another ingredient for the spell – a primordial ornament."

"Sounds New Age-y, we know," Kevin stated. "I called a guy who owns a trinket shop in a town nearby and he may have one. We set up a meeting for tomorrow."

Dean nodded, impressed. "Alright. What else do we need for the spell?"

"Blood of a powerful mage. It's the last ingredient," Kevin informed them. "Or a witch. I don't think the tablet was specific about gender."

"A witch," Zara repeated. _Not like I know one who also would be happy to help with this stupid spell,_ she thought. _Shoulda killed her when I had the chance. Dammit._ Just when the thought came to her mind, so did Lucifer's face. _Maybe I am getting weak._

"Hey, we'll find one. Don't worry," Sam rubbed her upper arm. That was when she realised she must have let her discomfort slip. She recovered by placing a palm over his hand, holding it to her arm as she smiled at him. For the rest of the night, she would shed any thought of her obligation to Hell just to be a normal woman. Well, a normal hunter woman. After dinner, Sam enticed her with the offer of a documentary about ancient Egypt. So it was settled that the two would share his bed to cuddle and watch it together. Despite everything, the simplicity of the act was refreshing to Zara. Cas only watched in mild curiosity at the sight of the two of them walking into Sam's room.

"You'll get used to it eventually," Dean chimed from behind him. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer.

"I don't know much about human courtship so I am undecided as to what to make of this," Cas said in his typical monotone.

"I don't think _they_ know what to make of it either. But they like being around each other. So hey, who are we to judge?" Dean shrugged as he popped the cap open.

Cas took some time to think it over but decided it wasn't best for him to understand things beyond him. At least he could now have a conversation with just Dean – something he'd missed for a while. With Kevin finally hitting the sack at a proper hour and the other two in their room, he found comfort in a seat next to Dean's. The static of the television was ambient, just the right volume that they barely realised it existed but appreciated the homeliness it added to the cabin.

"You mentioned that a lot happened when you got side-tracked on your trip," Cas recalled, tone warm like the first rays of summer.

Dean's head was finally in a state of peace, now that things had quietened down a little. He looked to his old friend with stories to tell, not knowing where to start. "Yeah. Our Rakshasa turned out to have a partner-in-crime, we ran into Crowley twice – two times too many, that is – and we discovered that Zara's old friend is actually an angel," Dean recounted. "Also a legend on the guitar, who woulda thunk it?"

"An angel?" Castiel's eyebrows both jumped. "What's his name?"

"Jack. Well, he goes by Jack. Said his real name was Malachiah. Ring any bells?" Dean asked.

Cas mulled it over. "I know a Mala _chi_ … but no, Malachiah doesn't ring any bells," Cas said. Dean's tranquillity seemed to fade from his face, but Cas continued, "It is possible that I haven't met or heard of every angel in existence. I'll have to run it past Raziel. This Malachiah, he helped you?"

"Yeah. As far as I can tell, _Jack_ seems like a good guy. A little… questionable with the hair but I don't get any bad vibes off of him. He's just doing his own thing, you know?" Dean pondered.

"No. I don't know," Cas stared blankly at him. Dean's unamused expression suggested that he forgot who he was talking to.

"He's… you know," Dean tried to find the words. "Different. He called himself the angel of music."

"There are no angels of music," Cas answered. "Not anymore, at least."

"I don't think he meant it like that. He just meant, he likes music enough to… make it his thing or whatever. You know what, forget it. I don't know much about this stuff," Dean dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He just isn't like the other angels. He's less… robotic. No offence."

"I've come to realise now that angels aren't always, as you say, robotic. Raziel and his team have shown me what it's like to see the world in a new way. In a way that I wasn't taught before," Cas contemplated. "I'm still trying to grasp their perspective but it proves to be challenging. Like imagining a colour that doesn't exist."

"You'll get there, buddy," Dean shot him a half-smile. "But yeah, there is something about life that Raziel and his buddies seem to get. Jack kinda reminds of that guy… who's the one with the flip flops?"

"Shemsiel?"

"Yeah, him. Just less British," Dean considered with a new perspective. "They're both… I can't put my finger on it."

"Homosexual?" Cas blatantly said.

"What?" Dean muttered, blinking rapidly.

The angel's expression was frozen with a curious frown. "Shemsiel educated me in some detail on his preferences the last time we talked."

"Well… yeah, Jack doesn't really care about the junk but I don't think that's what I was thinking about. And isn't it weird that there are angels that like boning a lot? Actually- you know what, don't answer that."

"Hm…" Cas was lost in thought. "It only worries me that I've never heard of this Malachiah. I would advise caution."

"So did Zara. I mean, they have history, man. He lied to her about being an angel," Dean explained. "But they're cool now."

"What was his business with her before?"

"He was supposed to be her guardian angel. Before the apocalypse. Makes sense, right? Sam had Lucifer, literally like a Devil on his shoulder, I had Michael. And Zara had… Jack."

"I… I don't know. I'd have to ask Raziel. But if he has… lied, as you've mentioned, I'd have a fair amount of suspicion," Cas warned.

"Not to dredge up the past, Cas, but haven't we all made the same mistakes? Hell, you lied to us for a whole year about working with Crowley," Dean put forth.

"And you were rightfully upset with me about it," he rebutted, doubt creasing his eyebrows. "It just… perplexes me. I don't think I've known a guardian angel to be so… involved with a ward as to reveal himself. The normal protocol is to watch from afar. To watch from Heaven."

"Jack said something along those lines. That he wasn't supposed to be a part of her life. He said he only intervened because it was the only way to keep her from making horrible decisions. And from what he's said about her, I can see why," Dean huffed in amazement. "Girl's got some issues. I get it."

"Even then, angels don't intervene this directly," Castiel's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I'll have to meet this Jack sometime."

"You're in luck. It might happen sooner than you think. He's on the team," Dean gave his friend a reassuring smile.

* * *

 _ **Hell – 6 months ago**_

"When I find bitch, I rip her head off!" Hades ardently vowed in Lucifer's study. "Look at what she did to my little kitten!"

Though Abaddon's eyes were fully opaque, Zara swore she could see them rolling. "Stop defending her. It was her stupid idea to play nice with the witch anyway," her words were like arrows shot at Zara. "You happy, princess? You took her into your skinny arms and she stabbed you in the back. You should've been happy with that basket of puppies Lucifer wanted to get you."

 _Kittens. It was kittens._ Zara didn't bother correcting her. She knew that nothing she could say would make this right. She just pulled her black cardigan closer to her body.

"Hey, nobody said Kitten was good with brain! She's good with body," Hades defended.

"Oh my god," Zara mumbled under her breath as she pressed a finger to her temple, which was by now a canvas for a number of bruises.

"I mean, with fighting, of course," Hades further qualified, softening his voice at the sight of her exasperation. "She's good with heart too."

"Sure thing, big guy," Zara dryly answered, eyes refusing to meet his. A disheartened hesitation found its way into the momentary tremor in his clenched vertical fist.

It was barely a moment of silence before Lucifer stormed into the room. "How did it happen?" he asked as more of a demand than a question. "How?!"

Everybody flinched. "She had help," Zara meekly spoke up, still not meeting his glare. "It was Roman."

"Who?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

"Th- the guy who sweeps the halls," Zara answered. "That's what she called him."

"Never even realised we had a guy who swept the halls," Abaddon remarked.

"Exactly. A threat to us, hidden right under our noses. It's perfect," Zara sombrely said.

"Why would random demon risk life to save bitch?" Hades growled a question.

"This must be Crowley's doing," Abaddon guessed.

"No… how could it be?" Zara doubted. "He left her for dead to save his own skin. Why would he care enough to rescue her?"

"She's the most powerful ally he's ever had. And she's a liability because she knows a lot about him," Abaddon retorted. "Why's that so hard to believe?"

"It's just… why would she go back to someone who's clearly bad for her?" Zara held her ground. "You know what, forget it."

"None of you _idiots_ are saying anything that is less likely to get you all nuked right now," Lucifer muttered through a clenched jaw. That injected a sense of urgency into the room. With a rapid blink, his true irises showed and at once, evoking a collective shudder. "Let me tell you what I'm hearing right now," his voice slithered into their ears as he strolled in a circle behind their chairs, hands clasped behind his back. "Our walls were breached. Maybe one of _you_ is responsible. Maybe it's all of you."

He paused behind Abaddon's chair. Her cement-like exterior chipped away in the nervous twitch of her eyebrows.

"Abaddon," he uttered her name like the careful flipping of a page. "You were in charge of the prisons. Somehow someone managed to slip past your guards and find out exactly _when_ she'd be out of the basement."

"Sir, I-"

"Shut up," Lucifer clenched his fist. The infancy of Abaddon's sentence was aborted by the choking sound of her trachea being crushed. Though she quickly learned to keep her quiet, her throat muscles contorted in a sign that Lucifer gave her no relief. Seeing that, Zara sucked in her lips immediately.

He then sauntered over to behind Hades' chair. Though his hand was poised innocently on the spine of the chair, nothing but fatal vibes radiated from the gesture. The giant froze in a straight-backed posture, single eye unmoving from a trajectory staring straight ahead.

"And Hades," Lucifer continued. "How did a no-name demon manage to get on _my_ floor, past _your_ guys?! I thought you had everyone screened and checked against a list. Was this… Roman on the list?" His silence was punctuated with fear pulsating from the three subjects. "Because you see… if he wasn't, how'd he get up here? And if he was, how'd you not peg him with that _stupid_ eye of yours?" Hades' head craned down in shame. "And don't think I haven't noticed all those secret deliveries to your chambers. Hard to hide all those dead women after you're done with them, isn't it? Dick-for-brains."

He spat out the insult so caustically that Hades couldn't help but flinch. To see a being so powerful humiliated made Zara wish that she could just dissolve out of existence or become an inanimate object. And then it was her turn.

"Zara, oh, Zara," both of his hands gripped her chair, slender fingers firm on the wood. The hairs on the back of her neck snapped to attention. He lowered himself to pose his head right behind hers. "Where do I begin…" An arctic breath tingled her ear. It was the first sign of a freezing bubble of air forming around her. "I really thought you were ready. I really thought…" he huffed, almost amused with himself. "I really thought you were gonna… not get beat up like some kind of… cheap luncheon meat. All that effort I put into you, and this is what I get? I get why you tried to kill yourself so many times."

That left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"All of you are _incompetent_!" his voice bellowed so ferociously that Zara felt it shaking her bones. The sockets of his eyes seemed to darken. An icy tendril grew from an index finger he casually pointed upwards. Despite their differences, a shared nervous gaze among the three beings at the table put them in an alliance of necessity. A pool of lethally cold air gathered around their feet. A glimpse at the ground revealed a patch of pure ice growing from where Lucifer's feet were planted. Meanwhile Lucifer himself was a portrait of inner conflict. "I don't even know why I try anymore. I could just let this vessel burn out. I don't need a vessel to destroy all of creation. And I can start with _you three!_ "

With a swift exhale, the cold air flew up all at once, enveloping them like a thick blanket. It hit the human the worst. Zara had but a terror-stricken expression as her jaw dropped in a struggle to release quick exhales. It felt like the blood in her veins was freezing at an unprecedented rate. All feeling was lost from her body at once. The sudden dissociation did not only find a target in her. The pagan god's rough grey skin became a ghastly pale. It seemed even he, the most powerful of the three, couldn't escape the frosty wrath of the archangel king.

The searing pain of the cold inched its way up Zara's body. It was quite the miracle that her brain was still functioning enough to process thoughts. Currently, her thought was that if the freezing wave made it to her neck and then her head, she would be medically dead in no time. Despite her so-called immunity against death, nothing made the process less painful. Which was why the human embodiment of suicidal tendencies was trying her best to attract Lucifer's attention somehow. He was engaged by his own thoughts as he traced a finger across the table, his back facing her.

"There is no losing if there isn't a universe to lose in…" he muttered to himself.

She used all her breath to groan but barely a whimper made it past her lips, which endured a struggle of their own to stay shut. Her face hurt when her eyes widened in a panic but that was obviously no way to signal to him.

"She'll find it funny, maybe," he further contemplated, one hand now poised on his hip while the other rubbed the back of his head. He even chuckled a little. What about, no one could tell. "A rebellion to end all rebellions…"

 _You're fucking insane._ Zara's throat clenched almost skeletally as she struggled to even say a word. _This is hopeless._ She sucked a deep breath in through her nostrils. Her chest physically hurt to do so, not to mention that she now could not feel her nose. Or any part of her face, in fact. With as much force as she could summon, she pushed the air out of her lungs. As much as her attempt to verbalise was futile, the imminent feeling of death triggered something else within her. Nested in her solar plexus, the hawk fired up like an engine. At once, archangel magic flooded her veins. The heat wave, a thaw of relief. Breathing wasn't so difficult anymore.

"Lucifer," she called out, heaving as the life returned to her. He turned to see her. She dared to look at him with Sophia's eyes. But when she looked, she also saw him through Sophia's eyes. His true, scarlet eyes, scarlet hair and everything. It was overwhelming. The radiance hit her all at once. His stature was much larger than his human vessel would suggest. And his killer glare was deadlier than Nick's eyes could ever be. It burnt into her with a ferocity that left a mark on her bones.

"You need to die, Zara," he mumbled. "Everything ends with you."

"We haven't lost everything," she said. When she stood up, power invigorated her movement. Thin green tendrils grew and faded in cycles around her body. In spite of the pain in his heart, Lucifer kept still as she made towards him as carefully as one would towards a wild animal. The damage on his vessel was more apparent now. The burns peeking out through the collar of his shirt and the inner facet of his forearms were just the surface. She could see now what the past several weeks had done to his lungs and insides. And at the centre was a glowing ball of fire that pulsated with his anger. She put a palm to his chest unthinkingly. It seemed like a natural thing to do. Something Sophia would do. "I know what I must do."

Targeting the wounds was her primary aim, but she seemed inhibited by the ball of fire. It would deflect her efforts to direct energy to the damage. That was when she realised that the resistance was coming from him. Hesitantly, she met his gaze. He seemed to understand what she was getting at. Lucifer hated it. The stupid confidence in her actions. The motherly glint of Sophia's irises shining through Zara's. Lucifer thought he should say something, maybe as a symbolic monologue that he could pretend his lover heard. But reason got the better of him. Only Zara would hear it. And Hades and Abaddon too. Stubborn rationality curbed his impulses and he calmed down. The ball of fire waned.

The sudden release was jarring to Zara but she quickly learned to recover. The damage faded. A healthier colour returned to the vessel's skin. His insides showed a similarly quick improvement. Keeping at it was somewhat of a comfort to Zara. The whole task seemed to her like the taming of a beast. There was something of a bond there. She dared look up at him again. His expression had barely changed. He was just… silent and unmoving. Eerily statue-like. But she swore she could read some softness in there. _Best not to think too much of it._ She looked away.

The air warmed around her. He'd released his frosty grip on everyone. Colour returned to the faces of the other two. "I… I can defuse the spell," Zara declared. "I think I can do it now."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Abaddon voiced. It was the first time Zara heard her sounding so soft. The brush of death smoothens all wrinkles, she thought.

"You were ready to destroy everything you had just a second ago," Zara said, holding his passive gaze. "What's another chance to take?"

There was an emotion that perhaps, only Lucifer was capable of. Anyone could easily mistake it for nothingness. That blank look on his face said little but was the only clue. Zara could tell. She recognised a semblance of it in herself sometimes. It was that feeling she got before she did something colossally stupid. A feeling of letting go, of not caring. Like nothing would change, even if experience had proven her wrong over and over again. Repetition. Insanity.

 _ **Later,**_

The table was a mess. Papers were laid out all over it. But there was an order to this chaos, one which Zara had designed. Now that she'd put it all in the same place, the pattern was more obvious. "Of course…" she muttered as her mind tirelessly worked to put all the pieces together.

"You figure it out?" Lucifer asked, eyes curious now.

"I see something. I don't know how to put it in words," she barely lifted an eye to him. That was somewhat of a confidence-booster. When she looked up at him again, her pupils were firm. "I'm ready."

The air was warmer this time. She raised her palm towards his chest. Before she could begin, he grabbed her wrist. "If this doesn't work, I will kill you," he stated factually.

"Knock yourself out," Zara fatalistically answered.

"Esther said it's like a bomb," Abaddon interjected from her spot leaning against the wall. "If you screw up, it's gonna blow. We might _all_ die."

Hades was shocked to silence. He stood nervously behind a chair. After that revelation, he strategically shifted the spine of the chair to cover his crotch. "I have faith in Kitten," he growled rather curtly. "But just in case…"

It was probably for the best that Zara stopped listening or paying attention to her surroundings. It barely took a second for her to enter the headspace she needed, focused solely on the cage mechanism in the vessel. The locks appeared as levers – as points to be activated. Now it was a matter of which were the right points of activation. Zara picked one. Her magical thread turned it like a knob. She felt a 'click'. Lucifer watched, breath-abated. All conscious effort went into not flinching. But so far, no explosion. _Okay, good._

The next several moments were a recurring cycle of referring to her notes, thinking carefully and taking a chance with the cage mechanism. No one said anything. They just let Zara do her thing. She would verbalise her thought process, just so she could be sure of herself. What added to the already-unnerving task of picking the right points of activation was that each step had to be in an order. By the time she neared the end, Zara's body was attacked by pins and pricks from the sheer tension of the task at hand.

"The last one…" she held her breath. Her palm rotated with the 'lever'. It clicked. A cool wave washed over her. A second passed. Then, like an alarm going off, she felt something ticking. _Tick, tick, tick._ It went so fast. Her heart dropped. Clearly, Lucifer had noticed it too.

His mouth agape, his eyes widened at her, he yelled, "Do something!"

Paralysed, Zara's eyes darted between him and her notes. This wasn't a contingency she'd prepared for. The ticking got faster. _Tick, tick, tick._

"Zara!"

 _Here goes…_ "Omnis!" she yelled in a state of unbridled panic.

The last thing she saw was his piercing blue irises. A sphere of bright, burning light enveloped them.


End file.
